Chapter 1: The Forgotten Grave

The skeleton had been pinned beneath the Iron Cross Pendant for thirteen years. Some said the pendant was forged from the shackles of a witch hanged in Amarillo, meant to keep angry souls from ever finding peace. My soul, bored beyond endurance, was fading—almost ready to give up.

A wind dry as old bones carried the sharp tang of weeds and the ghost of gasoline, like the backroads outside Amarillo. Out here, in this forgotten patch of land just a mile from the old railroad crossing, I’d spent years just waiting, flickering in and out of my own memories.

That’s when I met the real daughter, cast out from the Montgomery family’s estate.

She lay on top of my skeleton, tears streaming down her face. Her sobs shook the wild grass, and for the first time in years, I felt the weight of someone else’s heartbreak pressing against my bones:

"You wanna die, and I just want to live. What if we traded places?"