Chapter 1
“Be righteous in this life,
for it is not Our Lady you meet after—it is Anam,
the Keeper of Names and Reaper of Souls.
He is your judgment.”
- The Old Book
The shutters shook fiercely, rattling like teeth in a fever.
A cold draft coiled down my neck, and my skin prickled before I understood why.
Beyond the second-story window, oak branches bowed in the gusts, their brittle leaves torn free and whirled into the night. The sound wasn’t the playful rush of autumn, but a low, hollow cry that seemed to carry its own warning. My pulse matched its rhythm.
“Mavis, what’s wrong?”
Kaven’s voice was behind me, warm and familiar, but I couldn’t turn away from the glass.
“The wind is blowing from the west,” I replied, my voice quieter than I intended. “It never blows from the west.”
The hair on my nape raised, acutely aware of thewrongnessin the air.
I was taught that the Sky watched, and the Ground remembered. Each belonged to the gods. Something was amiss—and the Sky was watching us closely now.
“Mavis, the wind is just wind.” His words were flat and tired, as if we had done this song and dance more than he could count.
I put a finger to the glass, scraping at the condensation. “It isn’t. Can’t you feel it?”
The cold seeped through, making me tense.
“No, because there’s nothing to feel. You’re scaring yourself again.”
“I’m not scared. I’m concerned,” I bristled. “There’s a difference.”
“Well, I’d rather not spend my life bothered by shadows in the corner.”
“Shadows move. Maybe youshouldbe wary of them.”
I turned at last. Kaven was slouched across his bed, a battered book in hand, his rich mahogany skin catching the quick flicker of lightning through the shutters. His shadow flashed in the light, showing itself to me. It made me realize that anything could hide in the dark.
“Do you ever get the feeling,” I asked, “that you aren’t alone? That someone is only a breath away, watching?”
His brow knit. “You mean the gods?”
The skepticism was thick.
“Or something else.”
His eyes widened, a flicker of unease quickly masked with mischief. “A ghost?”
The word clung to the air. A shiver rippled through me, and I froze. Mother always said sudden chills were caused by the touch of a spirit. Of course, Father dismissed it as superstition, but the thought persisted. Maybe we weren’t as alone as we thought.
Kaven broke into a wide grin. He knew exactly where my mind had gone, and he thought it amusing.
“Relax, you’re not being haunted.”
