(GILBERT'S POV)
I followed Jasper, my eyes darting nervously from object to object as we made our way through the house. Everywhere I looked, there was something new and impossible—a compass that spun wildly on a shelf, a key that seemed to float just above its hook.
And then we reached the kitchen.
I stopped dead in the doorway, my brain struggling to process what I was seeing.
The kitchen was large and warm, filled with the scent of herbs and something savory simmering on the stove. Copper pots hung from the ceiling, and a fire crackled cheerfully in a stone hearth. It should have been cozy. Normal. A welcome reprieve from the chaos of the rest of the house.
But it wasn't the kitchen itself that made me freeze.
It was what stood in the corner.
