Sunday dawned lazily, with the sun streaming through the curtains in golden beams. Luara turned to the other side of the bed, trying to ignore the soft sound of birds outside, until she heard her mother's voice calling from the hallway.

“Honey, you better come downstairs. Now.”

The urgency in the woman's voice made Luara open her eyes wide. She stretched slowly, trying to understand what could be so important so early in the morning.

When she went downstairs, the smell ...