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It slowly comes to me that she’s not being bathed. She’s being prepared.

“There’s a robe.”

“What color?”

“Grey? Black?” Her fingers pinch my sleeve, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger. “It’s warm.”

“Good. Remember that. You’re warm.”

"I'm scared, Timothy.”

"I know, sweetheart, but you’re safe. I’m right here.”

"They keep telling me I'm honored."

My stomach tightens. "The same thing the Demon said?"

"Yes." She takes another breath, but this one comes out shaky. "They keep saying I'm chosen, and if I do everything the Guardian says, I’ll be rewarded.”

I look down at the top of her head, trying to make sense of it, but this is Amber’s mind and logic holds no place there.

"What happens next?"

"We walk.”

“How far?”

"I don't know. A long time, I think. Maybe? There’s no daylight. Only tunnels. Dirt and clay all around me. Torches lighting our way. One person in front of me. Another behind.”

“And after that? After the tunnel?”

Her answer comes immediately.

"Another door opens. This room is made of stone. The walls. The floor. There are candles.”

I keep my voice even. "What else?"

“It smells like incense, something both sweet and bitter at the same time. It burns my throat.” She swallows. “There are shelves lining the walls, the space is crowded.”

“What kind of things are on it?”

“It’s a menagerie. Bundles of herbs and feathers. Glass jars of oil. Little figurines carved from black stone. Little wooden boxes sealed with wax. Ceramic bowls overflowing with teeth, bones, and other charms.” Her forehead wrinkles. “There are spools of twine and fabric. It looks like the Devil’s work table.”

Not quite, but it does sound like where Amber may have kept her supplies to create her hex bags.

Her breathing quickens. "There are skulls."

I feel something cold settle in my bones. "Human?"

"Yes."

"Are they real?"

"I don't know. They have markings carved into them."

"What kind of markings?"

She shakes her head. "I can't..."