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Henry Graymore was dead.

My Dad was dead.

“Dead?” I cried, the words poison in my mouth.

I slid down the building, my legs buckling beneath me, splinters catching on the fabric.

He died alone. Waiting for me and wondering if I’d abandoned him. I pictured him in a hospital bed, wondering why his daughter, his Evie, was gone. All while I lay at the bottom of the Sound, screaming into the darkness.

Eddie's words pressed inside my skull: They were good people.

He spoke about us like we were just a memory. But he was right, wasn’t he? That’s all we were now—nothing more than a memory.

Just another family swept into the undertow of Seattle’s relentless hunger for profit and power.

Our deaths were just another opportunity for someone, someone like the Willows.

Was he alone? Did he suffer? Didn’t anyone tell him I’d never leave him? He knew that, right? I thought.

“Ma’am? Hey! Hello?” Eddie shuffled closer, his hand reaching out, hovering near my shoulder. “Do you want me to get help?”

I looked up at him, eyes pleading and glassy. Warmth bloomed in my chest, humming through my throat, coating my words as I spoke. “What happened? Was he alone? Tell me!” My voice came out layered, with an echoing, commanding resonance, just like when the sea-life had responded to my words with Layne.

I hadn’t meant to use the golden song on him, but it was too late now. The magic spilled out, fueled by grief and desperation.

Golden tendrils of mist-like light curled through the cold night air, coiling around his head, slipping into his ears and eyes. I searched his face, waiting for him to turn and run away, but he remained in place, staring back at me with concern.

Couldn't he see it? Isn’t he afraid?

I thought maybe I had imagined it until I saw his face and body shift.

The concern that was etched on Eddie’s face melted away, replaced with a blank and hollow stare.

But his eyes…they weren't quite right.

A golden, smoky haze clouded his vision, like a film of honey had been poured over them. Eddie’s hands dropped limply to his sides.

Oh god. What the fuck did I do? I thought, blood pounding in my ears.

Eddie’s once kind eyes stared back at me, his free will ripped from him. As he spoke, the words came out flat and spellbound, as if he were reading from a script, each word mechanical and precise.

“Mr. Graymore collapsed the night after his daughter went missing. Mrs. Thompson found him and called the ambulance. He didn’t make it…” A small tear streaked down Eddie’s cheek. “Willows came and boarded it up just a few days after.”

A sob tore through my chest, ragged and raw. The despair flooded through me, quickly replaced by a burning rage.

Eddie continued, “They already buried him. Out on Ridgecrest with his wife. Put an empty casket for his daughter right next to his.” He paused, his brow furrowing, some part of his consciousness struggling against the compulsion’s chains that wrapped around his mind. “He would’ve liked that. Always wanted to be with his girls⁠—”

His girls. Mom. Me.

I gripped my chest. I couldn’t hear anymore.

“No more! Forget we talked about this.”

Eddie gasped, stumbling backward, blinking rapidly. The golden haze that had swirled over his eyes was gone, replaced with confusion and a hint of fear that he didn't understand.

“What–” He pressed his palms into his eyes, rubbing his face hard. “What just…?” He looked up at me, his gaze holding mine, grasping at a fraying thread in his memory.

I didn’t look enough like the Evelyn he had known, but I sensed the alarm bells going off in his mind as he cocked his head, staring back at me.