But she is also right. Even if I reject Harry, Travis would never speak for me in his place. He would never cause his brother such embarrassment or pain. It is as if every door in my life has been slammed shut, every window boarded up until there is only one path for me to take. My choice is either Harry or the Sisterhood.

And so, as my shoulders fall, I relent. “Okay,” I tell her.

She nods once. And then says, “You must let Travis go now. Today. Here.” A protest hovers at my lips but her eyes scare me into silence. I wonder if we'll ever be friends again or if this will be the end of us. Of course we'll always be civil—the village is too small to feud—but will we share ourselves fully with each other as we did before?

Suddenly, in this moment I feel as if I have no ground, as if I have lost everything all at once and I need something to hold steady. I see my life in a flash, Cass always by my side, always listening to my stories and laughing with me and sharing our lives. Memories of our friendship fill me and tears prick my eyes. I need Cass now; I cannot lose this last tie to everything I have ever been.

“Promise me,” I tell her. “Promise me that we will still be friends, will continue to be there for each other.”

She smiles, a hint of the old Cass, the scent of sunbeams floating through the air. “Yes,” she says. And all I can think is, if it were only that simple, as I remember how it was always someone else she came to visit at the Cathedral and never me.

I look back down the hallway, past Travis's room to where the Outsider was being kept. Her door is open barely a crack, a sliver of light slipping through. Pushing past Cass, I run to the room but it's bare, no linens on the bed or any other evidence that a guest has recently occupied this space. I should have known. The window has been dark for days.

Cass stands behind me in the doorway, clearly confused. But rather than explain anything to her I walk to the window and tilt my head at an angle until I can see a handprint, the pads of the fingers clearly visible. I step closer and my breath hits the glass and words suddenly appear in the mist it leaves behind.

Gabrielle, it says, followed by a series of letters: XIV. Other than this echo, there is no evidence that she ever existed. I trace my fingers over the letters, effectively obliterating them.

“What do you see?” Cass asks, coming to stand beside me.

“Do you ever wonder if there is an end to the Forest?” I ask her. I have asked her this before and I already know what her answer will be.

She giggles, fully herself now. “You never do give up your fancies, do you, Mary?” she asks.