Once, Oska had known his grandmother’s house like the back of his hand. Blackthorn Manor was an imposing edifice in southern Queensdale, but it was also relatively secluded; visitors to Claypool often never realised it was nearby. It had been the perfect summer retreat for rowdy Valpari children and their frazzled parents, which meant Oska could remember sun-baked days running across the lawns and swimming in the lake. It had seemed idyllic.