Chapter

218

The chest was old, its wooden surface worn and scratched from years of use. Elyra had stumbled upon it in Matthew's workshop while searching for extra blankets. Something about it had drawn her in, like an itch at the back of her mind.

She knelt beside it, her fingers tracing the ornate lock. The key was still in the mechanism, as if Matthew hadn't expected anyone to find it or hadn't cared if they did. She hesitated, then turned the key.

The chest creaked open, revealing a jumble of old journals, letters, and photographs. Elyra's breath caught as she pulled out the topmost journal, its pages yellowed and fragile.

The entries were written in Matthew's unmistakable handwriting, their dates going back years. One caught her eye immediately-dated the night he'd found them.

And then I saw them-two children, alone, huddled together under the trees. There was a strange glow around them, faint but undeniable, like the moonlight had decided to follow them. I should have walked away, but I couldn't. Something-someone-was watching from the shadows. I felt it. I don't

page, but the rest of the

"What are you doing?"

jump. She looked up to see Matthew standing in the doorway,

up the journal. "Why didn't

as he stepped into the room, closing the door

"That's not true. You knew we weren't normal. You knew there

"And I don't know what you are.

"Because I saw the fear in your eyes. Whatever it was

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