The ritual room Mabel led us to that night sat deeper in the compound than I had ever ventured, a space carved partly into rock beneath the main building, candles arranged in careful patterns along walls marked with symbols old enough that their edges had softened with time.
This isn't without risk, Mabel said, laying the pocket watch at the center of a chalked circle with hands that trembled slightly despite her steady voice. The rite pulls memory across a threshold most things aren't meant to cross. It can show the truth, or it can show fragments distorted by grief and fear, depending on how strong the connection is between the object and the person seeking answers.
I'll do it, I said, before either of them could suggest otherwise.
It has to be blood, Mabel said gently. Yours, specifi
