the girl blinks at the grey sky. She isn’t dead, not yet. It’s enough to make me move, stumble to my knees beside her. “Lotte,” I say to her, my voice a quiver, placing my hand at her cheek. Her eyes look at me, a light green, and though I don’t know this girl, I feel like I do. She is hovering in that space between here and the veil, about to leave, but still present. The light is going out of her eyes like they did with Marie, but it’s leaving slower. She wants to stay. May you find peace, I say to her using the voice, and I’m surprised to find my magic comes back to me. She stares right
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