She had come home, determined to confront her sister and get to the bottom of it. Grieving was all fine and good, but whatever Amelia had been doing was simply wrong and unhealthy. However, as soon as she opened the door, she knew something was off. Everything was far too still, as if the very air itself was afraid to be moved by so much as an errant gust of wind. A palpable malevolence hung on the air that pressed down upon her, not unlike the oppressive humidity found in summer after a thunderstorm but without the physical source to justify it.