A range of mountains created the backdrop to what Adrian had made my resting place. They sloped gently behind a forest of naked trees. These had thicker trunks, perhaps because they were older, and they seemed to reach endless heights, disappearing into a thick ethereal mist that nearly blocked out the red sky.

I stared so long at this otherworldly place that I almost missed the grave.

It was so simple—a large stone at the base of a tree—but it stole my breath.

I walked past Adrian, making my own way to the grave, and though I knew I no longer rested here, I touched the stone that had guarded me for so long. But the longer I stayed in this place, the more violated I felt. Knowing that someone had come here and disturbed our grave was even more painful.

It also made me sick to think that someone—possibly Ravena—was in possession of my bones and those of my coven. We had learned early on as witches that any parts of a body, be it hair or nails or skin, were powerful conduits—they were links to the dead, to their memories, to their power. With them, she could siphon our magic, and while it would not be nearly as powerful, it was still dangerous, especially because she possessed The Book of Dis.

I looked at Adrian, whose gaze moved from my hand on the stone to my face.

“Why did you choose this place?” I asked, and I could tell by his expression that he was remembering something long ago. Then he looked away, toward the mountains, and I followed.

“There was a cottage here long ago,” he said, and as he spoke, something took root in my mind, and I thought I could see it and the way this place used to be before it had been drained of life in the same way my sisters had been drained of theirs—a forest crowded with commanding and verdant trees so lush, light only slipped through in pockets of gold. They made it nearly impossible to see the mountains, which grew rich moss and wildflowers in fertile crevices, and within that flora, I could see the cottage, a collection of stacked and varied stones, a thatched roof, and a door made of oak.

I knew this place because it was where Adrian and I had fled when Dragos had made the decision to kill me. It was here we had spent our final night together, and it was here where we’d been captured. Where he had been beaten and I had lost my voice screaming for it to stop.

It was where Dragos had violated me, and Adrian had watched and raged.

It was where we’d witnessed the place we had called our home for a few short hours burn to the ground.