The night was deathly still as Lena sat in the small motel room she and Kieran had rented just outside Ravensbrook. The third relic lay on the table, its faint glow casting long shadows across the room. Lena stared at it, the weight of everything they had faced pressing heavily on her chest. Kieran was outside, trying to repair the car they’d pushed to its limits during their escape from the asylum. The thought of his quiet determination brought a flicker of warmth to her otherwise stormy thoughts. A faint rustling drew her attention to the window. Lena’s heart skipped as she caught a glimpse of a figure standing in the moonlight. “Isaac?” she whispered, her voice trembling. The figure stepped closer, and Lena’s breath caught. It was him, or at least, the essence of him—the same boyish

