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That was the voice of a child.

A child’s roof had collapsed on top of them because of my brother. And then he left. He ran back home to give Véa a sob story. Heleft a child buried alive.

“What’s your name, mil?” Anise asked.

“May,” she said.

“What about your brother?” I asked, lifting more wood and tossing it to the side.

“Sabaoth,” she said. “He stopped crying a while ago. I… I…”

“He’s alive,” I said. “I feel his soul. He’s alive.”

“Really?” Her voice rang out with hope. “He’ll be alright?”

I didn’t know. I hadn’t seen him yet. All I saw was soot and mud and wood. “Is he hurt?”

“I-I don’t think so,” she said. “It-it was the strangest thing.” The more she talked, the better estimate I got of her age. Her voice reminded me of Mirobhail, so I guessed somewhere around ten. “We were just sitting down for supper, and… and then there was lightning. It was everywhere. The whole house turned bright. It hurt my eyes. And then the roof just…”

“Don’t you worry about that just now, love,” Sanvi said. “You can tell us all about it once we get you and your brother some help.”

“Alright,” she said, voice beginning to shake. “Sir?”

“Call me Nix.” I nodded to Anise, pointing to the other end of the massive board. She hurried around the piece she was holding, grabbed the other side, and we lifted.

“Nix, then,” she said. “You can see our souls?”

“I can.” With Anise, we struggled the massive log to waist height and walked it sideways, away from the rubble.

“Can you see my mum’s?” she asked. “Or my pa’s?”

Those eight words slammed through my gut like the nastiest punch I’d ever taken.

Sanvi seemed to notice that as she tossed a rock into the distance. “What’s your favorite color, love?”

“What?”

“You don’t have a favorite color?” she asked. “Everyone has a favorite color. Mine’s yellow. But sometimes, it’s pink. I just love pink.”

“Oh,” the girl said, voice a mumble, but louder than her shouts had been. We were getting closer. “I like green.”

“You do?” Sanvi asked. “That’s funny, you know. My son’s eyes are green.”

“Really? I’ve never met someone with green eyes.”

“No?” Sanvi asked, keeping the conversation going as we dug. “What color are your eyes?”

“Mine are brown. Mum’s are blue, and Pa’s are brown. Sabaoth’s are blue though. I—” She gasped when we yanked the last piece of wood off.

And there she sat. A little blond girl, roughly the same age as my oldest son. She was dusted in dirt and debris, but otherwise, looked well. From where I stood, no blood was visible.

The baby in her arms, however…

No blood, but his breathing was labored.

“There we are.” Sanvi smiled down at her. “Can you stand up and hand me the baby, love? I’ll help you out next.”

She didn’t move. She just stared up at us, eyes wide.