It was all for you.

The sky was a dull gray when the train arrived at the station in Maine. The rain came down in a damp mist as we walked to the parking lot, where a line of black taxis was waiting. The driver of the first rolled down his window.

“Attica Falls,” I said, and climbed into the backseat. The seats were made of cheap upholstery and the windows were tinted, which colored the snowy landscape outside in sepia, as if we were traveling through an old photograph. And in a way, I was.

Attica Falls looked exactly the same as it had last year, the potholed roads lined with dilapidated houses and little shops that might have been cute fifty years ago, but now just looked dreary. The snow flanking the street was dirty, and the stores all looked closed, save for Beatrice’s and a souvenir shop. As we passed the boarding house where Dante used to live, I closed my eyes, trying to see if I could sense him, but I couldn’t feel anything.

When I opened my eyes, we were almost all the way through Attica Falls. I saw an old man carrying a bag of ice from the gas station to his truck. He watched us as we passed, black water splashing onto the windows of the truck as we rounded the bend to the main entrance of Gottfried Academy.

I was suddenly overwhelmed with the vacant feeling of the Undead. A plastic bag kicked around the street in front of us and then floated up into the sky. At my direction, the driver pressed on, dropping us at a snowy field at the edge of town.

Slinging my shovel over my shoulder, I led Noah to the well shaded by crab apple trees in the back of the field. The same place Dante had taken me last winter.

“What is this?” Noah said as I brushed the snow off the cover of the well. The air inside groaned as I lifted it off, letting out a burst of warmth.

“Maine has a tunnel system, too,” I said, and lowered myself into the earth.

I led Noah through the tunnel, my muscles remembering the turns as if I had just woken up from spending the night with Dante and was running back to the girls’ dormitory to shower before class. We surfaced in the chapel, behind a corroded vent. Everything was still, the light filtering through the rose-colored windows like a kaleidoscope.

“No one can see us,” I said as we crept through the pews. We pushed with all our weight against the chapel doors until they opened against the wind.

The rain was a cold mist when we stepped outside. A few feet away from us, a man in coveralls was chopping the trunk of a tree into pieces and throwing it into some sort of furnace. Noah and I both froze, thinking we were revealed, but he just tipped his cap and kept working. He must have thought we were students. Giving him a slight wave, we walked off, keeping within the shadows of the buildings. But as I gazed around at the campus I thought I knew, my pace slowed.

Everything looked the same, yet wholly different, like a piece of fruit that had become rotten from the inside out. The green was covered with ice and slush. In the middle, where the great oak used to be, now stood a pathetic skeleton of a tree. All of the branches on its right side had been amputated. In fact, most of the trees that used to line the walking paths had now been cut down, leaving severed stumps peeking out of the snow like headstones.

“What happened?” I said, and glanced at the stump beside us, which was tied with a tag. beetle pesticide, it said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Noah said. “Come on.”

It’s amazing how quickly some things return to you. As I ran across the snowy green to the lake, the sun a glazed red over the trees, it almost felt like I had traveled back in time to last winter. I stopped in front of the dismembered oak, breathing in the cold air and imagining that I was running back to the dorm after meeting Dante. What version of the past was that? Had I known then that Dante was Undead? That I was a Monitor? That we had the same soul?

Dusk fell over the trees as Noah and I ran toward the lake. It was completely frozen over, my feet slipping beneath me as I slid across its bumpy surface. I stared down at the striations in the ice, which looked like thick blue ribbon candy, but I couldn’t see to the water below. I didn’t know what I was looking for; I could only hope that I would feel it.

I had almost made it to the statue of the bear on the other side of the lake when I heard a soft crack. I wasn’t even sure I’d heard it; it could have been a tree creaking or a window closing in the distance. So I pressed on, my breath coming out in quick, shallow clouds, until something beneath me quivered. And before I could move, before I could even take one last breath, the ice broke.

Just before I could fall in, Noah grabbed my waist and pulled me to the shore, where I landed beside him on the crest where the snow met the ice. Lying back in the snow, I stared at the gray sky and was about to say thank you, when I felt it. A tug so slight it could have been nothing; except it wasn’t. I had felt it once before, during my placement exam.

Digging his heels into the snow, Noah stood up, but I didn’t move. Instead, I closed my eyes and let the thread of air wrap itself around me, leading me down, down into the depths of the lake.

Suddenly I knew what to do. I threw down my bag. Sitting up, I unbuttoned my coat and pulled it off.

