NOVEL NEXT 
A shiver, like an icy tendril, snaked down my spine. His back, a canvas of intricate tattoos, held my gaze captive. Massive, meticulously rendered wings unfolded across his shoulders, anchored by a stark, geometric symbol at the heart of the design. The artistry continued down his arms, creating an almost ethereal, commanding presence. It wasn't the ink itself, though – not just the tattoos on this priest – that unsettled me. It was something far more unsettling, something profoundly uncanny.
Every time I pictured him, undressed, the image was identical – down to the last minuscule detail of those tattoos. It was a perfect, unchanging replication, a haunting mental echo that refused to fade. It felt…wrong, like a glitch in the fabric of reality.
He casually tossed his shirt onto a chair, turning to face me. His concern was palpable as he registered my stunned expression.
“Aphira, what’s amiss?” he asked, his voice laced with worry.
I wrestled to tear my eyes from the tattoos, finally meeting his gaze. My words felt leaden, weighed down by an unspoken dread.
“Your… your tattoos,” I whispered, the question barely audible.
He froze, a flicker of surprise, perhaps even shock, crossing his features. It was as if my observation caught him completely off guard.
“What about them?” His voice was steady, yet a subtle undercurrent of something unsaid vibrated beneath the surface.
My eyes remained locked on his. His initial worry gradually morphed into a calm, almost impassive mask. The tension in the air thickened, a palpable silence hanging between us.
I tried to speak, but my throat constricted, the words choked off. Then, a chilling thought, as sudden and sharp as a shard of ice, pierced my mind.
“We’ve been here before, haven’t we?” I blurted out.
He studied me for a long moment, his eyes narrowing fractionally. A fleeting expression – understanding? – crossed his face before he responded.
“Of course we have. We were here last week.”
I shook my head slowly, the world seeming to tilt on its axis. “No, I don’t mean that. I mean…” The words spilled out before I could censor them, sounding even to my own ears like the ramblings of a madwoman.
My heart hammered against my ribs. “I think… I think we knew each other in a past life.”
His expression softened momentarily. He opened his mouth to speak, but an overwhelming instinct propelled me forward.
“Don’t lie to me.”
He blinked, a fleeting emotion – perhaps guilt? – dancing across his features. Then, his voice, calm and resolute, cut through the tension.
“I have never lied to you, Aphira. Not then, and certainly not now.”
