Gemotions

The cold marble of the tomb felt unforgiving beneath Clara's fingertips. Her brother, Ethan, chattered incessantly about the family mausoleum, the history, the prestige. Clara felt a strange, hollow sensation in her chest. Their grandmother had left them each a key.

Ethan, with a flourish, produced his key, a gleaming silver thing. Clara looked down at her own key. It was tarnished, almost black with age. It felt heavy in her hand, and the knowledge of what she’d find when she used it weighed her down.

"Ready to see your inheritance, Clara?" Ethan asked, his voice echoing in the stone chamber. Her breath hitched. She found the key difficult to hold.