Prologue
“Would you like to hear a ghost story?”
“Like the ones about the Agapov and Ilyin?”
“No, love, not legends of witches or vampires. What do you know about ghosts?”
“They’re spirits that escaped Nuwaar.”
“No, they’re messengers from Soloy-“
“Opesh says they’re restless souls-“
“Opesh says he kissed a Svotsa-“
“Your grandfather says many-”
“How does he know it was a Svotsa?”
“She was wearing a white dress in a storm and offered kisses as warm as fresh jzeto cake!”
“Why do all ghosts wear white?”
“They’re dead spirits, maketa. They aren’t allowed to wear the colors of life.”
“Why not wear black?”
“They can’t hide from Soloy wearing his color.”
“Don’t call your brother a maketa. Not all ghosts are clad in bone shades. Some look just like you or I, and not all of them fear Soloy.”
“Why not?”
“Because some ghosts are not dead yet.”
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