The door was unlocked.
No one remembered doing it. Not Jakob, not Elias, not Stanley.
But when Caelum walked into the house just after dusk, no alarms sounded. No locks clicked. No shadows stirred.
He was simply there.
Orla turned from the stairs and nearly ran into him.
Her breath caught in her chest.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
“I’ve never followed rules that didn’t interest me,” Caelum said, brushing frost off his coat. “And frankly, this house has never had rules. Just wounds.”
Stanley appeared behind her, jaw clenched, but Caelum lifted a hand.
“I’m not here to fight. Not yet.”
“Then why?” Orla demanded.
Caelum looked over her shoulder.
“To see the thing Clara buried and called a daughter.”
Ciel didn’t hide.
She stood in the kitchen, barefoot on the tiled floor, ho
