My hands trembled so hard I could barely turn the cover. The paper inside was cream, covered in a neat, flowing script that looked like artwork. A breath rattled in my chest.
The first entry that caught my eye was dated Spring, 33 years ago.
We have walked this earth for thousands of years. We adapted. We faded into the background like ink into water. We were tasked only to protect, to be the silent sentinels of a sleeping power. But today, the stillness broke.
They have found it.
Somewhere deep in the ether, the lock has turned. The magic is alive again. It shivers in the air, a frequency that hasn’t been sung since the First Era. We are moving deeper into the shadows now. We must ensure the fragment entrusted to us is never found.
My fingertip traced the ink.Thousands of years.
My parents—the people who raised me—were ancient. They walked through history, hiding, waiting. Waiting for me.
I flipped through the pages, skipping years of silence, scanning for the moment everything changed. I stopped at a page where the handwriting enlarged, jagged with excitement. Winter, 28 years ago.
We couldn’t wait any longer. The decision was made.
Today, we awakened the Spark.
Oh, she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in any lifetime! I am weeping as I write this—tears of pure, terrifying joy. She is so tiny, so delicate, yet she holds the weight of a star.
We have named her Selene. It suits her perfectly—a light in the darkness.
We have sworn our lives to her today. We will keep her safe with our magic and hold her with our hearts. She is the best thing that has ever happened to us.
A sob broke from my throat, sudden and violent.
The best thing.
I had never been the burden I imagined. I was loved. The realisation settled, profound and absolute. They had chosen me, binding their lives to mine out of pure adoration rather than obligation.
I wiped my eyes, but the tears kept coming, spotting the old paper. I flipped forward. Summer, 27 years ago.
I know she is just a babe. I know she cannot yet understand the words I speak… I have decided to start now, in the only language a child knows.
I have written her a book. A simple story with magical characters and pretty pictures—a Sun and a Moon finding their way back to each other. She sat on my lap today while I read it, her eyes wide and curious, tracking the gold paint on the page. She doesn’t know it is a map. One day, she will.
I looked at the bag beside me, where the coverless children’s book rested. She had handed me the truth, disguised as a bedtime story, before I could even walk.
I turned the pages of the journal faster. The entries shifted; the elegant loops of the script became jagged and rushed. A sharp terror was etched into every frantic slant of the pen.
The next entry was written in a hurry. It was from Spring, 23 years ago.
I am so scared for her.
Last night, we all felt it. A rupture. Somewhere in the world, another power exploded—a dark, chaotic mirror to her own. Our own magic reacted instantly…
But Selene… she hasn’t settled. She is still buzzing. Her skin is hot to the touch, fever-bright. Her eyes have turned gold.
I am afraid of what will happen if we fail. I am afraid she will burn herself out. I love her so much, my Little Sun. I cannot let her fade.
I closed the book. The air in the flat felt suffocating. She didn’t. She let herself fade instead.
My hand found the scar on my shoulder. For the first time, the markfelt like a fingerprint—a final touch—rather than a brand. A final touch from a mother who chose death over letting me burn.
I staredat the last lines of my mother’s handwriting.
The ink was confident, sweeping—a picture of hope.
