Crow, Come to Me

Where had that voice come from? August stared out into the distance, waiting to hear it again—that disembodied, ethereal voice that was nonetheless unmistakably Greta's. Why was Greta calling to her? Were they in trouble? If that were the case, why wouldn't it be Graeme's voice she was hearing?

"We need you or we need to find that talisman," the voice drifted her way again, carried on the very air itself.

August let the Veiled come fully to her eyes, looking for any indication as to how she had heard it. There was no way that Greta was here. There was no way they had come for her after she left Graeme the way that she had—with him understanding why she must leave to do this alone, with him giving her his full trust—something she cherished deeply.

A ripple of what appeared to be sound waves flourished around her, and she reached out to touch one, but it skittered away—ungraspable, its waves moving now in the opposite direction.