A lantern's light flew across the trees as the man carried his soul in the fragile glass, knowing he could not help now, that he could not be seen. He saw his old room, and felt the sorrow pierce his heart like an assassin's bittersweet dagger, reminding him of how he drifted between life and death continuously.

He had just wanted happiness to follow in his passing, not the sadness that he had come to learn well. He had loved his wife, but she was incapable of loving one little girl. It was heart breaking even if blood no longer kept his heart going.

He raised his eyes to the room once more, where his niece was, where her fear suddenly sparked.

Jane.