Chapter 2

The Wardens dug.

Sweat and dirt.

They pulled out bones, but they were not right. Too large, too old.

Then, one Warden held up something small, glinting.

An antique silver locket.

Marcus froze.

He knew that locket. A gift to Eliza, long ago, in their youth.

It could record short voice messages. Their secret.

His breath caught.

Abigail clutched his arm, her voice tight.

"Marcus, let's leave this cursed place. There's nothing here."

Willow pointed a small, accusing finger at Abigail.

"You' re afraid," Willow said. "Afraid of the truth."

Marcus looked at Willow.

Her defiance, her eyes.

So much like Eliza.

Rage, hot and sudden, flooded him.

He lunged, striking the child across the face.

A small cry escaped her.

He saw a plain locket on a string around her neck.

A cheap trinket, mocking him, mocking Eliza's memory.

His fury peaked.

He ripped it from her neck, the string snapping.

The air crackled.

The small bluebird in Willow' s other hand seemed to pulse with a faint light.

The antique silver locket in Marcus's own hand, the one from the grave, suddenly clicked.

A soft whirring sound.

Then, a voice.

Eliza' s voice.