“Very well,” the voice said. “Speak if you wish for me. I will hear you.” And it was gone. Olivia turned around, as if to glare at the one she knew would be standing over her shoulder—but there was no one there. Even the frozen copies of herself were gone, and the eerie sight of her still-steaming skeleton. I wonder if this is how it is for everyone. An insistent, annoying voice tormenting them for all eternity with what they can’t have.