The air in the chamber became stagnant, and I had the distinct sense that time had ceased to function properly. Heart pounding, I inhaled, suddenly smelling the fresh, delicately sweet scent of…spring. Renewal. Life. Lilacs. Kieran stiffened, and because his hand still gripped ours, I saw tiny bumps rise along his forearm. A new, slightly musty scent filled the chamber. It was like…stale lilacs. Or fallen leaves in autumn. “Death,” Kieran murmured, a tremor coursing through his hand. He had always picked up that faint scent on her, but we’d never understood why.
