Eliot stood at the door of Louise’s room, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He took three deep breaths before turning it gently. The door creaked open a c***k, and the warm, dim glow of the night-light spilled into the hallway. Louise was already fast asleep, one hand sticking out from under the covers, still clutching that white feather—he hadn’t had the heart to take it from her by force, in the end.
In the night-light, the feather emanated an uncanny luster. It was too white, white as if it had never been tainted by the mortal world.
He closed the door softly and made his way back to the living room. Scarlett was curled up in the corner of the sofa, a laptop resting on her legs. The screen displayed the public forum page of the **Pure Eye** organization. She was wearing one of his
