They ran until the forest swallowed the last light behind them. Branches struck their shoulders, roots twisted beneath their feet, and the sound of snapping trees followed relentlessly from behind. Elira kept hold of the frightened girl's hand while Varrek stayed beside them, his sword ready. The girl stumbled twice, but each time Elira pulled her upright. On the third stumble, Varrek caught Elira around the waist before she fell with her. For one brief second, they stood dangerously close.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
Elira shook her head, suddenly aware of his hand still resting against her side. "No. You?"
"I'm fine."
"You always say that."
"And you always worry about me."
Elira smiled despite herself. "Maybe I have a reason."
Varrek looked into her eyes, and the noise of the forest seemed to disappear. "Maybe I like that you worry."
Before either could say anything more, Miro shouted from ahead, "If you two finish staring at each other, the monsters are still chasing us!"
Elira quickly stepped away, her cheeks warming. Varrek cleared his throat and looked toward the forest.
They finally burst from the trees and found themselves facing a small village surrounded by a wooden fence. Dozens of houses stood beneath the moonlight, but something was terribly wrong. Every door was open. Every window was dark. Not a single person appeared in the streets.
Kaelra raised her hooks. "This place is abandoned."
"No," the girl whispered.
Everyone turned toward her.
"They're inside."
A cold silence followed.
Daren slowly approached the nearest house. "How do you know?"
The girl swallowed. "Because they stopped speaking."
Seredin opened one of her record cases. "Everyone stay together."
They entered the first house cautiously. A table stood in the center, covered with plates of untouched food. A cup had fallen onto the floor, its contents dried into a dark stain. Family portraits hung crookedly on the walls, but every face had been scratched away.
Lysa stared at them in horror. "Someone erased their faces."
"Not someone," Caldra said quietly.
Elira touched one of the portraits.
The ash thread suddenly flashed.
A woman's voice whispered from the wall.
"Please remember me."
Elira stepped back.
Then another voice spoke.
"Remember my son."
Another followed.
"Remember my sister."
Soon dozens of voices filled the room.
Miro covered his ears. "Make them stop!"
Elira closed her eyes and listened carefully.
"These aren't ghosts," she said. "They're memories trapped inside the houses."
Varrek moved closer. "Can you free them?"
"I don't know."
He gently touched her hand. "Then we'll find out together."
Elira looked at their joined hands and felt a strange warmth despite the cold surrounding them.
"Together," she repeated.
A loud crash came from outside.
Everyone rushed into the street.
Black threads had begun spreading across the village fence. They crawled over rooftops and wrapped around chimneys, windows, and doors. The threads moved toward the center of the village, gathering around an enormous stone well.
The nameless girl stared at it.
"That is where they took everyone."
Elira looked at her. "Who?"
The girl pointed toward the well.
"The seamstresses."
The word made Maelin pale.
"There are more?"
The girl nodded.
"They came wearing white masks. They said they were searching for the first name."
Elira's blood turned cold.
"They know about her?"
"They know everything."
A figure appeared beside the well.
Then another.
Then another.
Six people stepped from the darkness, each wearing a white mask embroidered with black thread. Their robes carried strange patterns that seemed to move whenever Elira looked directly at them.
The leader raised one hand.
"You should never have remembered."
Elira stepped forward.
"You should never have erased them."
The figure laughed.
"You think remembering makes you powerful?"
The masked figure removed the mask.
Elira froze.
The face beneath it belonged to someone she knew.
Maelin stumbled backward.
"No…"
Varrek moved immediately beside Elira, his shoulder touching hers.
Whatever happened next, he would face it with her.
Elira stared at the woman standing before them, unable to breathe.
She was supposed to be dead.
But there she stood.
And around her wrist was the same ash thread.