Leanne dropped the flashlight. It made no sound as it hit the floor, but she barely noticed. Throat tight, eyes burning, she reached towards Grace.

Grace’s smile widened, and tears spilt down her cheeks. She took Leanne’s hands and pulled her into a hug, her gentle fingers stroking Leanne’s hair back from her forehead. The relief was almost achingly sweet, like being reunited with a close friend. The fear and sadness vanished, and for the first time in a long while, she felt like she had found home.

“How—” She pulled back far enough to see Grace’s face. The tear tracks sparkled in the candlelight, but she was smiling. “How are you still—”

The words hung, unspoken: How are you still alive?

Grace hadn’t aged. Thirty years should have dulled her hair into grey and creased her skin with wrinkles, but she stayed as young and delicate as Leanne remembered her.

The question died on Leanne’s lips as she realised it didn’t matter. Grace was here, and she was not just smiling but laughing from joy as she caressed Leanne’s head. “Oh, my sweet girl, I’m so happy. You came back. I had always hoped you would.”

Leanne felt like a child again—small, frightened, and hopeful, in a way she hadn’t in decades. She held Grace’s hand and squeezed the gentle fingers to reassure herself that they were real. “Have you been here this whole time?”

“Of course I have, sweetheart.” Grace squeezed back. “I wouldn’t leave my children.”

Something moved in the darkness. The candlelight washed over Leanne and Grace, but it barely touched the rest of the room. Leanne squinted, trying to make out the shapes writhing through the black.

Children stepped forward, boys in shirts and shorts, girls in dresses. As young as four, as old as twelve, they clustered around Grace and Leanne, encircling them. But there were no smiles or laughter.

Leanne’s heart turned cold. The overwhelming joy faded. She turned slowly, searching the faces around her.

They stood, shoulder to shoulder, rows deep. Their features were emotionless. Their arms hung limply at their sides. None of them moved or made any noise. Their eyes were glazed with a sheen of white. Like blind eyes, except they were fixed on her, unblinking, intent.

“What is this?”

Leanne tried to take her hand out of Grace’s, but the woman clutched it harder. Her smile quivered, and for the first time, Leanne thought she saw a hint of eagerness in it.

“Don’t be frightened, my darling. I’ve been caring for them. They are warm and well-loved here.”

Leanne recognised faces from the crowd. Jayne, the girl who had disappeared into the forest. Paul, who had been called away from his desk. James. Millie. Hanna. Andrew.

But there were other faces, too. Faces she didn’t recognise. Faces from before her time. Older styles of clothes, pinched features, blank eyes.