“As the wind sent her essence whisking into the air in shimmering, golden threads, her delicate fingers lifted to touch the glowing object. It hovered before her eyes, a misshapen chunk that mirrored the piece of her soul that had been long ago snatched away. It was too much. She could allow herself to dare to hope that it had somehow found its way back to her. And yet . . . it felt so familiar. Like a whisper remembered from childhood.” – Emily Kinney