The castle’s halls echoed with my father’s voice, its aged walls seemingly mocking me. I stood at the center of the old library, surrounded by a haze of dim light filtering through the stained glass windows. Dust motes danced around as if teasing me with their freedom, while I struggled with every word that came from my father.
“Focus, Faith.” His deep voice carried both authority and concern, a combination that felt impossible to meet. “The spirits are here, but you must open yourself to them. Let them in.”
I clenched my jaw, closing my eyes tightly, my hands reaching out toward the book of incantations in front of me. The words were there, etched in the back of my mind like an old memory trying to resurface, but the feeling was wrong. I could sense them, the whispers of those who lived
