Derek''s fingers danced over the pages, his eyes scanning the text and illustrations with growing intensity.


    "Look at this," he said, pointing to a drawing of a glowing crystal nestled within a hand, surrounded by intricate patterns. "This might be what we need."


    Annie leaned in closer, her heart racing. The crystal shimmered on the page, almost alive in its depiction.


    "What do you think it means?" Jess asked, biting her lip.


    "It looks to me to be part of some sort of ritual," Derek replied. "We''ll need to recreate it."


    Annie peered around the cluttered room. Shadows stretched across the floor from the flickering fluorescent lights above. A sense of urgency crept into her bones when she imagined Robert lying helpless in that hospital bed.


    "Let''s find those things first," Annie said, her voice even though she felt pandemonium in her head.


    Derek nodded. Determination stiffened his face as he dove back into the book, flipping from page to page in the hope of garnering any clues as to where to go from here.


    Annie stepped backward, weighed down by the magnitude of what everyone was expecting them to do. "What about water? Where is a river under this city?


    "There are tunnels beneath us," Jess piped up, remembering tales of how there had been waterways running underneath their very town.


    "Great," Derek said without even looking up. "Still, we would have to think of some way to find the hair of some person. someone who has died."


    Annie''s chest ached at that. She suddenly remembered Robert''s smiles and the way he would laugh, like music in her ears.


    Maybe we could go to the old cemetery?" Jess suggested carefully. "People often leave mementos at gravesites."


    Derek''s eyes lit up as he turned another page in the book and pointed again at an illustration—a dark grave with flowers and tokens left behind by mourners.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "That could work," he agreed, then glanced toward Annie. "What do you think?"


    Annie hesitated but nodded slowly. It was an idea wrapped in sorrow but also necessity.


    "I''ll go," she replied resolutely. "If I can find something that belonged to someone who loved him…"


    Derek smiled, almost impressed with her drive.


    The old man stood silent near the door, his eyes reflecting a hint of approval as he watched them exchange.


    "Time is not on your side," he whispered while they prepared to leave.


    "Then let''s move." Annie took a deep breath and stepped out into the dimly lit corridor, ready to face whatever awaited them beyond those walls.


    Annie stepped out into the chilly evening air, the scent of damp earth filling her lungs. The city buzzed around her, oblivious to the urgency pulsing in her veins. Beside her, Jess fidgeted with her coat, glancing at the gathering clouds that threatened rain.


    Do you really think this will work?" Jess asked, a trace of doubt lacing her voice.


    Annie brushed it aside. "We have to try. It''s all we''ve got."


    They walked quickly toward the old cemetery, each step heavy with anticipation and dread. The streetlights flickered overhead as they approached the wrought-iron gates, their intricate designs casting twisted shadows on the pavement.


    Derek shoved the gate open; the groaning echoed in the stillness of twilight. "Stick together," he instructed, scanning the ranks of headstones that stood as sentinels against the dying light.


    Annie nodded and took the lead into the maze of graves. Each marker told a story—some worn by weather and crumbling, others fresh and with flowers on them. The moon broke through the clouds, casting light upon a path as they made their way deeper into the heart of the cemetery.


    "There." Derek pointed to an overgrown area where wildflowers spilled over a neglected grave. "That looks promising."


    Annie dropped down beside it, peeling away weeds to show a name barely legible beneath the moss and dirt of years: Clara Thompson. She reached to touch a delicate porcelain figurine at its base—a small winged angel.


    "Think it''s from Clara?" Jess whispered, darting her gaze about.


    "Could be," she replied, gently lifting the angel in her palm as it coolly felt its surface there. "It is something at least."


    Derek huddled deeper and drew from inside his bag a small glass vial. "We need hair, too," he whispered to remind them.


    Annie half turned, then turned back toward Clara''s grave, hesitation piling on. "I don''t know that I can take anything else."


    "Just hair," Derek urged. "It will help us connect with whatever it is we''re doing."


    Jess shifted uncomfortably but didn''t argue anymore. Annie took a deep breath and carefully pulled out a few strands from underneath an old flower arrangement that lay nearby—an offering from someone who had loved Clara long ago.


    "This feels wrong," Jess muttered under her breath.


    "It''s necessary." Annie straightened up once more and tucked the hair into Derek''s vial before they turned their attention back to Clara''s figurine.


    The air thickened as they gathered their things and prepared to leave this quiet resting place behind; a moment hung in the balance between hope and despair.