Where the Dead Keep Watch

Previously

…A single, spectral tear, colder than ice, seemed to fall upon her hand. It was not a tear of anger, but of profound weariness, of an ancient, unbroken sorrow. It was a silent acknowledgment of her burgeoning understanding, a confirmation of her connection to this spectral guardian. The weight of it settled upon her, a mantle of responsibility that felt both terrifying and strangely comforting. She was no longer just Eleanor Vance, inheritor of a haunted house. She was now, in some inexplicable way, a part of the Watcher’s vigil. The pact had found its new keeper. And the Watcher, in its silent, sorrowful way, had finally been seen.