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Camille closed the closet without taking her eyes off me.

I searched for words, or rather, wondered if this was really a smart idea.

“Something's bothering you.”

Camille stepped closer, searching my eyes for answers.

I pursed my lips.

Finally, she raised an eyebrow.

“Spit it out.”

“What's the deal with the Ruisangor powers?”

She laid the clothes on the elegant couch, its taut turquoise-green velvet cover and shimmering roses of the same color.

“Only Legacies have certain abilities,” she explained, sitting down. I did the same. “They specialize in one area, which can be improved and refined.”

I hung on her every word.

“How exactly?”

Camille gave me a pensive look. A long one. A shadow flitted across her face, or was it one of the clouds outside moving in front of the sun?

“I don’t want to encourage behavior that will get you and the clan into trouble, sweetheart.”

Confused, I wanted to ask her what she meant, but she was already continuing.

“Why are you even asking?” And suddenly there was a spark in her eyes. They seemed livelier. “Don't tell me your gift has already crystallized?” With a smile, she raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, this expression reminded me of someone. “Out with it!”

“I touched an object,” I quickly said, and immediately all the images came back to me. A beautiful woman with full, shoulder-length hair. “And suddenly there were these images of a woman who actually existed.”

“Existed?”

“Existed...”

“Like a ghost?”

“No... Like a silent color film. The woman was writing at her desk. In the late afternoon... I think. In the nineties. And the object I touched was her book.”

My gaze drifted into the void.

What kind of strange power was this?

“You see images,” Camille stated. “...of people. In moments gone by.” She sounded deep in thought. “Interesting.” With her eyes fixed on the black vase bearing the family’s golden crest, she nodded. “Very interesting... Theoretically, that could mean you’re accessing the essence of their darkness and connecting with it.”

Wait, what?

“You can access the archive of the space-time continuum.”

Even more confused than a few hours ago, when I had already racked my brains walking through the mansion looking for photos of people, I now looked at Camille.

In retrospect, it had been a waste of time to go through every picture I had ever had developed, because this gift had no desire to show itself to me again.

“What do you mean?” I asked, confused, because Camille's words were even more chaotic than my own thoughts.

Camille no longer seemed as calm as usual. This time, I was sure a shadow flitted across her face.