A window. His voice swarmed in my ears, near and far at once, slick with oil. That’s all she ever required. Who? The Spirit of the Wood. The hair at my spine prickled. You’ve been here before? He laughed. But there was no joy in it. It was an empty laugh, ominous—like falling down a well. Like being eaten by darkness. It stole something from me, leaving me terrified of the place— the doorless chamber—he so desperately wanted me to take him. My muscles strained, every part of my body begging to heed him—to go to the chamber. I clenched my jaw and turned away from the dark window at the lip of
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