“Miss Sophie? This was left in the old storeroom," Martha said, placing a dust-covered box in Sophie's hands. “Found it behind the old gramophone."
Sophie opened the lid.
A cracked vinyl record rested inside, the label barely legible—*Moonhowl Lullaby.*
Her breath caught.
She remembered that night.
Rain slashing sideways. Blood on her arms. Dylan's head cradled against her chest. And the lullaby—her mother's lullaby—on her lips, barely audible over the storm.
Sophie ran her fingers over the grooves. “Maybe… he'll remember."
She spent three days sneaking out, trading what remained of her dowry—rings, silks—for restoration work at a hidden craftsman's hut.
“He'll know it wasn't her," she whispered, watching the repaired vinyl spin slowly under firelight. “He has to."
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At the sam
