“Oh, oh, Harrow, are you all right?” Ingress wraps an arm around the younger woman’s waist, supporting her.

“I’m so sorry. Did you see something terrible? Those things happened so long ago, it’s only ever recent memories. Usually.”

It would make sense, she supposes, if someone like Harrow glimpsed the murders of her family instead of the more mundane and pleasant memories that most guests encounter.