“What are you doing?” Noah said as I approached the hole in the ice.

“It’s down there. I can feel it,” I said, taking off my scarf. “About ten feet below, a little to the left.”

“You can’t go in there,” Noah said. “It’s too cold. You could die.”

“How else are we going to get it?” Turning from him, I stepped off the shore and onto the ice. The hole was a few feet away. “Besides,” I said, trying to control the shiver in my voice, “it’s in the shallows. It won’t be that bad,” I said, my words turning to fog in the winter air.

“Renée, let me go first,” Noah said from behind me. And before I could stop him, he threw off his coat and blazer and strode past me onto the ice.

“Wait!” I said, trying to stop him, but he had already reached the edge of the hole. And glancing at me over his shoulder, he jumped in. He broke the water with a gasp, and, his arms thrashing once against the ice, he sank into the water below.

“Noah?” I said, searching for any sign of him. “Noah?” I shouted again, and leaned over the hole and reached my hand in. The sharp pain of the cold shot through my fingers, making them numb. I gasped and pulled it back.

It had been almost a full minute. I was about to dive in after Noah when he burst through the dark surface of the water. He grasped at the edge of the ice, but it crumbled under his hands. Relieved that I hadn’t followed him underwater, I grabbed his arms and pulled.

“Help me!” I said, but his body had already grown stiff. His shirt was hardening around him. “Please, Noah. Help me.”

From somewhere beneath his clothes, I felt the muscles stir within him. I heard his legs kick in the water, pushing against the ice. Using all my strength, I heaved, dragging him out of the lake and onto the snow.

I rolled him over, rubbing his face to warm it, when I noticed that he was clutching a small iron box to his chest, its sides held shut with clasps, its lid engraved with the worn crest of a canary.

“You found it,” I said, wrapping his blazer and coat around him. His hair was hard with ice. “You actually found it.”

Noah gave me a weak smile, which deteriorated into a shudder. His face was losing its color, and his lips were turning blue. Without thinking, I leaned over and kissed him.

When I pulled away, he gave me a sad grin. “I like this.”

I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Okay,” I said, taking his hand. “Do you think you can walk?”

He gave me what I thought was a nod and put his arm around my neck.

“Where are we going?” he said, as I crouched low. Once I was sure the path was empty, I led him across the green.

“Inside, so you can warm up.”

The closest building was Horace Hall, which would be empty now that classes were over for the day. Taking a chance, I walked toward it, Noah leaning on my side. We were almost at the entrance when I froze. The doors of the building opened and my grandfather stormed out, tapping his shovel beside him like a cane. His white hair was thin and matted to the sides of his head in the misty air. Thinking quickly, I pulled Noah to the ground behind a pile of snow. We waited, and when the doors to Horace Hall swung closed behind my grandfather, I helped Noah up and walked him inside.

The foyer was dark, the windows shaded by thick blue curtains. Beneath them, the radiators crackled with heat, the red carpet plush beneath my shoes as I set Noah down, holding his hand against the small of my back to make it thaw. Noah closed his eyes as his muscles relaxed. From the upstairs balcony, a pendulum clock chimed seven. Its low, lethargic sound reminded me of my grandfather’s house in Massachusetts.

With a groan, Noah hoisted himself up.

“No,” I said. “Rest.”

But he shook his head and held up the box from the lake floor. “Open it.”

I hesitated.

“Go on,” he said, thrusting it into my hands. It was surprisingly heavy, its dark metal carved with ornate shapes that covered its sides. Engraved on the top was the crest of a canary. I traced the wings of the bird, which were still lined with mud. Jiggling the clasps loose of the dirt and rust, I slid them down and opened it.

The inside of the chest was perfectly dry. Pinned to the inside of the lid was a preserved canary, its pale yellow wings spread open as if it were in flight. Only then did I realize what the riddle had been referring to. The best of our kind. Only the best Monitor could sense a canary, especially one submerged in water.

Beneath the canary was a smaller metal case, etched with a strange shape that almost looked like the outline of the canary with its wings spread. Drawn across it were dozens of lines and dots and triangles, swirling together to form a landscape. Carved in the center was the following phrase: Pour l’amour vrai.

“For true love,” I whispered, finally understanding why Ophelia had decided to defy the pact her Sisters had made to let the secret die with them. She had been in love, just like me. Like Dante, she wasn’t ready to die. Picking up the small box, I tried to lift its lid, but couldn’t.