Lyra didn't mention the figure to anyone.
Not Clara.
Not Mrs. Harrow.
And definitely not Rowan.
She wasn't even sure she'd actually seen someone.
But the feeling of being watched followed her all the way back to the Hollow.
By the time she reached the estate, the sky had turned a dull shade of blue-gray. The trees surrounding the house swayed in the wind, their branches scraping against one another.
Lyra stopped at the gate.
Something caught her attention.
A muddy footprint.
Right outside the entrance.
She crouched.
It was fresh.
Someone had been standing there recently.
She looked toward the road.
Empty.
"Great," she muttered.
She straightened and continued toward the house.
Halfway up the driveway, she heard a voice.
"Miss Lyra."
She turned.
Tom was standing near the garden, holding a pair of pruning shears.
"You're back late."
"Was I?"
"Later than usual."
Lyra shrugged.
"I went to the village."
Tom nodded.
Then his eyes dropped to her shoes.
"Did you go near the woods?"
Lyra frowned.
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Why?"
Tom looked toward the trees.
"Nothing."
Lyra stared at him.
"You've said that before."
He gave her a tired smile.
"And you keep asking questions."
"Because nobody gives me proper answers."
Tom laughed quietly.
"Fair enough."
He returned to trimming the hedge.
Lyra was about to leave when she noticed something hanging from his wrist.
A small silver chain.
The same darkened silver as the key.
She stopped.
"Where did you get that?"
Tom's hand immediately covered it.
"This?"
"Yes."
"Old family thing."
"You worked for the Hollow family?"
"My father did."
Lyra's curiosity sharpened.
"Did he know Elias?"
Tom's expression changed.
Just slightly.
But she noticed.
"You know about him?"
"Everyone knows something about him."
"That's not what I asked."
Tom sighed.
"You really don't know when to leave things alone, do you?"
"No."
He looked around before lowering his voice.
"My father used to work here when Elias was alive."
Lyra stepped closer.
"What was he like?"
Tom thought for a moment.
"Quiet."
"That's it?"
"He kept to himself."
"Was he dangerous?"
Tom gave her a strange look.
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
Lyra noticed.
"Then why does everyone act like he was?"
Tom looked toward the house.
"Because people are afraid of things they don't understand."
"What didn't they understand?"
He shook his head.
"I can't talk about that."
Lyra sighed.
"Of course."
Tom smiled faintly.
"There's something I can tell you."
"What?"
"Stay away from the woods after dark."
"Why?"
"Because that's where Elias used to go."
Lyra's stomach tightened.
"Why?"
Tom looked toward the trees.
"Nobody knows."
That night, Lyra couldn't stop thinking about what Tom had said.
She sat at her desk with the letter she'd found in Elias's room spread before her.
Your family didn't leave the Hollow.
She read it again.
Then she looked at the silver key.
What had the Vale family done?
And why was she being pulled into it now?
A knock sounded on her door.
Lyra quickly folded the letter.
"Come in."
Clara entered carrying a tray.
"I brought you tea."
"Thanks."
Clara placed it on the desk.
Then she noticed the letter.
"What's that?"
"Something I found."
"Where?"
Lyra hesitated.
"Never mind."
Clara sighed.
"You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Keeping secrets."
Lyra smiled.
"Look who's talking."
Clara laughed.
"Fair."
She sat on the edge of the chair.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Clara said, "My mother called."
Lyra looked up.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"What did she say?"
Clara's smile disappeared.
"She asked if you were there."
Lyra's stomach dropped.
"Me?"
Clara nodded.
"She knew your name."
Neither girl spoke.
"How?" Lyra finally asked.
"I don't know."
"Did she explain?"
"No."
Clara looked toward the window.
"She told me to leave the Hollow."
Lyra stared at her.
"Why?"
"She wouldn't say."
A sudden gust rattled the window.
Both girls turned.
The curtain moved.
Lyra stood.
"Did you lock that?"
Clara nodded.
"Yes."
Lyra approached the window.
The latch was still in place.
She touched the glass.
Cold.
Then she noticed something on the other side.
A handprint.
Not on the inside.
On the outside.
Lyra stepped back.
Clara whispered, "That's impossible."
The handprint slowly disappeared.
Not wiped away.
It simply faded from the glass.
Lyra stared.
Neither girl moved.
Then something hit the window.
Once.
Hard.
Clara screamed.
Lyra grabbed her arm.
"Don't open it."
Another knock.
This time, three quick taps.
Lyra looked toward the darkness outside.
And there, between the trees, stood a figure.
Too far away to see clearly.
But Lyra knew one thing.
It was looking directly at her window.
She blinked.
The figure was gone.
On the glass, however, four words slowly appeared through the condensation.
You shouldn't have come back.