The lantern went out. In the sudden dark, the only thing Elias could see were the silver bells, glowing with a soft, necrotic light, leading him deeper into a winter that would never end. About the Real Book
"Elias," it hissed, the sound like dry leaves skittering over a tombstone. "The frost is only the skin. Come see what lies beneath the muscle."
He had come looking for his sister, following the trail of silver bells she’d tied to her coat. The village elders warned him that the ice didn't just freeze the blood; it preserved the memories of things that should have stayed dead.
The wind didn’t just blow through the valley of Winterset; it exhaled.
