The car pulled away from the curb, the tires gripping the ice as we headed back toward the city.

And the silence of the winter night fell over us once more.

But as the lights of the city appeared through the white, the phone in my pocket began to buzz again.

A single call, the screen flashing with a name I had never seen before.

“The Promise.”

I pressed the button and put the phone to my ear, my hand trembling in the dark.

“Evelyn,” a voice whispered, the connection crackling with static.

“Don’t look back.”

And the line went dead.

I looked out the window, but there was nothing to see.

Only the snow, falling endless and silent, covering the empty streets of Chicago.

And the castle we had left behind was already gone, buried in the white.

But the key was still in my hand.

And the lock was waiting.

The car drove on, into the heart of the storm, and did not stop.

We were going home.

But home was a place we had yet to build.