My bed is unmade, and the dim lighting makes the area look depressing and cold. The fire barely crackles from the sitting area and books are scattered around the room, not helping the already dusty ambiance.
“You need to explain what’s going on right now, Briar.” Barlowe remains standing near the fireplace, his face still unreadable but his voice harsh.
I stalk to the window, needing to give myself a moment to process. I throw open the heavy curtains, allowing minimal lighting from the gray sky to fill the area. The gloom of the town spreads sorrow through my bones and doesn’t help settle the tension floating around the room. Gathering my thoughts, I turn to him.
He’s taken a seat on an antique chair near the fireplace, his large body barely fitting into the old piece of furniture. “Briar! What the fuck is going on?”
The sudden shout makes me flinch. “Rose handed me this letter just moments ago in the kitchen. I panicked when I noticed the handwriting.” I join him in the sitting area, extending my arm and holding the letter.
“Why would Rose have this? Doesn’t she know taking letters that aren’t hers could get her in trouble? If she was found with this, who knows what our father would have done. He’s more on edge than normal, it seems.”
Barlowe’s eyes refuse to make contact with the letter as if he can’t bear the thought of this really happening right now.
“She wouldn’t have been caught, so don’t be dramatic. She does things for me like that. She’s about the only person in this castle that helps me these days.”
Barlowe rolls his eyes at me.
“I need you to look at this, Barlowe. You would know her handwriting better than me.” I move the letter closer to him once more.
His eyes slowly lower as if taking as much time as he can to make eye contact. Seconds later, his eyes dart away, and he glances toward the crackling fire, sighing. “That’s her handwriting, Briar.”
I nod, a small sob leaving my throat. “Why would a letter come today? After five years, why is this happening on the same day you arrive home?”
He shrugs as if he’s carrying more weight than he’d ever admit. Barlowe grabs the letter and studies it a bit longer this time, “I’m not sure, to be honest, but it can’t be a coincidence.”
“I’m aware of that,” I snap. “But what aren’t you telling me?”
He doesn’t respond.
I snatch the letter from him, rip open the bond, and read:
Dearest shadow,
I ask for your forgiveness for leaving this realm so early. If you are reading this, that means I am not around to tell you in person. As a child, I often told you the stories of the Greats and how our magic came to us. Long ago, there was a horrific battle between two Great Wiitches who were descendants of the God of Shadows, Raddnoke, and the God of Light, Kantore.
These Great Wiitches were cursed with magic directly from those vengeful Gods. Carobon was said to be a direct descendent of the God of Lumor. His magic was made of sheer light so bright it blinded all enemies that crossed his path. And Kalix, the descendent of the God of Shadows, was pure horror, nothingness, and could bring your worse fears to life.
We changed our names from Wiitches to Wielders, and I fear some Wiitches are bringing back the magic that should have been long forgotten. Things will change now, my princess, and I fear for you and your brother. Look for me where you feel at peace, and I will find you.
All my heart.
I turn to look at Barlowe, his eyes already wide, as both of us remain quiet, unsure of what to say. Exhaling, I break the silence, “Please tell me, Barlowe. Do you have any clue what she’s referring to?”
He closes his eyes momentarily before saying, “About the history lesson? No, I have no clue why she would tell us that story. We’ve heard it countless times before.” He pauses. “As far as the other piece, yes. There have been talks in other kingdoms of something greater at work. Something bigger is about to happen. The surrounding kingdoms have been sensing a power shift with the magic like it’s building for something or someone. Many have been concerned and talking lately.”
“Do you think Father is involved?”
“People seem to think so, yes. I’m not so sure. He’s a recluse. I think he just wants to be left alone, but like I said, this letter isn’t a coincidence. Someone was told to send this letter at this exact time. We need to be careful, andyouneed to stay out of trouble until I can find out what’s going on.”
I rub my temples since my head is pounding like an animal locked in a cage. The exhaustion from not sleeping weighs heavily on me. I toss the letter on the table before us.
Barlowe squeezes my shoulder. “I’m going to have to tell Father about this.”
I snap my head in his direction. “There is no way I’m letting you involve him. He doesn’t deserve to know a thing about what’s happened today.”
“We aren’t children anymore, Briar. As commander of this army, it is my duty to keep our kingdom safe and inform the king. Not telling him vital news is treason. If he found out we withheld this information, we would be next in line for a public punishment.”
I sigh. “I understand. But promise me you will keep this between us for a little while until I can find out what’s going on.”
