Prologue
The Night Everything Burned
«"Every line has a purpose. Look closer."
— Evelyn Larsen's Sketchbook»
Rain drummed gently against the windows of the Larsen house, turning the world outside into a blur of silver and shadow.
Inside, everything was warm.
The scent of cinnamon drifted from the kitchen, where Thomas Larsen hummed softly as he stirred a pot on the stove. A jazz record crackled from the old player in the corner, filling the little house with music that seemed to dance through every room.
Eight-year-old Larol Larsen lay on his stomach across the living room rug, his tongue peeking out in concentration as he copied a raven from one of his mother's sketchbooks.
He frowned.
"No... that's not right."
His eraser rubbed furiously across the page.
"You made its beak too big."
Larol looked up with exaggerated annoyance.
His five-year-old sister, Lena, sat cross-legged beside him, hugging a stuffed rabbit that had clearly seen better days.
"I did not."
"You did."
"I didn't."
Lena giggled.
"It's going to scare all the other birds."
Larol rolled his eyes.
"They're supposed to be scary."
"They're supposed to fly."
"They can do both."
Across the room, Evelyn Larsen laughed quietly without looking up from her own drawing.
"Your sister has a point."
Larol gasped dramatically.
"Mom!"
"What?" she teased, hiding a smile. "Artists have to accept criticism."
Thomas leaned around the kitchen doorway, drying his hands on a towel.
"I agree with Lena."
Larol threw his hands into the air.
"Nobody in this house appreciates my genius."
"Oh, we appreciate it," Thomas replied with a grin.
"We're just waiting for it to show up."
Laughter echoed through the house.
For a little while...
Life was ordinary.
The kind of ordinary that people never realise they'll miss until it's gone.
Evelyn closed her sketchbook and walked over to Larol.
She knelt beside him and gently turned his drawing toward herself.
"You know what makes a good artist?"
Larol shrugged.
"Drawing?"
She smiled.
"No."
She placed a finger lightly against the page.
"Looking."
He frowned.
"I am looking."
"Not with your eyes."
She tapped his chest.
"With this."
Larol stared at her.
"I don't get it."
"You will one day."
She kissed his forehead before standing.
"Art isn't about drawing what everyone else sees."
She glanced at the raven on the page.
"It's about noticing what everyone else misses."
Larol looked back down at his drawing.
He didn't fully understand her words.
But he would remember them.
Forever.
A pair of headlights swept across the front window.
The room fell silent.
Thomas stopped moving.
Evelyn's smile disappeared.
They exchanged a look.
One filled with fear.
A sharp knock echoed through the house.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Not the knock of a neighbour.
Not the knock of a friend.
The knock of someone who expected the door to open.
Thomas crossed the room and looked through the curtain.
The colour drained from his face.
"They found us."
Larol looked up.
"Dad?"
Thomas turned immediately.
"Larol."
Something in his voice made the little boy's heart pound.
"I need you to listen to me."
He scooped Larol into one arm and reached for Lena with the other.
Without another word, he hurried them down the hallway toward a small storage room.
Evelyn was already there.
She pulled an old wooden bookshelf away from the wall, revealing a narrow hidden door.
Larol's eyes widened.
"I didn't know that was there."
"We hoped you never would," Thomas whispered.
He opened the door.
Behind it was a cramped space beneath the floorboards.
Dark.
Dusty.
Hidden.
"Inside."
Lena clutched her rabbit tighter.
"I don't want to."
Thomas knelt until he was eye level with her.
"I know, sweetheart."
Tears shimmered in Evelyn's eyes as she crouched beside them.
"You remember our secret game?"
Lena gave a tiny nod.
"The quiet game?"
"That's right."
Evelyn brushed a strand of hair behind Lena's ear.
"And tonight..."
Her voice trembled.
"...I need you both to win."
Larol looked between his parents.
"What's happening?"
Thomas placed both hands on his son's shoulders.
"I need you to protect your sister."
Larol swallowed.
"I'm only eight."
"I know."
Thomas smiled sadly.
"But you're brave."
Larol nodded anyway.
"I'll protect her."
Thomas hugged him so tightly it almost hurt.
"I know you will."
Evelyn slipped something small into Larol's hoodie pocket.
He looked down.
A silver locket.
It was warm from her hand.
"Keep this safe."
"Why?"
"Because one day..."
Her eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall.
"...someone will need to remember."
A loud crash shattered the front door.
The whole house shook.
Thomas stood instantly.
"They're inside."
Evelyn kissed Larol's forehead.
Then Lena's.
"I love you more than all the stars."
"I love you too, Mommy," Lena whispered.
Thomas closed the hidden door.
Darkness swallowed them.
Only a thin crack between the wooden boards let in a sliver of light.
Heavy footsteps thundered through the hallway.
Voices.
Angry.
Unfamiliar.
A man's cold voice cut through the chaos.
"Find the sketchbook."
Larol's heart hammered.
The sketchbook?
Furniture crashed.
Glass shattered.
Someone screamed.
Lena buried her face against Larol's shoulder.
"I'm scared."
"So am I."
He wrapped one arm around her.
"It's going to be okay."
He wasn't sure if he believed it.
A moment later...
Lena looked up.
"I want Mommy."
"No."
"I want her."
"You promised."
"I don't care."
Before Larol could stop her, she pushed the hidden door open just enough to squeeze through.
"Lena!"
She disappeared into the hallway.
Larol reached after her—
—but froze.
His father's last words echoed in his mind.
Protect your sister.
Stay hidden.
Then—
A scream.
One that didn't sound like a grown-up.
Silence followed.
The kind of silence that steals the air from a room.
Larol sat there, shaking, tears streaming silently down his face.
He didn't know how long he waited.
Minutes.
Hours.
Maybe until the sun began to rise.
When he finally pushed open the hidden door, the house no longer looked like home.
The front door hung from broken hinges.
Furniture lay overturned.
The jazz record spun in silence, its needle clicking against the centre.
Evelyn's sketchbook rested on the floor.
Most of its pages remained.
But one...
One page had been torn out.
Larol picked it up with trembling hands.
"Mom?"
No answer.
"Dad?"
Nothing.
"Lena?"
Only the sound of rain.
Outside, a raven landed on the broken front gate.
It watched him.
Then spread its wings and disappeared into the grey morning sky.
Larol clutched the silver locket in his pocket.
He didn't understand why his mother had given it to him.
He didn't know why one page was missing.
He didn't know that somewhere beyond the ashes of that night...
The truth had survived.
Waiting patiently...
To be found.
