When the magazines became repetitive, I decided to do my own research and, since reception was terrible in our room and even loading The Chitter Chatter took ages, decided to go down to the library. Muffin was the only living soul I encountered on my way there. She watched me warily for a moment before she stalked off around the next corner, slinking back into the shadows from which she had emerged.

Finally, I reached the library, my heart rate spiking at the obnoxiously loud jingling of the keys when I unlocked the door.

I froze, one hand on the door handle as I listened for any steps coming my way, but when nothing happened, I soundlessly slipped inside.

The light vanished as soon as the door fell shut behind me, leaving me in pitch-black darkness. My own breathing seemed deafening in the thick silence, the creaking of the wooden floorboards beneath my shoes ringing out like screams. The tall shadows surrounding me swallowed the shine of my phone’s flashlight, the light never quite reaching the back of the room.

In the darkness, the shelves seemed to come alive, closing in on me as I passed between them, and I had to slap a hand over my mouth to stop myself from crying out when I bumped into one of them. By the time I reached the computers, my breathing was ragged and my heart pounding so loudly I could hear nothing else over it.

The computer needed ages to turn on and when it did, its humming was so loud I feared the entire castle could hear it.

After casting a few paranoid glances over my shoulder, I went on the internet and searched for Crystal Danell. The first pages all said exactly the same things I had read in the magazines, nothing new or particularly interesting, so I decided to search for more specific things that answered what I was looking for: I typed in Crystal Danel ’s daughter.

The first site that popped up seemed to be a fan page of sorts, showcasing mostly photos of Crystal. I scrolled down without seeing anything relevant to my search and I was just about to click off the site when a small picture in the upper-right corner made my breathing hitch. There was Crystal, a few years younger, along with a girl that had to be around thirteen. They were in what seemed to be a shopping center, Crystal carrying a few shopping bags with one hand while the other was resting protectively on the little girl’s back.

Seeing them next to each other was the final piece of evidence.

Even four years younger, in denim overalls and pigtails, Noelle was clearly recognizable. The only real difference was the expression on her face: her smile was wide and infectious, her eyes shining up at her mom like she had hung the moon for her.

It was an expression that I had seen only in short flickers, and even then, it had been nowhere as bright as the one on young Noelle’s face.