Chapter 2

Seven years.

Marcus Thorne was no longer the dying man in the woods.

He was successful, a name in the city, a developer building empires.

And he was with Seraphina Hayes.

A socialite, all sharp angles and expensive perfume.

I saw them in a magazine first.

His arm around her, a smile I once thought was mine.

Then I heard his words, quoted in an article.

He talked about his new life, his sophisticated tastes.

He derided my "country ways," the "superstitions" of my Vermont homestead.

Each word was a small, cold stone dropped into my heart.

The Watcher felt it too.

The locket, always around my neck, grew heavier.

It couldn't act, not fully, not while I wore it, while I held it back.

But subtle things happened around me.

A glass shattering for no reason.

A sudden chill in a warm room.

Whispers too faint to understand.

The spirit was restless, sensing the shift in Marcus.

I knew it was time.

I decided to leave Marcus.

The life we shared, the luxury apartment overlooking the city, it felt like a cage.

A gilded cage, but a cage nonetheless.

His world was not mine, not anymore.

The Watcher' s unease was my own.

I went back to our apartment.

My key still worked.

The doorman, once so deferential, barely looked at me.

My belongings were gone from the master bedroom.

I found them piled in the spare room, some in boxes, some just tossed.

A maid I didn't recognize was in the hallway.

"Miss Hayes wanted your old room, ma'am," she said, not meeting my eyes. "She said it had better light."

Seraphina.

She was there, in the living room, examining a painting.

She turned, a cool smile on her lips.

"Oh, Elara. Marcus didn't say you were coming."

Her eyes scanned me, dismissive.

"I've been redecorating. This place needed an update."

Marcus walked in then, looking flustered.

"Elara. What are you doing here?"

It was a stupid question. This was still, technically, my home.

"I came for my things, Marcus."

His gaze softened for a moment, a flicker of something I couldn't name.

Then Seraphina spoke, her voice like ice.

"Marcus, darling, I've been feeling so drained lately. That old locket Elara wears, perhaps it could help? You said her family had... peculiar remedies."

My hand went to the locket instinctively.

Marcus looked from her to me.

"Elara, Seraphina isn't well. She thinks... she thinks the locket might help."

"No, Marcus," I said, my voice firm. "This locket must always be worn. It keeps The Watcher calm. It' s not a trinket."

I remembered my warning to him, seven years ago. A terrible price will be paid.

He stepped closer. "Don't be difficult, Elara. Just let her try it."

"I can't."

His face hardened.

"Give it to me."

It wasn't a request.

He reached for it. I pulled back.

He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging in.

With his other hand, he unclasped the locket from my neck.

The cold silver left my skin.

A sudden emptiness spread through me, a vulnerability I hadn't felt in years.

The Watcher, I could feel its energy surge, unconstrained.

Marcus handed the locket to Seraphina.

She took it, holding it between two fingers as if it were something dirty.

"It's rather tacky, isn't it?" she said, a small, cruel smile playing on her lips. "But if it helps..."

She turned to Marcus. "I know a wonderful guru, darling. He can do an energetic cleansing. Get rid of any... lingering bad vibes."

Marcus nodded, eager to please her. "Of course, whatever you think is best."

He didn't even look at me.

The Watcher thrashed invisibly around me, a cold wind only I could feel.