My eyes fluttered shut, and I let the cold rise up to meet me. I wanted answers. But answers were for the weak. For people who didn’t understand what they could cost.
“There you are, bug.”
My eyes snapped open.
My mother sat beside me on the bench, her figure softly illuminated in the moonlight. She looked clearer than ever, her presence almost warm. Almost alive.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she said. “I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”
“Oh,” I breathed, my fingers idly spinning the knife between them.
“I wanted you to know I’m proud of you. For finding the book, and for being so brave.”
I nodded once, hollowly. Preston—Varden, whoever he was—had helped with that.
“There’s something else you need to do now.”
I stilled, raising my eyes to meet hers. “What?”
She rose, then held out her hand to me. I reached for it without thinking, but my hand passed through hers, catching only air. My stomach turned, and she pulled back slightly, her eyes full of regret.
“I forgot,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. Then slowly, silently, I stood. I forgot too.
Without another word, she turned and walked.
I followed.
We moved through the maze as though gravity had shifted beneath our feet. I didn’t ask where we were going. Her pace was calm, her steps light, almost weightless. All I could think aboutwas him. The boy who earned my trust. His touch, his scent—all cursed with lies. I followed her through the garden, across the frozen path, the trees growing darker and closer with each step.
The forest waited.
I lifted my skirt to avoid dragging it through the snow, though it didn’t really matter anymore. Mud already clung to the hem like a shadow.
Branches stretched like fingers above us. The deeper we went, the quieter the world became. No footsteps. No birds. No music or people. Only the breath of the wind and her glow just ahead of me.
The trees parted like a curtain drawn back by unseen hands, revealing the mausoleum standing in the clearing—pale, still, as if carved from decayed bones. My breath caught when a shape slipped from the shadows, carrying the faint scent of lavender.
The ghost.
She slid between me and my mum, shaking her head with desperate urgency, her movements wild, frantic—like she was trying to break free of invisible chains.
I stumbled back, and she followed, her arms flailing, a silent scream trapped in her eyes. An unnatural sound shattered the forest’s fragile calm. It thrummed through the clearing like a curse spoken aloud after centuries of silence.
The trees shivered as if recoiling, their leaves whispering warnings. A shiver skittered up my spine as my skin prickled with cold fire.
My mum’s hand found mine, her fingers tightening. My gaze met hers with surprise, and then her face began to shift, fracturing like cracked porcelain, flickering between my mum and?—
Cecily.
My heart jolted, a sharp pang twisting inside me. I jerked away, wrenching my hand free, my breath catching in a suddenchoke. Grey eyes blinked at me from beneath snow-white lashes with panic.
Then, as if swallowed by the mist, she vanished, leaving me alone with my shock. The clearing rang with silence. Cold, unforgiving silence.
Impossible. My mum…no, Cecily?—
That’s something I wouldn’t share with anyone else in this house. Not your grandmother, not any lingering ghosts.
