“You are welcome, my dear,” I tell her. “Thank you for answering the call. We are the Lazarus Coven, and we seek only to ask your guidance. Please know that you are safe here, and that we will do nothing to put you in harm’s way, nor to prevent you from returning to your rightful home when the time comes. What is your name?”

The girl looks at me for a moment with wide blue eyes and then starts to slowly walk around the circle, looking out at the faces that peer back at her. “Amelia,” she says in a childish voice, before returning to singing the little song she had begun earlier. She certainly seems at ease in the chamber, and, although surprised, is not perplexed about being called. It never fails to astonish me how young some spirit guides are. Children sometimes answer our calling. The gift of foresight which the dead receive when they arrive in the Land of Night does not discriminate between infants and adults. All are given the ability to look into the future of those still left in the Land of Day. What differs is the individual’s skill in clearly explaining what they see. Added to which, being human, however altered, spirits can be, on occasion, capricious, or even spiteful. It is their knowledge, after all, their gift. Not all of them want to share it. Some even allow themselves to be called with the express purpose of wielding their power, enjoying a position of influence and respect which they may never have had while living.

It is the job of the necromancer to elicit the truth from a visiting soul. It is not always easy.

“That’s a pretty name,” I say. “And those are very pretty flowers.”

She nods, looking at the blooms in her hands and stroking the petals thoughtfully. “I picked them myself,” she tells us. “From Grandmama’s garden. Such a sunny day. I miss the sun so.”

She seems so fragile, so delicate. I must treat her carefully.

“We have come together to celebrate Yulemass.”

“I do not care for midwinter. Nothing grows in the garden at midwinter.”

I want to ask her if she has a garden of sorts in her home on the other side of the Rubicon, but I know I must not. We are not allowed to question spirits about the Land of Night. If they choose to tell us, all well and good, but our purpose is not to delve into the mysteries of that existence. We are concerned with helping and protecting the living.

“Amelia, we feel we are in a time of great change. Will you help us? Will you tell us what challenges lie ahead, so that we can be better prepared to face them?”

“Everything is changing,” she says, still pacing slowly around and around in the circle, still playing with her flowers. “Everything.”