I shifted my awareness from the external world to my internal one. Something was tugging at what I could only describe as my soul.

  "Do you feel it? The connection you made through your contract."

  I couldn’t believe it.

  It’s real. Magic is real.

  "I do," I said, forcing the amazement out of my voice.

  "On your first try? Wow. OK… Reach out to that connection."

  “How?”

  “Will it to happen.”

  There was that word again: will.

  I reached out to the connection, and multiple souls squirmed at my touch—the sea of souls beneath our feet.

  I recoiled, snapping my eyes open and taking short, shuddering breaths.

  "What’s wrong?" Isla asked.

  "They've been there his whole time… the spirits of the dead, and just we trample all over them."

  Isla quirked an eyebrow.

  "I thought everyone knew that?"

  "It's different when you feel it. They feel… trapped."

  Isla looked down at a patch of earth in front of us.

  "That's because they are."

  “What?!”

  "If it makes you feel better, we don't think they’re aware. Scholars have tried singling out souls and asking them questions about themselves. It doesn't work. The accepted theory is that when we die, what joins the chorus is not us."

  "Chorus?"

  "Didn't you hear them? The chorus of voices, the echoes of who they were. There have been accounts of people hearing their parents and grandparents in the chorus. Parents whose children have died have heard their laughter. I'm told it's quite comforting."

  I gave her an incredulous look. She was being serious.

  Isla rested her hand on mine. I pulled it back.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "We can stop here if you want. You've gotten far on your first try."

  I paused for a moment and shook my head.

  "No, I can keep going."

  A weapon is not afraid.

  I reached out to the connection again and pushed deeper. My consciousness travelled away from the campsite, shooting across the sky to the capital and the burned-out ruins of my home.

  A cacophony of screams greeted me. An ocean of pain, anger and regret drowned out my consciousness.

  It was warm, and then it burned.

  I recoiled, clawing my way back to the surface only to slam into something big, round and gold. I was crushed under the weight of Cynthia’s ring as it pushed me deeper into the murky depths.

  # # #

  My eyes fluttered open.

  I was warm.

  Turning onto my stomach in the large bed, I caught sight of the blood spreading on the white sheets.

  My blood.

  Each breath was a labour as strength drained from my limbs.

  I crawled anyway.

  I can’t die here. I can’t…

  I grabbed fistfuls of cloth and pulled myself inch by inch to the edge of the bed.

  A sliver of metal bit into my thigh. I clenched my teeth, looking over my shoulder to glare at my tormentor.

  You don’t deserve my screams.

  The tall, broad-shouldered man was dressed in all black, with a hood and mask like Lady Sin. A curved dagger that looked like a wolf’s fang was buried in my thigh.

  “Cynthia!”

  My head turned to the doorway across the room.

  “Cindra.”

  Her emotions were plain on her face for the first time in my life. She stared, eyes wide, mouth caught in a silent scream, knuckles white as she clutched the skirts of her maid uniform. She was frozen, stuck between running away and rushing forward to fight the man in black.

  “Cindra! Cindra, run! Run now!”

  She flinched at the sound of my voice, blinking wetness from her eyes as she shook her head.

  “Cindra! Go!”

  She looked at me with a painful, longing stare and nodded, her eyes hard, as she disappeared out of the doorway.

  That’s my sister!

  I pushed my face into the bed to muffle my screams as the man twisted the dagger.

  “You’re only making it worse for her,” he said in a gravelly voice.

  He ripped the dagger free, taking heavy steps across the bed to chase after Cindra.

  “No!”

  I grabbed his ankle as he reached the edge, making him trip and faceplant on the floor.

  “Bitch!”

  He rose to his feet, loping across the room and sticking his head out the doorway.

  “Gone? Fine. I’ll get to her. For now, you get the pain. Sin’s orders.”

  He walked to the dresser next to the bed, picked up the lantern on top of it, and smashed it on the floor. A gentle breeze entered through the windows, swirling around the man and feeding the fire growing in the room.

  I crawled, ignoring the aches of pain from the wound in my thigh and the twelve other stab wounds across my body. I crawled as the man disappeared through the doorway. I crawled to my new life, which was just out of reach.

  My legs gave out first, followed a moment later by the muscles that held up my head. I stretched my hands to the edge of the bed and pulled—not enough, too weak. My head lolled on its’ side, my eyes resting on the golden ring Jacob gave me.

  That silly boy.

  My shallow breaths turned to sobs; my vision blurred as tears poured from my eyes and mixed with the blood on the sheets. The fire licked the side of the bed, singeing my fingers.

  At least one of us made it out of this mansion.

  Cindra…

  Jacob…

  Please be safe.

  # # #

  My eyes snapped open as a pillar of flame erupted from the campfire.

  Tongues of fire lapped at what was left of the upper floor, setting the wooden beams ablaze.

  "No… Not again… NOT AGAIN!"