Chapter 2

The days that followed were a blur of calculated cruelty. Ethan, under Veronica's spell, began "The Purge." He claimed Isabella had always been terrified of my people, the Echoing Hollow Keepers, and their "unnatural" practices. He said it for Veronica, for the public, to erase me, to erase us.

State troopers descended on Echoing Hollow. Arrests were made. Some of my kin died resisting, their bodies left where they fell. Our sacred burial grounds, tended for generations, were desecrated. They said it was for state security, for public order. It was for Veronica' s peace of mind.

I was a prisoner in the Governor's mansion, watched, isolated. Maya, a junior aide to Ethan, was my only flicker of kindness. She'd seen Ethan' s shift, his coldness towards me, his obsession with Veronica. Her loyalty silently transferred to me.

"They're burying some of them in the Crimson Ash grove," Maya whispered one night, her face pale. "A mass grave, Elara. Hasty."

Grief was a constant, heavy cloak, but beneath it, a plan began to form. I had to get them back. I had to perform the rites. Their spirits couldn't rest like this.

Aided by Maya, who created a diversion, I slipped out under the cover of darkness. I reached the Crimson Ash grove. The ground was freshly disturbed in several places. My people. My family.

I started to dig with my bare hands, frantic, desperate.

Headlights cut through the trees. Marcus Thorne, Ethan' s Chief of Staff, stepped out of a car, flanked by troopers.

"Mrs. Vance," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "The Governor forbids this. Miss Hayes is sensitive. She needs peace. This site is not to be disturbed."

"These are my people," I choked out, dirt and tears on my face.

"If you persist," Marcus continued, his tone unwavering, "the Governor has authorized me to have all remains in this grove cremated en masse. For public health reasons, of course."

Cremated. Their spirits scattered, never to find peace in the Hollow. The ultimate desecration for a Keeper.

I looked at the cold faces of the troopers, at Marcus' s implacable expression. I was defeated, for now.

"I need to re-inter them properly, then," I said, my voice hollow. "At least let me do that."

He nodded, a curt, almost reluctant gesture. "You have one hour. Then you will not return here."

With Maya weeping silently beside me, I did what I could, whispering the old words, my hands aching, my heart shattered. We covered them again, the sacred earth of the grove now a place of torment.

As I finished, Marcus stepped forward again. "One more thing. The Governor will be making a public announcement. Your son died of a sudden illness, a congenital weakness. His body has been respectfully interred elsewhere. You are not to seek him. Do you understand?"

My son. Another lie. Another piece of me stolen and buried under a fiction.

I nodded, the fight draining out of me, replaced by a cold, simmering resolve. I would comply, for now. I had to. But this was not over. I would bring them home. All of them.