Stephen glanced at Kaley and studied her curiously. Maybe he saw some of that light in her as well. “That’s how faith works though. Even just a spark is enough to shatter the darkness when it’s got a hold on you.”

I had brought him coffee the next day. And the one after that.

My eyes stayed on Kaley until we reached the Green prison—a village of wood-beam rooms with no windows. Thick chains hung over the path like a metal jungle, locks dangling where lanterns were supposed to be. The wood smelled wet, like a humid summer night, and my thoughts drifted back to my summer spent pouring over the story of Day and Night, humming that obnoxious song that was supposed to summon a Guard of Doors.

“Split them up.” The Axeman’s voice was a dagger.

Zane and I were wrestled one way, Lucas and Kaley another. My gaze broke from my sister as I was shoved into a log room with splinters sprouting from the walls, decaying wood rotting in the corners.

The ceiling was made of sparse wooden slats, revealing tiny stars peeking through the foggy blanket of troubled, gray sky. The clouds promised a pending storm.

Zane dropped to sit against the wall. “The Patrols will come,” he said. “They’ll figure out a way to escape the Dungeon of Souls, and they’ll come for us.”

“You didn’t see what I saw.” I sank down beside my Patrolman, my coat puffing around my face.

“Don’t give up yet, Helen.”

Without warning, a spoon flung over the wall of our cell and landed in the snow at Zane’s feet. But the most unexpected part was that Zane laughed. I stared at him in surprise. I watched my Patrolman blink a few times, then pick up the spoon. He held it up like he was looking at his reflection. “I’m starting to see shadows and light, Trite, and dull colours.” He stood and threw the utensil back over the wall.

“Ow!” Lucas bellowed from his own enclosure across the path.

I smiled, but it fell away when I looked back at the log cage, the slat ceiling, the prison.

“I’ve been in the dark too long,” Zane went on. “My sputtlepun scotcher is ready to muddle some Green buttons. This isn’t the end for us, Helen…” His merriment fizzled away when he found me staring off. “What?”

Instead of explaining myself, I cleared my throat and started to hum. I’d only had a sip of cider at the feast, so the tune was raw and dry, but I carried it until I felt someone watching me.

“Helen…?” Zane said again.

I opened my eyes to find a small hole in the air, a golden iris peeking through.