"Em . . . Hey, Emery!" a voice called her, seemingly far away.

Something weighed on her shoulder before it shook her. The movement slowly pulled her out of her unconscious state until her eyelids fluttered open.

The first thing her eyes met were sheets of paper and manila folders scattered over rich, mahogany wood. Soft, yellow lighting filled the room. The darkness of the cellar was gone.

She groggily peeled her cheek off the table. Her skin tingled from being pressed against the wood for too long. When she realized she was seated back in the library, she furrowed her brow and glanced all around her. Her bag lay unmoved by her desk, its zippers unopened. Then, she looked at the hand on her shoulder, following it up to meet Seth's worried blue eyes.

"Em, are you okay? Your cellphone was off and I— You must've been so tired to just fall asleep here," Seth said, running a hand through her hair.

The events of the cellar flashed in her head. In a frenzy, Emery pushed herself up and away from the table, grabbing her bag, and running to the cellar door. Her legs, still half-asleep, stumbled along the way. "What time is it?" Emery yelled over her shoulder, while Seth followed close behind.

"It's 10:30. Slow down! Where are you going?" Seth hurried his pace to try and grab her arm, but she ducked away quickly.

If it was 10:30pm, that meant it'd been two hours since she'd gone to the cellar. Two hours since that music box had revealed everything to her about the day her grandfather died. Or murdered, she should say.

There was still so much she didn't understand, but now that she knew what was down there, she could find all the answers! Emery tried pulling on the door's handle, but once again it was locked. She shrugged off her bag and searched for her lockpick once more. "You won't believe what I found. There are secret pathways in the basement," she rambled, jamming the thin metal pick into the keyhole. Her hands expertly shifted around the handle, unlocking it with ease.

"What? I thought you said you weren't supposed to go down there," he pointed out, casting nervous looks everywhere as she unlocked the door. "Isn't this breaking and entering?"

"Don't—" She sighed, placing the lockpick back in her bag. Well, he sort of had a point . . . but, he wasn't paying attention to what was important. She had a lead! A big lead!

"Just focus on the big picture," she told him, throwing the door open and running down the stairs. Her hands found the light switch without the need of her flashlight. Just like she remembered, the file cabinets were grouped in rows, leading to the far wall, where the light didn't reach. Her brown eyes scanned the room, before hurrying in the direction of the door. Everything was just as she remembered.

Seth's footsteps slowly and hesitantly followed her.

"There's a huge door leading to this room—"

"Emery."

The pity in his tone annoyed her. So, she threw back a sharp glare and quickened her pace as she reached for the flashlight in her bag. Now close to the brick wall, she clicked it on, letting its light spill over the dark.

"W-Where," she gasped. Her light shined from one corner of the wall to the other, but there was nothing but solid brick. The door had disappeared. Her hand reached out to feel the rough, cool stone. She pushed hard against every brick, trying to see if it was hidden by some kind of secret switch.

"Where's this door?" Seth stared at her, his brow wrinkled as he observed an empty wall.

Getting anxious, she began to kick on the bricks. She even tried pressing her ear onto the wall and knocking to see if it was hollow inside, but it was far too thick for that. "It— It was right here. A big wooden door." Her fingers traced the outline of where it was supposed to be. Its image was so clear in her head, how could it not be here?

"Em, you're tired. Maybe we should go h—"

"No," she said, while she stared at a big heap of nothing. "There was a room. There were weapons and swords on the walls. The symbol I'd drawn was all over the place. A— And there was a music box and a golden key that played a song. There was a glow too, but the glow happened in the memory, not in real life."

"Memory?"

"Yes! Because I got my memory back! Of the day of the fire. It wasn't an accident. Lila! Sheriff Lila was there too, and—" she stopped herself when she turned around and saw Seth's expression.

His gaze wasn't worried anymore; there was fear there. It was unclear if he was scared for her or because of her, but his blue eyes were wide in terror.

Emery's bottom lip started trembling. Even Seth thought she was crazy now. The air felt heavy. Her throat closed up and her eyes stung terribly. She hated crying, but between discovering her grandfather had been killed, and not having any proof, she was overwhelmed.

"I know how it sounds, okay? I know! But it happened. I know it was real, even if I can't prove it."

Seth did nothing but stand and move his eyes toward the wall and back at her. His mouth opened, then shut again. For the first time in the two years they'd been together, she couldn't guess what he was thinking.

"Seth?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Just give me a second." This time he looked to the floor and crossed his arms, his lips turning into a frown. Emery's heart shattered with the passing seconds. She felt him get farther and farther away with each unuttered thought. Her eyes watered. If he didn't believe her, who would?

Seth finally reacted, taking a few steps toward her to embrace her. "It'll be okay. You haven't been sleeping well. It was probably a vivid dream. That's all."

Emery furrowed her brows in frustration. It wasn't a dream. She remembered the cellar. The light switch, the brick wall, the metal file cabinets. She could only remember them if she'd been here before. It was not a dream.

"No. . . ."

"It'll be okay after a good night's sleep. Let's go home," he told her, sliding his hand to the small of her back to lead her back upstairs. Emery kept glancing back at that dark wall, hoping the door would reappear, but it never did. The brick faded out of view, and with it, another sliver of hope disappeared.

