The first sound Ciel made was not a word.
It was a breath — sharp and hollow, like someone surfacing from beneath deep water.
Orla froze.
Stanley reached for her hand. Aster backed away from the chamber altogether.
Ciel’s fingers curled around the edge of the chair as her eyelids fluttered open.
Dark brown eyes. Almost black. Familiar and not. Stillness. A gaze that belonged to someone who had seen everything and had no desire to explain any of it.
“Where’s Clara?” she asked, her voice dry as dust.
Orla stepped forward.
“She’s gone.”
Ciel didn’t blink. “Then why are you still here?”
Upstairs, Elias was waiting by the fire, his hands ink-stained from maps and forgotten texts. He was trying to match the symbols from the staircase to places Clara had once visited.
Jakob stood at th
