March 31st,1426
I am losing my mind. I have to give them an honest chance. Helix told me I had already lost my mind when I told him about the vision in my dream, but I hadn’t. Not yet. The thought of the children going insane is heartbreaking. They deserve a fighting chance. I weep myself to sleep at night, not knowing what to do. Helix had always said my heart wastoo soft to carry such a burden, when he finally believed me. Perhaps that is the ultimate goal. I can’t stand this anymore. Losing him, seeing how that cursed jewelry poisoned his blood to such an extent that the night dwellers didn’t even want himanymore.Istill wake up hearing his cries of agony, the pain he was put through, all because I was too weak, too weak to relieve him of his pain.
Tomorrow, I’ll tell the children I cannot relive such torture once more. Why did this befall upon me?
April 2nd, 1426
I finally did it. I told my children about their cruel fate. They first laughed at me, said I was crazy, and then, realizing I was serious, they got scared. So frightened. I told them to pick a weapon of choice. As if we have many weapons at our disposal. Sybil grabbed the axe instantly, eagerly, almost. They will battle it out tomorrow, on their sixteenth birthday. My tears don’t stop falling, but I am forced to write this down, my body not my own, as I pen down these words, reliving every horrible moment until my death.
April 4th, 1426
I can’t stop weeping. My baby boy was killed by his own sister. She returned to me, covered in blood, and when I started to cry, she told me not to worry as it wasn’t hers. She smiled, smiling at her own brother's death. He never stood a chance, as she attacked him while he was still preparing. Planted the axe straight into his head, then cut him to pieces. She felt compelled to tell it all, in all its glory. How the blood rained down on her, how the air filled with a metallic tang, how the blood tasted almostsweet. I feel sick writing this down. Mylovely, softbaby boy. Why are ourfates destined forcruelty? By the old Gods, what have we done to deserve such fates?
January 1st, 1428
It all happened so fast, and here I am, forced to pick up this damn book again, to write. Our lives were almost peaceful. Then, the moment she turned eighteen, he appeared a day later. Edgar. Her soulmate, just like Helix was mine. The ache is more dull nowadays, the loss of both my loves. My soul love and my maternal love. I despise Sybil even though she was forced to do it. She seemed to revel in it, enjoying the fact that she took her brother’s life. I need to sit her down and tell her what she can expect from her love, Edgar. He must die before her children reach the age of three or else he’ll die an agonizing death like my beloved Helix. Why does a part of me enjoy this? Why does my own heart yearn for her pain?
January 20th, 1428
Sybil is already with babe, and I will never forget the haunted look on her face when I told her of our destined short lives. She told me she could not tell Edgar and forbade me from doing it as well. It’s her choice. I will be a grandma to two healthy babies, Autumn children, most likely fiery, within nine months. I almost feel for her. I think more for myself. Again, I am forced to lose those that I will instantly love. Innocence molded into something malicious. I don’t think I will live long enough to witness Sybil's downfall, but I will if I can.
“This is heavy,” I tell Emrys.
He nods as he continues to browse through the papers, less bothered by the wording than I am.
“This means my father died because of the Aurum, or that my mother killed him. Those are the only two options...” I’m talking more to myself than to Emrys as his arms wrap around me, giving me the comfort I seek through the bond. I’m trying to figure out my many questions with the limited information I have.
“To know that, you’ll need to find the pages your mother has written. From what we know now, Damina was forced to write down her misery, meaning your mother most likely needs to do the same. I’m sure losing your father made her suffer.”
He kisses my head as he holds me tightly.
“I can’t believe Damina decided to let her children murder each other in some idiotic death match,” I say.
I finally understand why Mother is working so frantically to break the curse.
“Have you seen this one as well?” Emrys asks me carefully.
I turn my head to look at the paper. As his embrace loosens, I straighten myself and reach for it.
“Is that the page with the family tree?”
He nods, and I take it from his hands. I trace each survivor till it ends with my mother. The realization dawns on me that my mother is part of a twin, too—a twin she murdered. I stare at her name.Adira Dhardere.
“We are only the 8thgeneration?” I murmur.
I thought this curse was ancient, a result of a centuries-deep old wound.
“I can’t read the scratched-away name; it’s like someone tried to write it down but was unable to,” I say. “It seems that’s where it all started, this person.”
I trail my finger over the crossed-out name. It feels as if the written letters were never meant to touch the paper in the first place. A name that was intended to stay unseen. The pen strokes are hard and rushed as if each line was painted.
“Weren’t the Witch Wars around that time? The fight between Light and Dark?” I ask.
I face Emrys, who nods. “Yes, I was born around that time, right after the war ended, 270 years ago. So, you are right, the curse is old. Like me. Eight generations that lived half-fulfilled lives.”
He laughs at his comment. I watch him as his dark eyes roam over the worn papers. His flawless features are so handsome it nearly hurts, and his beauty is ethereal, almost ghostly.
“If only you could see yourself through my eyes, your own beauty. Your swirling eyes, always a storm, your long raven hair, those lips.”
