Page 118 of Cursebreaker

Not because Will is here, but because I still feel his presence—in the gardens that seem to thrive even in his absence, in the ivy that wraps around the lampposts, in the blooms of blue salvia, their soft petals almost silver in the moonlight.

And I know, before I even open the doors to the foyer, what I will find.

The guards, Gylda and Hugh, were the only two members of the staff who stayed behind when the rest of us made the journey to Castle Grim. I’ve often wondered what became of them after Calantha seized control of the Eerie.

Now I have my answer.

Someone pinned their bodies to the wall with kitchen knives, beneath the banner my family painted upon my return all those months ago, the red paint that reads WELCOME HOME now splattered with dried blood.

My scream echoes through the abandoned house. Liv and Sylvie peek out of my coat pocket, their dim glow illuminating the dusty room. Tears blur my vision as I look around the foyer—at the portraits of the Castor family. Of Will.

I know it was Will who did this. He wanted me to know—wanted me to see.

I can almost hear his voice, brushing against my ear. This is what will happen to your family if you don’t surrender.

Before I know it, I’m racing toward the stables, my blood drumming in my head.

I drop to my knees when I find the stalls are empty.

Will’s horse, Caligo—gone. Henry’s steed, Nutmeg, and Lady Isabelle’s unicorn, Thea—gone. All gone.

But Jack is still here. I see him everywhere I look, leaning against the walls, a rake in his hand. Whistling. Smiling. Laughing. He’s everywhere.

I’m on my feet again, but this time, I make for the conservatory. I know I should look for the Key, but I need to see the garden—need to know if I imagined Will’s tender caress, the nights we spent watching the stars.

I stumble near the banks of the pond, a few feet from Hildegarde’s Folly, and when I pick myself up, something tugs at my chest—some invisible force drawing me toward the domed structure. And then I see it.

A raven, perched atop the statue in the center of the folly.

Of course! I found the Sword in the underwater folly at Castle Grim. If the Key is here…

My heart leaps as I lurch forward, flying over the steps.

I know the raven isn’t Owen. But for a moment, it feels as if he’s with me—as if he’d sent me a sign to guide me here.

“What am I supposed to do?” I ask, wiping the tears from my face.

The raven cocks its head at me. Blinks.

I attempt to draw on my bonewielder affinity—magic that the power of the Lightbringer should give me access to—and speak with the raven in the way I saw Will and Lady Isabelle communicate with the wolves that live in the woods.

“Is the Key here somewhere?” I whisper. “Do you know how to find it?”

The raven ruffles its wings.

I groan, frustration clawing at my throat. If I could just tap into my affinity—if I could control the power somehow—this would be easier. But it’s almost as if the harder I try to grab hold of it, the less I feel the Manan around me.

Tears prick my eyes. Owen should have kept the power of the Lightbringer. It should have never come to me. He knew of his affinity as a windwalker for only a short time, and he managed to master one of the most difficult aspects of his magic. And here I am, barely able to manipulate a stream of water, much less speak with a bird.

Owen was the true heir of Hildegarde. The power ran through his veins before it ever ran through mine. If he were still here, he would know what to do.

I think back to my final moments with him, as he lay bleeding in my arms. Why did he have to die? Why did it have to be his blood that revealed the Sword to me?

My stomach dips.

I draw my dagger from the sheath at my hip. “Is it my blood?” I ask the raven as I drop to my knees. “Is that it?”

The raven squawks.