Chapter Three

Inside Mishalariah's chamber in the summer of '75.

Mishalariah leaped onto her couch at the first sign of cold and drew her knees to her chin. She hugged her arms around her legs and watched in horror as the violent, bitter wind rushed in through the open door.

Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “Is that you, Spirit?” she asked, shivering.

There was no answer.

The blue velvet chair, empty, spun like a top in the gale. Then gusting wind-tipped fingers extinguished the sparks in the chamber walls, one by one, leaving her alone in the dark and freezing cold.

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First, her hands and feet went numb.

Then her arms and legs.

Soon, shallow breaths were all she could manage, and they crystallized before her face.

Finally, Mishalariah stopped shivering.

She closed her eyes and fell into a deep, lifeless sleep.

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