Acknowledgments - Where Light Cannot Follow

First and foremost, thank you to every reader who purchased or borrowed a copy of this book. By doing so, you not only help stories like this bloom in the often rocky soil of publishing, but you also support an indie author and an entire community of independent artists, editors, and talented professionals whose names appear below. As you read them, know that your support helps sustain their work, their art, and their careers.

To Milly, my editor, who has never shied away from a project, no matter how heavy the themes—or how far down a research rabbit hole I send you. From Sumerian myths to the geography of hell (literally), you have been the kind of thoughtful collaborator and fearless editor every writer dreams of. I even used a line you wrote in the edits for this book, so thank you for your direct contribution to its pages.

To Maciek, who provided sensitivity reading for this story—thank you for your thoughtful analysis of Dante and Virgil’s experiences and backgrounds, and for helping ensure their perspectives felt authentic. Your feedback strengthened the story in countless ways, and I’m grateful not only for your insight but also for the many small improvements you made along the way.

To Megan, my eagle-eyed proofreader: I apologize for the grammatical chaos I regularly send your way. Thank you for patiently cleaning up my gremlin-like attempts at sentences and helping these books reach a truly publishable level. Your careful attention to detail is invaluable.

To my mentor and friend S., thank you for the lessons and techniques that have taught me more about sentence-level writing in the past two years than I learned in the previous ten. And I’m sorry I still use too many ellipses and em dashes. My ADHD brain thinks in nested thoughts, but I swear I’m trying to break the habit.

To Paul, who designed the beautiful cover for this book: thank you for lending your talent to this project. I will never forget the first time I saw the final design and knew immediately it was the perfect cover for this story.

To the audiobook producer and narrator for this book, Jonathan and Leo—thank you for bringing your incredible talents to this project. I’m thrilled the story is in such capable hands, and I can’t wait for listeners to experience it through your work.

To my husband: to quote a line from this book (which I realize is a slightly ridiculous thing to do, but you’ve loved me long enough to expect that sort of thing): I’m in love with someone I’ve been with long enough to build a life. Someone I do the routine and mundane tasks alongside… and I’m still in love with you like it’s the first morning and the thousandth all at once. Thank you for your unwavering support, love, and friendship. And I’m sorry if I poked a little fun at business majors through the character of Dante. It was done with love, I promise.

To my sister, Jacki: thank you first for lending your medical expertise to Dante’s death scene and helping ensure it was accurate rather than television-drama nonsense. But more importantly, thank you for walking beside me through both the shadows and the light of life. I love you.

A tremendous thank you to the reviewers, book bloggers, BookTok creators, and every reader who recommended this book to a friend. Your support means more than you know.

With thanks as well to Hozier for the inspiration. His album Unreal Unearth, and especially “A Hymn to Virgil,” planted some of the earliest seeds that eventually became this story.

I would also be remiss not to acknowledge two of the original sources of inspiration behind this book: Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol and Dante Alighieri’s The Divine Comedy. I’m honored to add my small voice to the long line of artists who have used stories and poetry to brush against some spark of truth about what it means to be human.

And finally, as strange as it may sound, thank you to my characters. To Michael Dante—you haunted me until I wrote this book. I hope you’re pleased with the result. (I know you are. You’re not exactly the type to set a course and abandon it.) And to Virgil, who reminded me of the quiet power of simply sitting beside someone… of knowing when words matter, and when they only get in the way.

Thank you again for reading. This book haunted me for years, and I’m grateful it now exists in the world—hopefully haunting you, in the best possible way.

With gratitude,

Nicole