Lyra barely slept.
The voice kept replaying in her head.
Don't trust him.
She had turned around immediately.
There had been no one there.
The road behind her had been completely empty, yet she'd felt certain that someone had been standing beside her.
Watching.
Listening.
She pulled the blanket closer and stared at the ceiling.
"Who are you?"
Nothing.
She almost laughed at herself.
Talking to empty rooms was becoming a habit.
By morning, Lyra had convinced herself that exhaustion had gotten the better of her.
Maybe she'd imagined the voice.
Maybe she'd heard someone in the village and her mind had filled in the rest.
There was a perfectly reasonable explanation.
She repeated that to herself while getting dressed.
It didn't help.
---
Clara was waiting downstairs.
"You look worse than yesterday."
"Thanks."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
Clara pushed a plate toward her.
"Eat."
Lyra picked up a piece of toast.
"Clara."
"Yes?"
"Do you know Rowan?"
Clara paused.
"From the village?"
"Yes."
"Everyone knows Rowan."
"Do you trust him?"
Clara frowned.
"Why wouldn't I?"
Lyra hesitated.
Because a voice had told her not to?
That sounded ridiculous.
"No reason."
Clara studied her.
"You don't like him?"
"I barely know him."
"You seemed to like him before."
"I did."
"Before what?"
Lyra looked down at her breakfast.
"Nothing."
Clara didn't push.
For that, Lyra was grateful.
---
Later that morning, Lyra returned to the library.
The hidden passage was still there.
She checked the bookshelf twice before slipping behind it.
She wasn't sure what she expected to find.
The room beyond the passage looked exactly as she'd left it.
Elias's photograph was still on the desk.
Lyra picked it up.
There was something about his expression that bothered her.
He didn't look like someone who belonged in a frightening family story.
He looked ordinary.
A little serious, perhaps.
But ordinary.
She turned the photograph over.
Nothing new.
Lyra put it down.
Then she noticed a small drawer beneath the desk.
It was locked.
She took the silver key from her pocket.
The key she'd found outside her bedroom.
She slid it into the lock.
It turned.
Lyra froze.
Slowly, she pulled the drawer open.
Inside was a folded letter.
Her hands trembled as she picked it up.
The envelope had never been sealed.
There was no name on the front.
She unfolded the paper.
Only a few lines had been written.
If you're reading this, then the house chose you.
Lyra stopped.
Her heart began to beat faster.
I don't know when you'll find this. I don't know if I'll still be here when you do.
She read on.
But if you are a Vale, there's something you need to know.
Lyra's breath caught.
The next line had been scratched out.
She could barely make out the words underneath.
Your family didn't leave the Hollow.
A sound came from the hallway.
Lyra folded the letter quickly.
Someone was coming.
She shoved it into her pocket and slipped back through the passage.
The bookshelf hadn't fully closed.
Through the gap, she saw Mrs. Harrow enter the library.
The housekeeper stood silently in the center of the room.
She looked around.
Then her eyes settled on the bookshelf.
Lyra held her breath.
Mrs. Harrow walked toward it.
One step.
Two.
Then she stopped.
For a moment, Lyra thought she had been discovered.
But Mrs. Harrow turned away.
"Not yet," she whispered.
Lyra frowned.
Not yet?
The housekeeper left.
Lyra waited several minutes before coming out.
Her mind raced.
She pulled the letter from her pocket.
Your family didn't leave the Hollow.
What did that mean?
Her parents?
Her ancestors?
Why had she never heard any of this?
She needed answers.
And there was only one person she could think of who might have them.
Rowan.
She found him near the bakery.
He was carrying a box through the back door when he saw her.
"Lyra."
"Can we talk?"
His expression changed.
"Sure."
She followed him around the side of the building.
"You told me yesterday that people had disappeared from the Hollow."
"Yes."
"How many?"
"I don't know."
"Who?"
Rowan hesitated.
"Why are you asking?"
"Just answer me."
He looked at her for a moment.
Then he sighed.
"My grandmother had an old newspaper clipping."
"What did it say?"
"It mentioned three people."
Lyra's stomach tightened.
"Three?"
"Three disappearances over several decades."
"And Elias?"
"He's one of them."
Lyra stared at him.
"Then why didn't you tell me yesterday?"
"Because I didn't know if it was true."
"You knew enough to mention it."
"I was trying to help you."
"By leaving things out?"
Rowan's expression hardened.
"Not everything is a conspiracy, Lyra."
She went quiet.
He sighed.
"I'm sorry."
Lyra looked away.
She wanted to believe him.
She really did.
But the voice from last night wouldn't leave her alone.
Don't trust him.
"Is there anything else you haven't told me?"
Rowan looked at her.
"No."
For some reason, Lyra didn't believe him.
Neither of them noticed the figure standing across the road.
Watching them.
Watching Lyra.
And when Rowan finally glanced in that direction, the figure was gone.