Chapter 1

The small, knitted cap felt too big in my hand, the yarn soft, meant for a head that would never wear it.

Our son was gone.

Seven months. We' d almost made it.

Izzy stood by the window, her back to me, on the phone.

Her voice was low, but I caught Julian' s name, then something about a sterile environment.

My chest was a hollow drum.

"Eli, honey," she said, finally turning, her face arranged in a mask of concern that didn' t quite reach her eyes. "Julian' s specialist is on his way, we need to make sure everything is perfect for his recovery here."

Julian. Always Julian.

Our son, a footnote.

"He' s not recovering here, Izzy," I said, my voice raspy.

She frowned, a delicate line between her brows. "Don' t be difficult, Eli, not now. Julian needs this. He needs Whisperwind Hollow' s energy."

I looked from her to the empty bassinet in the corner, the one my mother had lovingly restored.

The silence in the room was heavier than the mountain air outside.

My mother, Eleanor, had tried to warn me about Izzy, about the city gloss that hid something cold underneath. I hadn' t listened.

Now, a part of me was gone, sacrificed for a man I barely knew, for a "cure" that sounded like something from a nightmare. Fetal tissue. Our child.

Izzy had cried, pleaded, said it was the only way to save Julian, her dear friend, her ex.

She' d said our son would be a hero.

He was just gone.

The anger started then, a slow burn beneath the grief.

"He' s not staying on my land," I repeated.

Izzy' s eyes hardened. "It' s my land too, Eli. And Julian is my priority right now. He' s suffering."

Suffering. I looked at the tiny cap again.

This was the beginning of the end, I knew it. The whispers of the Hollow, the ones my family had guarded for generations, seemed to curl around me, cold and knowing.