Chap­ter XI unfolds in Vil­lon-sur-Sarthe, a small vil­lage in France, where Addie LaRue returns after many years of absence. As she steps into the vil­lage, she is imme­di­ate­ly struck by how much has changed—where once there were famil­iar sights, there are now new build­ings and trans­formed streets, reshaped by the hands of time and those who have come after her. This return to a place that once felt like home is marked by a pro­found sense of dis­con­nec­tion, as Addie walks through the altered vil­lage, reflect­ing on how mem­o­ry and place are con­stant­ly evolv­ing. Despite the dra­mat­ic changes, the sight of an old yew tree near her child­hood home offers a fleet­ing glimpse of recog­ni­tion and nos­tal­gia, a small anchor to the past that she can hold onto in the midst of every­thing else that has shift­ed.

The house that once belonged to Addie’s fam­i­ly is now occu­pied by new inhab­i­tants, who are bliss­ful­ly unaware of the his­to­ry that once lived with­in its walls. As Addie watch­es them, she notices the young boys play­ing in the yard, their care­free exis­tence a stark reminder of her own ghost­ly pres­ence. Her brief inter­ac­tion with them rein­forces her sense of being invis­i­ble, a shad­ow pass­ing through a world that no longer remem­bers her. This moment sparks a vis­it to the local ceme­tery, where Addie finds the tree she plant­ed over Estele’s grave many years ago, its tow­er­ing pres­ence a tes­ta­ment to the pas­sage of time and the life she once shared with her dear friend. The tree, root­ed in the soil of the past, stands as a silent wit­ness to the fleet­ing nature of life, mark­ing the years that have passed and the deep con­nec­tions that have been lost.

Wan­der­ing deep­er into the vil­lage, Addie finds her­self at the site of Estele’s ruined home, where mem­o­ries of the past col­lide with the present. As she stands there, she is con­front­ed by the bit­ter­sweet real­i­ty of both per­ma­nence and change, the ruins of her past life now swal­lowed by time and nature. In a chance encounter with the old­er of the two boys she had seen ear­li­er, Addie briefly plays along with the myths that have sur­round­ed her through­out her exis­tence, embrac­ing the role of the mys­te­ri­ous witch in the village’s folk­lore. This moment, though play­ful, adds anoth­er lay­er to the myth that has grown around her over the cen­turies, one that is detached from her true iden­ti­ty but deeply tied to the sto­ries peo­ple have cre­at­ed about her. It is a reminder that while her true self is for­got­ten, the myths and leg­ends about her per­sist, inter­twin­ing with the fab­ric of the village’s his­to­ry.

As the vil­lage and its sur­round­ings con­tin­ue to change, Addie is left to reflect on her own place in this cycle of decay and trans­for­ma­tion. Amid the ruins and encroach­ing woods, she grap­ples with her eter­nal exis­tence and the toll that time has tak­en on both the world around her and her­self. Luc, ever-present and ever-tempt­ing, appears dur­ing this time of reflec­tion, chal­leng­ing Addie’s rea­sons for return­ing to Vil­lon-sur-Sarthe. His words, filled with his usu­al mix of cyn­i­cism and temp­ta­tion, serve as a reminder of the eter­nal strug­gle she faces—her refusal to suc­cumb to the weari­ness of immor­tal­i­ty despite the con­stant chal­lenges it brings. In this chap­ter, Addie’s jour­ney through the vil­lage becomes a pow­er­ful metaphor for her inter­nal strug­gle with change, mem­o­ry, and the pro­found long­ing for belong­ing. The phys­i­cal trans­for­ma­tion of Vil­lon-sur-Sarthe mir­rors the emo­tion­al and psy­cho­log­i­cal changes Addie faces, as she nav­i­gates the ten­sion between the past and the present, between who she was and who she is now. Through this, the chap­ter explores the cost of immor­tal­i­ty and the deep desire for con­nec­tion, even as the world around her con­tin­ues to evolve with­out her.