Beatrice pov
We walked down a long hallway, and he stopped at a door decorated with a small wooden sign. It had a moon and stars carved into it, and below, in childish letters: "Beatrice's Room."
"You made this," Theron said quietly. "Well, we all did. You were two months old, and we wanted you to have a sign like ours. So we made one together."
My hand trembled as I pushed open the door.
The nursery was exactly as they'd said. Unchanged, frozen in time. A white crib stood against one wall, surrounded by stuffed animals and toys. A rocking chair sat by the window, overlooking rose gardens in full bloom. Pictures covered the walls, drawings a child had made.
"These are mine?" I touched one gently, a messy drawing of stick figures.
"That's all of us," Silas pointed. "You, me, Corin, K
