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We approached the front door once more. Alaric gave my arm a reassuring squeeze before stepping inside. Like before, the door was ripped off its hinges. It was odd to find this place still torn apart; somehow I had envisioned it being magically repaired in my absence.

But no. Nothing had changed. Which meant Gran’s body was still inside.

This will be hard, said Gran’s voice in my head. It will be painful. But, like all things, it will pass, Cece. You just have to get through it.

I took a deep breath, squaring my shoulders and steeling myself, then pushed the broken door and stepped inside. Immediately, the foul stench of decaying flesh stung my nostrils. I choked on a gag, covering my mouth with my hand. Oh gods, it was awful. My gaze took in the shattered glass and broken furniture before finally resting on the rotting corpse still lying on the floor. A swarm of flies surrounded what had once been my grandmother. Her skin now looked leathery and gray, her cheeks hollowed out. Her chest was still flayed open, and dark blood stains coated the floor around her.

Despair crashed through me at the sight of this powerful and beloved woman in such a horrific state. My chest caved inward as if my organs were crumbling apart. I was torn between the urge to vomit and the desire to sob uncontrollably.

“We can bury her,” Alaric said softly.

I looked up to find him standing by the open window, arms crossed as he watched me, his expression unreadable.

“While we’re here, we can give her a proper burial,” he said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you that before.”

A hard lump formed in my throat, and I nodded once. “Yes. That would be good. Thank you.” My voice was tight, and my eyes tickled with the looming threat of tears.

I didn’t want to cry. Once I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop.

Alaric drew closer to me. “If you like, I can carry her outside and start digging a grave for her.”

I frowned at him. “Now?”

He grimaced. “It’s… difficult for me to sift through the smells,” he admitted. “But if you’d feel more comfortable, we can wait and do it later.”

The awful odor filled my nose again, and I coughed. “No, it’s fine,” I said, trying to hold my breath for as long as I could muster. I nodded, gesturing to my grandmother. “Let’s do it now.”

Alaric frowned for a moment, then stepped outside. I gaped at his abrupt departure, wondering if I should follow him, when he reappeared with a long white sheet in his hands. He must have grabbed it from the clothesline. As he approached my grandmother’s body, I was touched by how gentle and delicate his movements were. He wrapped the sheet around her and gathered her in his arms as if she were a treasured object instead of a mangled corpse. I blinked rapidly to clear my eyes of the moisture that filled them. Because I knew how much Alaric detested witches, and he believed this woman had conspired to kill his king.

Yet he held her tenderly. Gingerly.

I couldn’t help it. Tears streamed down my face, and a sob burst from my lips as he carried her out the door, each step careful and measured. I covered my face with my hands as I wept, unable to contain the grief any longer.

This woman had kept secrets from me, that was for certain. I wasn’t sure if I fully accepted what had been revealed to me at the Oracle—I couldn’t wrap my head around Gran plotting to kill the Mage King—but I knew she had hidden things from me.

And yet, she’d been the only family I had. It didn’t matter what she had done; she had still belonged to me. She had been home. And I’d loved her.

A soft scraping sound filled my ears, and I realized Alaric had begun to dig. I pressed a hand to my chest, struggling to draw air. I knew I should have probably gone outside to help him. But there was only one shovel, and I likely would have just been a sobbing mess anyway.

With a sniffle, I wiped my nose and strode deeper into the house. Thanks to the open window, the air was starting to clear, and the rotten stench was no longer as potent. I frowned as I entered the hall. There were broken chunks of wood along the wall that I hadn’t noticed the last time I’d been here.

When I reached Gran’s room, I let out a gasp.

Her bed had been torn to shreds. Feathers and stuffing littered the floor. The window had been completely smashed, leaving shards of glass everywhere.

I stepped into the room, gaping at the wreckage as I tried to dodge the debris. Her room had been a mess when I’d last seen it—clothes and parchment all over the floor—but it hadn’t looked like this.

Which meant someone had come back. But why? Had it been the Rogue?

I made my way around the broken bed frame and froze.

My vials of tonic were gone.

I’d only taken a few before Alaric had brought me to the Isle. I was certain there had been more tonic here when I’d left.

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm in my chest. Not only did I have no tonic, but there was a thief out there who had taken them for some reason. If it had been the Rogue, I imagined he would have simply smashed the vials with his claws. But there wasn’t any sign of amber liquid on the floor. Not even a drop.

Which led me to believe someone human had taken them.