I don't know. I can't be sure, but I already feellike I belong among people I've never met, just from simply seeing it.
Elodie Silverthorne.
Ellie Silverthorne.
Junie Thellerman.
Mallory Brenner.
Eladora Silverthorne.
It’s a list of women, and if I’m guessing correctly, Elodie Silverthorne is me.
It sits, weighted on my shoulders as I breathe it in. I know it’s true, I feel it in my soul, and I can only assume that Ellie SIlverthorne is my mother.
Gulping, I pause my assumptions and hopes, turning my attention to the next page.
The sound of it turning between my palms echoes in the silent room as I absorb the words faster than my brain can acknowledge.
If you are reading this, you have been entrusted with the power of the scythes. I'm sure you may know by now that such gifts do not come lightly. There is much to know, much to learn, much to bear, but know that everything you require to understand who you are, where you come from, and why you are here is all in this room.
It is with the greatest assumption that you are here alonereading this, with no ancestor to pass down the stories and heartache, which bears a quest for the beholder, and that beholder is you.
Before we delve deeper into where we come from, what we stand for, and who we are, it is with the greatest urgency that we acknowledge how this room came to be.
The power of the scythes was once ours and ours alone, but with time came others with the wish and desire to control such abilities. It is with great sadness we acknowledge that the scythes lost control of their powers to the hands of another… and another.
If you are reading this now, it is with great hope that a miracle may have been bestowed upon us, and our powers will be entrusted to their rightful owners… ourselves.
My heart pounds in my ears as I desperately fight against the desire to skip to the end, skipping all of the answers in favor of an explanation. Instead, I take another steadying breath as I flip the page, only to have the air lodge in my throat at the sight of smeared blood swiped across the paper. My eyes are wild as I try to read the scribbled, hurried writing.
The Shadow Realm has fallen at our hands, but not by our order.
I pause, unable to continue reading when I know this doesn't just affect me. Sure it has a relevance to everybody in the room, but it's Thorne who I turn my attention to.
His eyes are already on me and his eyebrows narrow as he sees the concern in my eyes. Despite it, I wave him closer, but he doesn’t immediately move.
“Please,” I breathe, unable to express what it is I'm asking for.
Wordlessly, he kicks his shoes off, eliminating the few steps between us to come to a stop at my side. With a trembling finger, I point out the line I just read, and as he reads it, I push on, absorbing the words for myself.
The Scythes were under the control of Jude Forrester. I hope, with all that I am, that you do not know who this man is, that you never have to face the treachery he's willing to bestow upon our world. But it was not his order that caused pain to so many. Although he was our master for some time, it was atthe hands of the fickle organization trying to control the supernatural world, which seem to call themselves The Sanctum.
I vow, with all that I am and will become, that these actions and the pain caused were never a wish of the scythe. All the scythes want is to live in harmony with everybody. It doesn't matter what your supernatural abilities are, what tag that comes with, or where you might fall in the hierarchy of this God-forsaken world. All that matters is that you're a good, fair person.
That's all we want.
One world for all.
It's how we lost our control.
People don't see it as freedom.
People are threatened by equality.
And though we may be controlled, forced to take actions that are never ours, our true morals will never change.
This is who we are.
