Never mind the fact that she well knew her brother was dead; Kathy wasn’t inclined to be skeptical when she was faced with the opportunity to see him again. She gave the woman a shaky smile and did her best to dry her eyes. Liam never liked to see her cry.
Taking in slow, deep breaths and trying to compose herself, she found a spot on the wall and focused in on it, letting her mind wander. Her memory seemed clear as day now, up to a certain point. Three days (or more than two centuries, if one wished to be technical) ago, her father had finally made good on his many promises to throw out his son, and the girl had stood there with her mother and watched him leave. She remembered hating her father then, pleading with her mother to bargain for his return to their home, and refusing to believe the argument that their father had acted out of concern for Liam’s best interests.
That very night, Liam was been found dead, and instantly their house was in an uproar. And, though she knew it was final she clung to denial as a means of solace, rationalizing that it must not be true, as nobody would give her a straight answer as to what had happened to him. It hadn’t hit her until the following evening. During the traditional wake, she was struck by the irony that his return to their home—for which she had prayed so hard—was due to such a circumstance.
The following days were a blur. There was the funeral, of course, and loads of neighbors offering their condolences. Kathy had been content to hover in the background, constantly studying the sketches her brother had done for her until she had converted each stroke to memory. It was her only comfort.
Although these memories were vivid, she couldn’t for the life of her remember what must have led her to come to this strange new place. Nor could she remember putting on the white dress.
A new and very sudden presence in the room tore her from her thoughts, and she started, backing into the wall behind Charlie. Two people entered: another woman and a man that was brandishing a sword. The latter addressed Lindsey with something like disdain, before settling his gaze on her, staring at her almost as if he had seen a ghost.
The man…he spoke with the same strange dialect as the other two people she had just met, and his hair and manner of dress were styled appropriately. But at the same time, there was something unmistakable in his face. Staring intently right back at him, her head cocked to the side, brow furrowing. It wasn’t possible.
“…Liam?” she asked at last, in a very small, uncertain voice.