Page 147 of A Legacy of the Light

“What the…?” I question as I pull the basket from the shelf. The ball of mist floats in the space where the basket had just been.

I lean into the cupboard and feel along the shelf for anything that might have been left behind.

I run my fingers along the smooth surface of the wood, not finding anything that the Craobh might think is useful.

“Just tampons in here, I’m afraid,” I say. I’m talking to inanimate objects now, apparently.

The pendant, clasped in my other hand, and the white mist ball both flash a bright light, casting relief onto the stone at the back of the shelf.

There. In the bottom corner.

I practically climb into the cupboard to get a closer look at the small marks in the stone, and gasp when I see the Darrow symbol etched there.

It’s no bigger than a fingernail, but it’s there.

I lay my palm flat on the stone, hoping it will open the same way the chambers do.

The sensation I have grown accustomed to in the last five weeks washes through me, the magic of my blood and the magic of the seal trading back and forth up my arm and in my chest.

After a few seconds, the stone pops free, revealing a small opening in the wall.

I reach inside, slowly. My fingers brush against cold leather that feels distinctly like a book.

I grasp it and pull it free, then sit on the bathroom floor. The mist suddenly disappears and the Craobh goes silent as the stars in my other hand as I look down at the faded brown leather in my lap.

I blow the dust away. No title.

Opening the first page, the sentence scribbled there makes my heart plummet.

The Dorche are coming.

Nothing else is on the page, but the handwriting is instantly recognizable.

Granny.

I turn the next page and smile when I see her familiar scrawl. This must have been one of her journals that she kept in Elfayne. The date at the top is over one hundred and fifty years ago.

My smile quickly falters as I read. She talks about the rising of the rebels, how they attacked villages and towns, and how powerful they were. How even her light wasn’t a match for the Brollachan. Months before they attacked Elfayne, and killed her father, they were going from town to town and slaughtering everyone in their path, particularly those without any power if they didn’t join them.

My stomach roils with each sentence. They were merciless, and there was nothing she could do to stop them. Her hopelessness and pain are evident in each sentence.

I skip ahead a couple of entries, and a few words jump out at me:

This is not the first time Seelie have corrupted magic.

I almost drop the journal. I hurry into the bedroom to read the entry.

Granny goes on to say that she had been searching through the chambers for anything that might help them. Just when she was losing hope, the last shelf in the third chamber had a few mentions of a darkness that rose ten thousand years ago, rivaling the light wielders for power.

She doesn’t write about the content of the books, or their titles, only of her intent to see if they contain anything that could help her.

And maybe help us now.

I turn the page, hoping to find more of what she discovered, but the rest of the journal is empty.

I stash the journal in the top drawer of my nightstand, vowing to take it to Finneus first thing in the morning. We have barely scratched the surface with the number of books and scrolls held in the Darrow chambers. This information could be just what we need to finally make some progress after weeks of disappointment and frustration.

Chapter 36