Chapter 32: Archives of the dead
Elara kneels beside the skeletal remains, her trembling hands hovering over the tattered clothes still clinging to brittle bones. Her eyes dart over the details—the navy wool blazer her father wears every Sunday, the faded floral scarf wrapped around what’s left of her mother’s fragile frame. “No…” Her voice cracks. “No, no, this—this can’t be.” Damien stands a few paces behind her, silent, letting her process it all. She reaches forward with shaking fingers and gently touches the scarf. “This was hers. I gave it to her. It still smells like her perfume,” she whispers, crumbling inward. Tears spill down her cheeks, and she presses a fist to her mouth to hold in a sob. “They were here the whole time. I lived above them—above them—for months. If I had come down here sooner… if I had just
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