Chapter 1
Lauren York had taken a deep breath, inhaling the Parisian air, the second she had stepped off the airplane. The excitement was overpowering. She couldn’t believe that she had finally reached the city of lights. The city that she had always known would be her destiny. She had practically been in trance, ever since she had been accepted into the Sorbonne University. Lauren had to restrain herself to go to the apartment, that her parents had arranged for her, rather than instantly hit the streets and overdose on all the beauty and culture of this great city.
When she had finally gotten settled in – wanting to finally experience Paris, the whole thing had felt like an eternity – she was finally able to visit all the places that she had only before visited in her dreams. The Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the magnificence of the Paris Opera. She had loved visiting Les Deux Magots. Enjoyed sitting at the former meeting place of artists and writers like Picasso and James Joyce. But then came the day that she decided to visit Notre-Dame de Paris. Lauren York had always known that her destiny lied in Paris. She just couldn’t have imagined what that destiny would be.
As Lauren walked through the Cathedral, she cut her hand. A minor accident. She had accidently made contact with a sharp piece of metal on a candleholder. Minor cut, just a little bit of blood. She took a napkin out of her purse, to stop the bleeding. She looked around, hoping to find a nun who perhaps could give her a band aid. She didn’t even notice three drops of her blood falling to the floor. On top of a tomb. A symbol began to light up on the tomb, that’s when Lauren noticed it. Two wavy lines, each with a circle.
Lauren couldn’t explain it, but she felt drawn to it. She had to touch it. When she did, she became enveloped in a bright light. The symbol on the tomb manifested itself on her lower back. Lauren York’s destiny had always been in Paris. For she was the granddaughter of Ella Potter, a descendent of Countess Margaret Isobel Thoreaux.
Lauren York had taken a deep breath, inhaling the Parisian air, the second she had stepped off the airplane. The excitement was overpowering. She couldn’t believe that she had finally reached the city of lights. The city that she had always known would be her destiny. She had practically been in trance, ever since she had been accepted into the Sorbonne University. Lauren had to restrain herself to go to the apartment, that her parents had arranged for her, rather than instantly hit the streets and overdose on all the beauty and culture of this great city.
When she had finally gotten settled in – wanting to finally experience Paris, the whole thing had felt like an eternity – she was finally able to visit all the places that she had only before visited in her dreams. The Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the magnificence of the Paris Opera. She had loved visiting Les Deux Magots. Enjoyed sitting at the former meeting place of artists and writers like Picasso and James Joyce. But then came the day that she decided to visit Notre-Dame de Paris. Lauren York had always known that her destiny lied in Paris. She just couldn’t have imagined what that destiny would be.
As Lauren walked through the Cathedral, she cut her hand. A minor accident. She had accidently made contact with a sharp piece of metal on a candleholder. Minor cut, just a little bit of blood. She took a napkin out of her purse, to stop the bleeding. She looked around, hoping to find a nun who perhaps could give her a band aid. She didn’t even notice three drops of her blood falling to the floor. On top of a tomb. A symbol began to light up on the tomb, that’s when Lauren noticed it. Two wavy lines, each with a circle.
Lauren couldn’t explain it, but she felt drawn to it. She had to touch it. When she did, she became enveloped in a bright light. The symbol on the tomb manifested itself on her lower back. Lauren York’s destiny had always been in Paris. For she was the granddaughter of Ella Potter, a descendent of Countess Margaret Isobel Thoreaux.
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