The gravel crunched under my boots as I hurried toward the dark silhouette of the old chapel.

The guards kept pace beside me, their flashlights cutting yellow beams through the mist.

We reached the stone archway of the chapel.

The heavy wooden door was slightly ajar, a sliver of weak yellow light escaping from within.

I reached out and pushed the door open, the old iron hinges groaning in the silence.

I stepped into the dim interior of the chapel.

The air inside smelled of stale incense and damp stone.

At the far end, near the altar, a single candle flickered in the draft.

Rachel was sitting on the front wooden pew, her lace wedding gown spread out around her like a broken white wing.

She turned her head slowly, her face pale under the weak light.

Mascara had smudged in dark streaks beneath her eyes.

“Emily,” she whispered, her voice barely carrying through the empty space.

“Where is Mother?” I asked, keeping my voice flat and steady.

Rachel gestured toward the small vestry door behind the altar.

“She is resting in there,” Rachel said. “She is safe.”