84

Camille.

The house is beautifully decorated with a look of an old world meeting the modern, but nothing is coming to me. We head upstairs and look around the rooms before then we go back downstairs doing the same thing.

Other than feeling like I should kick my shoes off, light up the fireplace, and relax in front of it with a steaming mug of something hot, I feel nothing more than that sensation of familiarity.

Alessio opens the back door, and we go outside, heading toward the lake.

When I look toward the wood, something catches my attention and I stop. It's two twisted-looking oak trees standing opposite each other. Thick vines wrap around the branches, which grow high and wide like they're reaching for the sky.

I turn, and so does Alessio.

"What is it?" he asks.

"There." I point. "There's something about those trees."

I'm walking toward them before he answers. He follows, falling in step with me.

The closer I get, the stranger I feel. No longer feeling that sense of familiarity, but