My name is still there, as it’s always been, but the wordsprime editionsits below it.
This isn’t my original book.
What does prime edition even mean? I search my mother’s unresponsive face, desperate for the answers I know she can’t give. As I turn to an earlier page in the book, Iywan appears in my peripheral vision, staring down at it before I can close it. My pulse quickens.
“You were readingthat?” he asks.
My brows draw together, and I scrutinize the words on the page again. “Yes…?”
“When did you learn to read the Ancient Tongue?”
“I…” Staring down at the page again, I frown. Slowly, the symbols morph and I recoil; it’s definitely not the common tongue. How is it possible that I never noticed? I slam the book shut. “I have to go,” I say, jumping to my feet.
To my surprise, Iywan doesn’t stop me as I rush out, my heart hammering. My heels thud against the ground as I run through the corridors, ignoring Ren’s calls even as he keeps up with my rapid footfalls. I’m winded by the time I get to my bedchamber and slam the door in Ren’s face without a word to him.
Dropping the book onto my desk, I step away from it and stare. What next? It’ll burst into flames? I’m not sure what to expect of it anymore. How could I have been reading a differentlanguagewithout realizing it?
Pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes, I pace back and forth, trying to remember the details of when I was given the book. I was probably five years old, and the book definitely hadtranslatedwritten on it whereprime editionnow exists. I’d read the book so often and so frequently that the pages began to wear, and the binding loosened. It was only a year ago that my mother?—
Wait, I remember my mother had taken the book and sent it away to be repaired. Nothing had appeared different except for the front and back cover that had been replaced with nondescript leather. How could I have never noticed that she had replaced the entire book? How can I read in a language I didn’t even know existed?
When my mother had given me the new book, she’d made me read a passage aloud to her. She’d stared at me hopefully as I read and had beamed as if it was my first time ever reading.You’re a natural,she’d said, and I never thought much of it.
Heirs of Agryna.
Heirs of Dusk and Embers.
If one is a translation of the other, are they synonymous?
Gods help me.
I’m still flipping through pages of my fairytale book when the sun sets. I sit on the floor in front of my fireplace, combing through page after page for any other discrepancies. In the translation that I had, Shadow Wielders practiced dark magic and were vanquished by the Lightweavers. But in this version, the Shadow Wielders fought alongside the Lightweavers.
Once again, everything I’ve been told is a lie.
I want to march into my mother’s bedchamber and force her wake, to demand that she explain things to me. Like how I can read the Ancient Tongue without even noticing. Why she intentionally replaced my book and didn’t bother to tell me. Just as she didn’t bother to tell me about my own powers—or her powers for that matter.
I slam the tome shut and rise with it, slipping it under my bed, although I’ve walked around the palace with it fully on display plenty of times. Now it feels like something that should’ve been kept secret. I need to know more. I need to figure things out.
I need to get to the library.
Thousands of books stand before me—shelves upon shelves from the floor to the top of the ornate domed ceiling… I’m suddenly struck with just how daunting this search would be. Where do I start? What amI even searching for? I fiddle with my amulet, turning in a slow circle in the royal library.
Walk, says a voice within me, sending a shiver down my spine.
A strange sensation draws me toward the very back of the library, through the archway that leads to the historical archives. I approach a shelf of plain leather spines.
“Now what?” I ask aloud, as though my own internal voice would respond.
Silence.
Gods, I hate silence. I zip my amulet along the necklace as I walk down the row of books. Dust coats the shelves, as though no one has dared to venture this far for quite some time. I make it to the wall, and as I’m about to turn to walk back down the row of shelves, one book in particular catches my attention. As I stare at it, four glowing symbols materialize: a singular spiral, three whorls, a cross within a circle, and a triquetra. The symbols fade away as I reach for the book.
I remove the book carefully and stare at the title:The Book of Agryna. The symbol of the goddess is inked into the front cover. I trace my fingers over the beautifully engraved whorls within the sun, the wavy rays radiating off the center.
It’s exactly like my necklace. I press my hand against my pendant before taking the book to one of the two velvet armchairs in the main chamber and sinking into the comfortable cushions. The book is thin, but the text—written in the Ancient Tongue—is tiny. There’s a lot more information here than I expected from such a small book, beginning with a short history of Agryna in the days when the old gods and goddesses roamed the mortal realm.
Agryna is the patron goddess of the royal house of Erleya—my ancestors on my father’s side. I flip through the pages, searching for something—butwhat? There are references to shadows and dusk quite often, used almost interchangeably. The sun casts shadows.Dusk comes after sunset, just before nightfall. Under the cover of dusk and shadows, there is protection and relief from the heat of Agryna’s rays.
