As I approach the twilight of my life, a sense of unease grips me. I’m visited nightly by dreams of the fairy’s haunting melody, its ethereal song calling out to me in a way I cannot ignore. I fear that the story may not be over, that there are still secrets hidden within the depths of that bargain, waiting to be revealed.
I sign this letter as Cora Darrow, taking back my birthright of the Darrow name and passing it down to my daughter, so that it may live on as Gran intended.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Love Is a Curse
Nora set the book aside and digested what she had just read. The pain and sorrow of the book threatened to consume her. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks; an ache deep within her sprang to the surface. She knew the sadness that came along with losing a beloved grandmother, but she had never known a love like Cora and James’s. She couldn’t imagine losing both a soulmate and a beloved grandmother in a single day.
Her love for Sam wasn’t the kind of love typically depicted in stories like this. If she were completely honest, their relationship had been more of a long-term fling than something built on unwavering love for each other. If she had truly loved him, she wouldn’t have dragged her feet when he had asked her to marry him. She realized Sam’s infidelity had been a blessing in disguise; she had been saved from marrying a man she didn’t truly love,leaving space for someone she could.
A lightness came over her for the first time in two years. She was actually happy their relationship had ended the way it did. Sam was a necessary part of her past—he had taught her exactly what she didn’t want in a husband. That was a gift in itself.
Maybe this trip was just what she needed to let him go. Even though she still didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life, at least now she was free from the burden of Sam.
Her thoughts wandered back to the heartache Cora had suffered. Now she understood what Colin was talking about. It had been Cora who was cursed, not the book. But why was Nora’s life mirroring the events she’d read about? More than mere coincidences, the recent events had her mind spinning with a whirlwind of questions that she might never find answers to.
The feeling of untamed energy came flooding back and bounced around inside her, causing her heart to flutter like a caged bird. She opened her notebook and wrote down the fairy’s song from the book. It reminded her of the poems she often wrote, but as she penned it down, it felt broken, cryptic, and altogether wrong.
Suddenly the wind picked up, and a loud thwack on one of the windows facing the lake caused Nora to jump and drop the book onto the floor. A branch from the young oak tree near the deck had caught the wind, thrashing it into the window with force. The book lay splayed on the floor, resembling a fallen bird, with the last page sticking straight up like a solitary feather. When Nora picked it up, she noticed something on the backside of the last page.
Excitement surged through her; how had she not noticed this before? At first, she thought it was a note from Colin, but the handwriting was not the same. The note was written in a fancyscript with ornate flourishing letters, reminiscent of a woman’s hand. Though the ink was faded, the note was still legible. Not waiting a minute longer, Nora rested herself against the cushions of the sofa and began to read.
It has been one hundred and fifty-eight years since that fateful day when I first lost James, and once again, I find myself engulfed in the grip of loss. One hundred and fifty-eight years later, and I finally understand how the fairy curse was meant to unfold. Our love continued as our souls became entrapped in an endless loop of love and loss, destined to find each other and then lose one another over and over through reincarnation. Had it not been for a ritual at Hogmanay, I might never have understood. It unlocked memories from my past life, and once I awoke from my vision, I remembered it all.
I had my original handwritten copy printed into this book, hoping that the enchantments within it would not be lost to time. I write this account in the back, hoping that my future self will read it and continue the quest to break the curse. As you may have noticed, I had the printer leave this blank page at the back of the book so that anyone who might read it and work out parts of the curse has a place to record them, a place to keep them safe and together with the other clues.
I’ve deciphered one section of the code:“Through whispered echoes, twenty-seven times four, forever love will bind once more.”The curse was cast upon me as Cora in 1667, and I was reborn Marion in 1775, separated by one hundred and eight years—twenty-seven times four is one hundred and eight. If my calculations are correct, my next life will begin in 1883. It appears that in every family descending from the Darrow line, a baby girl is born every one hundred and eight years, ensuring this dreaded curse continues. James, on the other hand, does not seem to be bound to any specific lineage like I am. Trapped in this cycle, his soul finds any vessel it can to fulfill its tragic destiny.
Today, on my fiftieth birthday, it has been thirty years since I lost Peter, the reincarnation of James, out at sea. I know that water plays a role in the curse, but I have yet to uncover much more than that. If my future self is reading this, I pray that you have found a way to break us free from this torment. May the Goddess guide you on your journey, and may you finally bring an end to the cycle of love and loss that has plagued us for centuries.
Nora’s mind wandered back to the strange visions she had experienced on the mountain as the stag entered the clearing. She had seen a ship tossed about on a stormy sea. Could it have been a psychic vision of these events? She closed the book and set it in her lap, shaking her head. No, she wasn’t a psychic. She could barely navigate her own life, let alone unravel the mysteries of someone who had died centuries ago. This whole thing was starting to mess with her head.
As the questions swirled in her mind, one thing became clear: she had to discover more about the truth behind this curse, no matter where it led her.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Yarrow
Nora set the book down, her mind spinning with confusion. Had Colin been attempting to decipher the curse that Cora had unknowingly fallen under all those years ago, believing that he and Edith were the reincarnations of Cora and James? She picked up the next letter from the pile and began reading, eager to discover if her theory was correct and if Marjorie and Colin had found a way to break the curse.
19/1/1944
Dear Marjorie,
I hope this letter finds you well and starting off the new year in good spirits. Last week, I received long-awaited orders directing me to a facility in England where I will be working in an office filling out paperwork. It’s not a veryexciting job, but it is what I can do to counter the German forces after being wounded in battle. However, there is quite a bit of downtime in which I am able to work on decoding Cora’s curse.
Even though I’m closer to Edith here in England, I’m still quite far away from London and not able to see her. I miss her terribly. The ache of her absence weighs heavy on my heart. I understand all those songs about love in a very different way now that I have experienced it myself. I yearn for the day when this bloody war is but a memory and we can return to the simple pleasures of our normal lives.
I received a letter from her this week, reassuring me of her safety, though the hospital where she serves is nearing full capacity with wounded men returning from the battlefield. I cant say I miss the days when I stood shoulder to shoulder with my comrades, slogging through the rugged hills and muddy fields of Italy, but it was a bit more exciting than filing paperwork.
I’ll write whenever I can. Until then, remember the words from my last letter and think about reconnecting with Flora.
With love, Colin
Nora realized this must have been when he was sent to Bletchley Park to work with the codebreaker. He couldn’t disclose his location or the nature of his covert work to Marjorie or Gram, a fact that must have weighed heavily on him. She imagined the difficulties of his dual responsibilities—codebreaking for the British government and trying to break the curse—and what a strain they must have put on him.
Pulling the next letter from its yellowed envelope, Nora couldsmell the aged cigarette smoke that still clung to the woven paper, fully immersing her in times past.
