Jeremy felt them before they appeared, figures of every shape and size walking out of the trees toward them. As they approached, he saw a mix of ghosts and Folk next to each other. Many of the spirits wore antique uniforms. This must be the right place, he thought.

“I see you,” Jeremy said.

“And you,” a small yellow creature with flopping ears and a bulbous nose said, staring up at him curiously.

“I’m looking for Logan,” he said.

“I know,” a young man said, stepping forward. A few days ago, Jeremy would have winced at the sight of this man’s shredded face and ruined arm, but now, he took it in stride, noting the hundred-year-old U.S. Army uniform. “She said you might come.”

Adelia’s last memory of him sprang to Jeremy’s mind. His last smile before the mortar took him away. He flinched.

“It’s not painful anymore,” Logan said. “But it took years to realize it.” He lifted a hand toward the angry red gouges in his cheek but stopped short of touching them.

“It’s not that, I…I have her memories. I see moments from her past.”

“I didn’t know she could share those,” Logan said, studying Jeremy’s face, searching for something.

Jeremy kept his gaze level, staring into the ghost’s blood-filled left eye and icy blue right without looking away. Was Logan jealous? Would I be, he thought, if I were in his place? “I don’t think she did either. It was a desperate move.”

“You’re a seer like I am…was.”

“I have to find her before she reaches Nick.”

“How do you have Folk power?”

“I think my amulet channeled it, or I channeled it from it. I’m not sure. It’s a powerful artifact.”

“May I?” Logan stepped closer to Jeremy as the Folk around them silently watched. Hope and Del stirred on his shoulders. He considered the young ghost for a moment, sensing Adelia’s affection through her memories, her trust. He reached into his shirt and pulled it out.

Logan peered at it closely. “That’s not an artifact.”

“It is. Zitkala Sa, Frank, and Adelia said it was. Adelia said it would protect me.”

Logan smirked. “She did the same to me. Wanted to build my confidence as a seer. It wasn’t an amulet for me, though. It was a book I found in the St. Frances library.” His eyes were kind, and Jeremy understood Adelia’s affection even more.

“But why would they all tell me it was? I used it to travel through the bridge and defeated Crag with it—”

“Most artifacts are what we make them. They’re what we put our energy into, our belief, not some leftover emotion fused by humans when they die. An artifact left by humans is like a gun with ammo. We can make it serve a purpose, but it doesn’t have any meaning for the user. The most powerful artifacts are the ones we create for ourselves. The ones that mean something to us. Maybe they knew you needed something to believe in.”

Jeremy stared down at the amulet in his hand. The bear seemed to have a sly smile now. His imagination, he knew, but still. He looked back into Logan’s ruined face.

“You took in Folk power. I don’t know what that makes you now,” Logan said.

Jeremy flipped the amulet over to the snake and rubbed his thumb across its curling form. Wisdom, they had said, insight that comes from being close to the earth. “Maybe we don’t need a name for it.”

“Maybe not,” Logan said.

“Did you give her the gold piece?”

“For years, I wondered why she never came for it. Never came to find me. Surely she knew I still had a piece. And with it, I would not be able to leave this world. That’s how their gold works, you know. It traps them and us.”

“Oh, I know.” Jeremy shuddered. “At least you’re not a zombie.”

“A what?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jeremy said. “She was trapped and couldn’t travel unless someone carried the gold bag. She can’t carry it for herself even when she is at full power, but when some of the pieces are missing she’s week. She can’t even manifest completely into the world. Can’t show herself to others. But seers, we have—”

“Oh, I know what we have.” Logan narrowed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. An old habit from when he still breathed. “She cares for you, you know.”

“I know.”

“I mean, really cares. She won’t tell you. You’re human, and she won’t do that again. Not after me.”

Jeremy turned his gaze to the field and away from the knot twisting in his stomach. His affection for Adelia was threaded with anxiety and fear, a host of new feelings he’d never experienced. A growing need to be near her. He took his own deep breath as he watched the early morning light touch the grass, and for a split second, the Battle of Verdun sprang to life before him. Lush grass was replaced by a charred landscape pockmarked with mortar holes, bodies, and barbed wires. When he blinked, it was gone; in its place, the meadow rolled out in front of him once again, blood and gore replaced by orange and red autumn leaves. Indentations in the land gave the only sign of the forgotten mortars that once rained down horror in this peaceful place.

“I can’t see beyond St. Frances and the knights in her memories,” Jeremy said, closing his eyes.

“I don’t think she can remember much either, but there is something before St. Frances, I know it. She won’t say, but I know she suspects it. There’s more to her than we know.”

“More than she knows,” Jeremy said.

“You better not waste any more time. I gave her the last piece. And now I’ve met you.” He looked out across the field. “My battle ended a long time ago. It’s time to rest.”

“Good journey, Logan.” Adelia’s words slipped out of his memory and into his mouth.

Logan nodded and turned away, walking into the forest without looking back.