Your letters remind me of what’s at stake if we can’t stop the Tether. So please keep on writing. These achy bones coulduse a good laugh after Gran kicks my butt in battle training every day. Remember, this fight isn’t just about our survival; it’s about forging a future. One where our families are no longer at war. A future where love triumphs over loss, and we can at least eat cheesesteaks together. And after all I’ve learned about you tonight, there’s no one I’d rather fight for this future with than you.
Oh! I almost forgot to tell you: I found Grace’s diary a while ago. Some passages may as well be riddles wrapped in enigmas, as if she was writing in code. She was always a thinker and a planner, so this is just like her. Gracie was probably afraid that one of us would read it. But it’s strange, it’s like she knew she wouldn’t live long. Seeing her handwriting warmed my heart, though. She even wrote a poem that implied for one to live, another must die. I wonder if she was talking about the Tether or if there was someone else she feared could die? I don’t know, but I’ll decode every word if it brings us one step closer to ending this curse.
I can’t believe how quickly these letters are coming, but I love it. I’ve been waiting for this mailbox to appear all night. Your stories are like little pockets of light, making my night glow. You make everything seem possible. Your words have this way of pulling me out of my worries and into a place where everything feels… right.
Hopefully, we’ll become more than just pen pals and distant allies one day…
Anyway, the sun is rising, so I better get some rest. Goodbye for now.
With timeless affection,
Emma
As I seal the letter, I feel a spark of excitement followed by a wave of apprehension. I never thought I’d start to feel connected to someone I barelyknow… especially a Davenport boy. But his letters carry a warm, friendly feeling that threatens to tear down all my walls. That scares me. But Malcolm’s words have ignited a curiosity that grows inside me with each note that I read. I can’t wait to see where this partnership leads us.
When I wake from what feels like an endless sleep, I read a good-morning message from Malcolm that makes my day brighter. I grab a quick bite to eat and head down the hall to Gran’s library, wearing the smile of a conspirator. Once I’m inside, a glass bridge stretches out before me. It’s intricately designed, with swirling silver and diamonds that glint on the frozen river suspended in the air.
Under it, I take in the vast beauty of my grandmother’s collection—rows upon rows of leather-bound books in a rainbow of colors. My hip bumps against a crystal jewel-encrusted book cart as I walk through rows of tall clear bookshelves.
I have no idea where to start my search for clues. Feeling overwhelmed, I say, “Bridge,” and the bridge above lowers so I can step onto it.
“Good evening, Emma Baldwin,” says a voice as soft and polished as the gleaming glass I stand on.
“Hello,” I reply.
A shimmering holographic librarian materializes beside me. Her tan skin glimmers with stardust. Square glasses perch on the tip of her dainty nose as her wavy blue hair twinkles and winks in the light.
“How may I help you?” she asks.
She pixelates, blurring blue at the edges before becoming so transparent that shelves of books in the library are visible through her torso. Pages from ancient novels curve to form her heart-shaped bustier, their ink glowing golden. The bell-shaped skirt of her gown is a stunning mosaic of pages that rustles in a symphony of knowledge as the bridge hovers. Looking at it makes me realize how much I don’t know. For example, I know Papa got his magic when he married Mom and joined our family. But I don’t know if that’s how it works for other magical families or if it happens that way with us because of the curse.
We float above towering crystal shelves stocked with colorful leather-bound books.
“Well.” I bite my bottom lip. I’ll find the information I need to know faster with the hologram’s assistance, but I fear she’ll tell my grandmother what I’m doing. “Can you keep the information I seek between us?” I ask.
“Yes, ma’am.” She flickers, buzzes blue, and a silver haze ripples over her tilted head and the pages that form her dress. “Nothing in my programming says that I have to report your presence.”
“Good,” I reply. “I want to know about the witch and her Tether.” The bridge, my grandmother’s prized creation, glistens under my black boots. Everything sparkles like it’s been kissed by a million stars.
I glide across the bridge, the hem of my midnight-blue gown trailing behind me like a slice of the night sky. Silver constellations embroidered into the fabric glow silver, then shift into white like the stars painted on the ceiling above. My steps twinkle into footsteps that glow vivid white on the glass bridge. “What do you know about the history of my family’s curse?” I ask the librarian.
“History is vast,” she says, her digital sparkling hairpins casting purple prismatic light above her. “Unraveling all the threads that bind your bloodline to the curse and witch’s Gambit will take time.”
“Time I don’t have,” I reply. “I need answers fast. Give me the abbreviated version and quickly. Please.”
“As you wish.” The sparkling hairpins in her digital hair flicker now with the light of a million stories. Her three quantum data belts glow purple as they spin, dip, loop, and swoop in oval hoops around her waist.
She pushes glowing buttons on the thick silver bracelet on her wrist, and two books from the crystal bookshelves around us glow with amber light. The books shimmy themselves free from the shelves and flutter down like birds to the bridge.
“Thank you,” I say, even my breaths riddled with desperation.
“Here,” the librarian says, eyeing the full sun beaming outside the circular window before pointing at a fluttering book. It flies closer. “The Tether is mentioned in this volume…”
The book spreads wide, open pages aglow, and words hover in the air above it.
The librarian reads them: “‘The Tether is a thread spun with the hopes and dreams of the slaves. And dyed with their blood.’” Her digital eyes flicker and fill with static. Her holographic body shimmers like moonlight on water.
I glance down at the inkwell infinity waterfall in the corner below us. Its ink falls silently, curling over pearly stones and pooling into a basin at the bottom.
