Prologue 3 - Adopted
Once the girl's eyes opened the world seemed to stop. Everyone in the room was entranced by her eyes, though her gaze was dulled due to just waking up from life-threatening cold, her eyes seemed to hold secrets. No one moved until Isabella decided to try and climb up onto the hospital bed to look closer. Suddenly, time seemed to resume and the world became a flurry of activity. The nurse then began to check over the girl to assess her mental abilities and psychological health. "Sweetie, can you tell me your name?" the nurse asked.
The girl opened her mouth and spoke, her voice melodious, "Azarai."
After a pause to learn her last name with nothing, the nurse asks, "Do you have a last name?"
"I don't know," she replies, "I can't remember anything before waking up on the streets."
Once the nurse finished the health check she left to file the report. Charlie decided to step out of the room to call the police station to see if anyone filed a missing person report matching her description. He walked back into the hospital room to see his daughter Isabella playing with Azarai. The two seemed to be getting along really well. It is then Isabella sees Charlie is in the room again and runs up to him to ask, "Daddy, can Azarai be my sister?"
"Oh honey, I don't think so."
"Please?" Bella begs.
Charlie gives in, "Okay, but only if no one claims her as family."
Several months go by and Charlie and Renee find out that there is absolutely no information or records about her. It is as if she came out of nowhere and suddenly started to exist. At that point, it was clear that she didn't have any family to care for her. During this time Isabella and Azarai have grown even closer and a day didn't go by that Isabella didn't ask about Azarai. Charlie and Renee even took her home once she was released from the hospital until a suitable home could be found. As time progressed Charlie and Renee came to think of Azarai as their own daughter. Then one day it became official: Azarai was adopted and became Azarai Lily Swan.