⤝◈◈◈◈◈⤞

"Emery, you kept us worried sick!" Mrs. Baker exclaimed as soon as she placed a foot in her home. The old woman threw two pairs of fleece blankets over her shoulders before pulling her into a warm hug.

"Sorry."

"She fell asleep." Seth kept his gaze to the floor. "You should go up and rest."

"Yes, of course! I'll bring you up a cup of water," Mrs. Baker said before retreating toward the kitchen.

Seth stayed behind, turning to Emery to tug the blankets tighter around her. His expression was something she couldn't quite place. "You need to stop overworking yourself. If you keep this up— Emery, you . . ." the words died on his lips as he pinched them together in a frown.

The fear had disappeared from his eyes, replaced with a familiar softness. His hands moved up to cup her face, delicately rubbing his thumb across her cheek. He bent down hesitantly, almost afraid of how she'd react. Little did he know that she couldn't move even if she tried. It was at moments like these—when she felt so absolutely loved—that his touch paralyzed her.

She met him halfway, pressing her lips against his. Seth breathed in deeply lowering his hands to her waist to drag her closer to him. She savored in the safe feeling of his gentle kiss, realizing that in the midst of fire investigations and death, she had missed the comfort he gave.

He pulled away sooner than she wanted him to, wrapping the cozy blankets snuggly across her figure once more. His gaze no longer met hers. Seth just stared down, seemingly in deep thought. "Get some rest, okay?" he reminded her one last time, before turning around toward the kitchen. Her gaze followed him until he walked behind a tall cupboard of china and out of her sight.

With him gone, her thoughts raced once more.

Theories and notions saturated her mind until her head felt heavy. She replayed the events of the cellar again and again. What she saw was real, though she couldn't explain how an entire tunnel system and ancient door had disappeared into thin air. Maybe something had hidden the entrance; maybe she had to go at a certain time, or maybe it was the fact that Seth was there. Regardless of the reason, she was sure that the secret basement room existed, she just had to find a way to make it appear again.

Then, she remembered.

Lila! She was there! The sheriff was just a brief and hazy memory, but Emery was sure she was there on the day Grandpa Joey was murdered. If anyone could help, it'd be her.

As Emery was about to retreat to her room, the sound of whispers broke through the silent night. Her feet stepped cautiously toward their source—the kitchen. Making sure she didn't make a single noise, she pressed her body against the adjacent wall and listened in. From where she stood, she could see two distorted reflections on the silver refrigerator. Seth and Mrs. Baker sat at the dinner table across from each other.

"I think it's time we go back home," Seth told her.

Emery flinched. They couldn't go home now! There was still so much she needed to do! This was only the start.

"Oh, but she seems so determined," Mrs. Baker said.

"This trip is doing more harm than good. She's not sleeping. She's spending all her time thinking about these deaths and then tonight, she—" Seth stopped, letting go of a frustrated sigh. "She's not herself. I think we should go. Maybe see a doctor or. . . ."

A scowl slipped into her features. She couldn't bring herself to hear any more of the conversation, so she pushed herself away from the wall and snuck back to the stairs to her room.

Emery had never felt such a sense of commitment and determination toward something as she did now. This trip was no longer about guaranteeing her job. It was about bringing justice to what the people had left buried. She'd find out how her grandparents died and bring justice to all the people who died in the fires.

Even if she had to do it alone.

⤝◈◈◈◈◈⤞

The next day, the sun peeked over the Bellenau mountains, shining brightly through Emery's window, but it hardly disturbed her slumber. Her eyes remained shut, in a serene, dreamless sleep, where not even the summer heat or the sound of her alarm waked her. Thirsty for rest, her body had shut down, refusing to get up until it was well and ready.

After hours and hours, she finally stirred in the mid-morning. She took a sight of her ghastly, tired reflection on the tall mirror in the corner of the room and cringed. Last night was rough, but she had to get ready to go to the library again today. She hoped to convince Mrs. Baker to let her go earlier so she could speak to Sheriff Lila.

Emery lazily reached for her wristwatch on the night table and tied it on her wrist in a half-asleep haze. A panicked shriek escaped her when she looked at the time.

"Shit, 1:30?!" she exclaimed, followed by a string of loud curses. She was supposed to be opening up the library at 7:00am, why hadn't anybody woken her? In an effort to make up for lost time, she hastily slipped out of her night shirt and grabbed any garment she saw. She ended up with two mismatched socks, her shirt on backward and pants unbuttoned, but she decided she'd fix them later.

While she tied her boot's laces, her head snapped side to side in search of her phone. It wasn't on the end table, or the vanity, or under the bed. She was sure she'd used it just before going to sleep. Where was it?

Hair frazzled and face swollen, she grabbed her bag and spilled its contents over the white sheets of the bed. An arsenal of tools piled out. Then, something square popped out. Its goldish-brown tint was unmistakable as it hit the bed and bounced off to the floor, with a wooden crash.

It can't be.

Emery turned around slowly, her brown eyes shimmering with excitement.

Just a few feet away was her proof: the music box.