They reached the coordinates just before sunset.
A field. Golden and forgotten. Stretched far beyond the horizon, kissed by wind, untouched by progress. The GPS died the moment they crossed the rusted gate. Even Elias looked unsettled for once.
“This is it,” Orla said, stepping out of the car. “This is where Clara wanted us to come.”
Stanley followed her, shielding his eyes against the wind. Elias walked a few paces behind, quiet but alert. Jakob, tense and pale, hadn’t said a word since the envelope arrived.
They moved forward as if drawn — four shadows chasing the ghost of a woman who refused to stay buried.
At the center of the field stood a lone tree. Tall. Blackened by weather and time, yet still standing. Like it refused to fall until its secrets were spoken.
Orla stopped walki
