Anastasia pov
Once again, I find myself having a prophetic dream about the future. This dream is more vivid than any other, filled with colors and emotions that feel almost real. My mother, Annabella, is present once more, her figure radiant and serene. She is pregnant, and a soft light emanates from her skin, giving her an almost celestial aura. Her flowing blonde hair dances like waves in the sea, catching the light in a spectacle of gold and silver. The room she is in is a charming nursery, decorated with delicate baby ornaments, small stuffed animals, and a music box playing a soft, familiar melody—the one she used to sing to me when I was little.