“Yes, you can,” he murmurs. “He believed in you. Now it’s time to believe in yourself.”
The words hit harder than I expect, because he’s right. But I don’t want to. I don’t want to fight for a world where Eron doesn’t exist. Where I have to move forward without him.
I swallow the lump in my throat and take a breath that doesn’t help. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s just go.”
The centaur gestures to the swirling mist as Theo leads the group through. The centaur catches my hand in his, making me pause. “Not all loss is forever, not all sacrifices are what they seem. Don’t lose hope, Daphne. Hold your head high and claim what is yours, and one diurnal this will all make sense.”
I tug my arm free. “There is no world where this will make sense.” I stride through the portal with Nash at my side, while Gwyneth and Charming follow us.
The world shifts in a blink, the cold of the forest replaced with the scent of fresh soil and herbs. We emerge into a garden bursting with vines and vegetables, the air warm and filled with the hum of bees as sunshine beats down on our faces. But the chill in my heart remains.
Two men stand amidst the verdant rows of crops, their sturdy arms burdened by woven baskets brimming with freshly harvested carrots. They work with an ease born of familiarity, plucking the vibrant orange roots from the earth as if oblivious to the world staging a grand unraveling around them. One man, the elder of the two, looks weathered and wise, his deep-set wrinkles mapping a lifetime of toil beneath a broad-brimmed hat. As he lifts his gaze, a sudden stillness envelops him. His stoic expression shatters, crumpling into a mask of concern, andhis gnarled fingers reflexively tighten around the carrots, as if attempting to grasp not just the harvest but the very threads of stability in a changing world.
“No,” he whispers. “Eron…”
The other man straightens, glancing between us before his expression hardens. “Come inside. This isn’t a topic for little ears.” I scan the garden, but don’t spot any ears. Maybe they are invisible.
The weight of their power curls around us, deep knowledge humming in my veins. These are the Grimm brothers, the answer to all our prayers, yet I would give anything to reverse course and save Eron.
They lead the way into their roomy cottage, the warmth coming from the crackling fire a direct contrast to the icy grief weighing down my chest. There are books stacked in every corner, their spines cracked and worn. The scent of parchment and spiced tea lingers in the air.
I barely register sitting down at the large wooden table. The others talk, their voices distant and muffled, as if I’m hearing them from the bottom of a well. I stare at my hands resting in my lap, useless. The weight of Eron’s absence presses against my ribs—suffocating, crushing, and inescapable.
Theo places a cup of tea in front of me, but I don’t look up. He kneels and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. “Drink the tea, Daphne. It will help with the shock.”
Tea won’t help bring him back.
“How did it happen?” the younger of the brothers asks.
A sob gets caught in my throat. How? “He died saving me.”
They need to leave me. I’m dangerous.
“He’s triggered the transfer,” the younger one says as he rubs the back of his head. “He knew what he was doing.”
If he did, then he failed to tell me.
“What does that mean?” Gwyneth asks.
“A sacrifice had to be made, an unselfish deed for the Grimm bloodline,” the older guy answers.
Nash holds up his hand. “Just confirming you are who we think you are?”
“I’m Jacob Grimm,” the older one declares. “And my brother is Wilhelm.”
Gwyneth clears her throat, drawing my attention. “We came here for a reason.” Her voice is soft but firm. “Daphne is caught up in the Lady of the Lake’s legend. We need your help to disentangle her.”
I blink at her, my brain sluggish to process. “What if I’m exactly where I need to be? What if this is my fate, and my fighting against it is costing others their lives?”
Gwyneth exchanges a glance with Theo. “No, that is not the way this works. We fought our way here because it’s your destiny to live for a long time.” She gestures toward the brothers. “They understand how stories work and how legends are shaped.”
Jacob nods, his gaze filled with something I can’t quite place. “You think fate is unchangeable, but that’s not entirely true.” He links his hands together and leans forward. “You have more power over your own story than you realize.”
I frown, my mind still stuck in the past. “What does it matter?” My voice is hollow. “What’s the point if we can’t change the things that really matter?”
Jacob sighs. “Because you’re not just part of this story, Daphne.” I barely hear him. The ache inside me is too loud. He takes a deep breath. “You and Gwyneth are our descendants. That’s how you claimed the living library and why the All Knowing sent you to us.”
The room falls silent, and my heart stutters. How can that be? Does that mean my mother or my father is a Grimm?
