Sidra’s hope faltered as the silence stretched on. She heard someone knock on her door. She didn’t answer it as she waited patiently for the ghost.

But Donella never came.

Soon, Graeme would call for her, and Sidra sighed. She began to gather her herbs, and that was when she saw them. The two red flowers. Orenna blossoms.

She took one in her hands and studied its small, fierce petals. The legend claimed that to eat one was to gain a spirit’s secrets.

Without hesitation, Sidra placed a flower in her mouth and swallowed.

She felt nothing at first. The flower tasted like frosted grass and a hint of remorse. But then a sigh tugged on her mouth. Once, twice. As if she were breathing in a cold enchantment.

Sidra rose. She flexed her hands, her fingertips tingling. She blinked and saw a world lined with faint traces of gold. At first, she thought she was hallucinating, until she walked out the back door and beheld her garden.

She could see the life of the plants. The faint glow of their essence. She could see the lines running deep in the soil—roots that fed into a catacomb of intricate passages. Overhead, she could see the streaks in the clouds. The routes the wind blew.

She stood in the splendor, soaking it in.

My eyes are open, she thought. I’m seeing both realms.

She was straddling the mortal world and the domain of the spirits and could see how they overlapped. Sidra began to walk. Her bare feet met the ground with a whisper. She could feel the depth of the earth every time she stepped. She was weightless, as if nothing could hold her down.

She turned and looked behind. Her feet had left no tracks in the soil or the grass.

This is how he did it, her mind raced. This is how he leaves no trace. He eats a flower and steals our girls.

Sidra’s breath caught. She returned to the hill, even though it made her shudder. Perspiration glistened on her skin as she studied the crushed heather. She could see how a spirit had wept when she fell and tumbled, its tears beading gold in the grass. She searched the area again now that her eyes were sharper, and she could see where Torin and his guards had marked the beginnings of a blood trail. It looked like the kidnapper had carried Maisie to the south, but Sidra wasn’t certain.

After a few steps, the blood dried and there was no trace of where he had gone.