The storm broke at midnight.

It came without warning — rain crashing against the manor roof, wind howling through the Silvercrest hills. The thunder rolled like the growl of an angry god, shaking the windows in their frames. Evelyn stood on the balcony, cloak soaked, her silver hair plastered to her skin.

Lightning flashed across the sky, and for a moment she thought she saw the forest tremble — as if the earth itself still remembered what had happened in Ghostwood.

Her reflection in the ...