He put the coat and glasses away on the coffee table and made short work of removing the bandages. Then, he dipped the washcloth in warm water and wiped away the blood and grime.

... He'd been right. He hadn't wanted to believe it, but he had been right. This person, this... stranger was sporting the word 'Beloved' carved on his throat.

He was used to portents and signs, but they usually did not stare at him in the face like this. He normally had to puzzle things out more and sometimes didn't even know he'd managed to change things until after they'd come to pass.

This, though, was a bit too blatant to ignore.

He traced the letters with the tip of his finger.

"Why do you have my name engraved in your flesh?"