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.

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

turned the page, but the rest of

"What are you doing?"

made her jump. She looked up to see

holding up the journal. "Why didn't you tell us about

he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "Because there's nothing to

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

hair. "I don't know what I saw," he admitted. "And I don't know what you are. All I

your eyes. Whatever it was that brought you here... it wasn't

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