Serenica opened up her left hand, still curled up tightly in a fist as if she had been suffering from a seizure of some kind.
She found the ring in there, dainty and far too small for the finger of most grown men.
Something told her she was not supposed to use it just yet.
The memories of the ferryman's words came crashing into her groggy brain.
"What did he say?" Myorka asked eagerly, leaning over the table. "What secrets did we gain?"
"Nothing yet," Serenica said, averting her gaze. "We need to…"
It was too soon, too fast, but the widow still pressed the matter. She crossed her arms, made herself look more threatening, and huffed through her tears.
"I have a right to know. He is my husband, in this life and the next one, his death had to have some meaning. Or else, I am not letting go of him at all."
Serenica sighed and looked towards the ceiling.
