Chapter 4

Three days after we laid my daughter to rest, I found myself in our cottage, carefully folding Emma's clothes into a cedar chest. Each tiny garment carried her scent—sunshine and innocence—a fragrance already fading too quickly. I held each piece to my face before placing it inside, desperate to memorize what remained of her.

Lyra whimpered within me, our shared grief a physical ache. *I miss our pup.*

The ceremonial dress lay separate from the others, its bloodstains now carefully cleaned by Elder Elara's skilled hands. The white fabric gleamed in the afternoon light, the delicate embroidery along the hem…