Despite Jorick's desire for oblivion, he was roused the next evening by the soft chirp of a lone cricket. He'd half expected the remaining neighbors to storm the house as he slept, burn it to the ground, leaving him as scattered ashes.

Like Velnya.

He rolled over and stared at the dirty floor. After the memories he'd seen, he couldn't bring himself to sleep in the bedroom. Not now, not ever. No square inch of this house, this land, this territory, would ever be ...