CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
WHAT WAS BURIED
The last thing Charity said was—
"Yes."
The word barely existed before the room began to disappear.
The walls dissolved first.
Then the table.
Then the chairs.
Harold's hand slipped from hers.
The darkness swallowed everything.
For a few seconds, there was nothing.
No sound.
No light.
No movement.
Then—
a flame.
One small flame appeared in the darkness.
Then another.
Then another.
And another.
Until there were dozens of them.
Candles.
They stood in a wide circle across a stone floor, their flames trembling despite the fact that there was no visible breeze.
The air was thick.
Heavy.
Something burned somewhere nearby.
Incense.
But the smell wasn't sweet.
It was bitter.
Almost medicinal.
It crawled into Destiny's nose and sat at the back of her throat.
She coughed.
Carol immediately turned toward her.
"Destiny?"
Destiny could hear her.
She could see her.
But neither of them could move.
