Remi trembled, afraid to roll over and look. She pressed her fingers to her eyes as every muscle in her body wound painfully with the fear blooming inside of her.

Go away, she thought. Please, just go.

Footsteps sounded on the floor, moving farther and farther away. Remi dropped her hands from her eyes and sat up quickly. No one was there, but the door had been pushed open. She flew to her feet, clutching her hands close together as she crept into the hall.

Not far from where she stood was the outline of a person.

It moved, slipping around the corner. Footsteps echoed on the stairs, one by one and Remi followed slowly behind, careful to avoid any loose floorboards. It waited for her on the landing between floors, moving before she could make out a face. It watched, waiting, just as it had at her bedroom door.

The shadow turned down the hall toward Edgar’s study. Her breath caught in her throat as the faint line of a golden light sprawled across the darkness. The curtained window at the end of the hall gave off enough light to lend itself to the silhouette, and Remi’s eyes burned with tears of sadness and fear.

“Edgar?” Remi’s voice was barely above a whisper.

She inched closer as his white eyes trained on her.

Before, when she had seen him, moths had crawled out of his mouth.

Now he only watched her, unblinking.

What could he want?

Edgar turned back to the doors in front of him and walked through them. His silhouette and his footsteps disappeared as they breached the study’s doors. Remi tiptoed after him, closer to the burning golden light. For a brief moment, she felt as if her mind was unraveling. How could Edgar be there? Was this how Ben felt, chasing after his sister’s visage in the rain? Remi peeked inside the study through a crack.

She swallowed, took the handles, and pushed them down lightly.

They clicked.

Inside there was a fire and lit oil lamps, but Edgar was nowhere to be found. In his place, asleep at his father’s desk, was Ben. She thought to turn back and return to her room, but Edgar had led her there for a reason. Quietly, Remi inched inside and approached the desk with as light a foot as she could manage.

Ben snored softly, his expression gentle, unmarred by the lines of his typical scowl. She could have watched him sleep all night, but the door slammed shut behind her. She screamed and jumped backward into the desk, toppling onto Ben’s lap and startling him awake.

With a loud thud, they landed on the hardwood floor.

BEN

As a boy, Ben loved to play on the beach below the house. There was a set of old stairs that had been built into the cliff’s side a long time ago by his great, great grandfather. His mother warned him to exercise caution and often reprimanded his father for not having them fixed sooner. They had tried to keep him from the beach by blocking off the stairs, but he always found a way down. Ben proved to be too smart and too fiercely determined to be kept away from his special hideaway.

In his opinion, the beach was the best place for thinking. And after his mother’s passing, he disappeared there more often, exchanging solemn grieving for long hours of thinking. That suited him just fine.

Soleil would join him in the days before they’d lost their mother. She’d sit on a picnic blanket and read one of her novels. Sometimes Martin, the cook, would surprise them with a packed basket for lunch. Then those days were gone. Ben was ten, and Soleil was seventeen. Her interests changed, and she spent less time with him and more time in her room. It was rare to see her anywhere outside, even at supper. She was a recluse.

Their duet became a solo act, leaving Ben alone.

Thankfully, Martin still packed a basket for lunch, and Ben brought the tattered remains of Soleil’s old blanket along with him. Sometimes, he brought a book just to keep his mind sharp. His father’s study grew more and more, the once-empty shelves filled with books on everything from insects to botany. Picking out a book was as much time as Ben ever spent with him anymore; their short discussions on his reading habits became somewhat of a comfort.

Still, nothing was ever the same. Each of them grieved in their own ways, yet Ben was the first to surface from it. Then, on one particularly chilly day by the beach, he welcomed an unexpected visitor.

“What are you reading?” a small, soft voice crooned from behind him.

Startled, Ben dropped his snack and book into the wet sand. He grumbled as he picked them up, stopping short when he found himself face to face with a girl he didn’t recognize.

“I’m so sorry,” the girl said quickly. She stood a few feet away, her hands clutched at her chest, her bright eyes gleaming.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people.” Ben felt his face redden, flushed from embarrassment.

“I didn’t mean to.” She appeared hurt by the accusation. “You just looked lonely, and I thought it would be nice to say hello.”

Ben sucked in a breath and sighed deeply. “I suppose it’s alright, so long as you don’t do it again.”

“I promise!” A little grin pulled at her lips and her eyes flashed with excitement. Though there was little sunshine, Ben noted right away their peculiar shade as they blinked between blue and green—much like the ocean around the island. He could have sworn they were little oceans themselves.

I’ve been reading too much of Soleil’s poetry, he thought. “Well then, who are you, and where did you come from?”

“The stairs,” she said with a spark of mischief.

He rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t answer either of my questions.”

“I asked you a question first.” She pointed at his now sand-covered book.

Ben glanced down, having entirely forgotten about his ruined snack and book. He wiped the latter on his trousers. “Some entomological journal by an obscure author.”

“Entomology?”

“Bugs.”

The girl made a face. “I don’t like bugs much, but I think butterflies are lovely.”

“It’s interesting.” Ben ran a hand over the cover. “I can identify three different types of beetles now, more than I could before.”

Skeptical, she tilted her head. “How many could you identify before?”

“None,” Ben said plainly. “Now, who are you, and where are you from? You did not magically appear from nowhere.”

“My name is Remi,” she said. “I only just arrived on the Isle, and my uncle said there were children near-about, so I went off to explore.”

“Alone?”

As if on cue, a pair of voices called out her name. Ben begrudgingly sat his book down and stood. Two more children approached—the Cuvilyé girl who lived at the bottom of the hill and a thin boy.

The girl shrieked, “Remi! I’m going to tell Maman you ran off!”

“Oh no,” Remi muttered, turning back to face Ben. “My Tante Beline is dreadful.”

If she meant Beline Cuvilyé, then he understood immediately. Elise stomped down the rickety steps, the boy following close behind. Ben watched them as Remi left him to greet them.

“You can’t wander off alone!” the dark-haired girl said.

“I’m sorry, Elise,” Remi said sheepishly. “I had a magnificent time exploring, though. You see, I walked all this way by following the sound of the water and came to this beach. I stumbled upon this boy, and he told me that he knew every bug on the island just from reading a book! Isn’t that fascinating?”