Page 200 of A Winding Wave of Magic
“The Order has kept the complete version a secret,” Jonathan said.
“Along with the fact that the original translation was wrong,” Rachel added. “Another version of the Irish exists, and the word for ‘prophesied.’ Plain folk added that. Listen:
Until the bowl be found and filled
Emptiness will reign, shadows will rule
For she who Sees and drinks of water, earth, sun, and wind may light the world and give life to all.
She looked again at the piece of parchment. Hovered her fingers over its fraying edges. “There is another story. A Greek Story of how tragedy and hardship arrived in the world. And also a prophecy of how it may be reclaimed.”
I looked at Jonathan. “Pandora’s box.”
Everyone nodded.
I looked back at the parchment. “You think this is part of Pandora’s box.”
“I think it may lead us to it or something like it, whether or not it’s an actual jar or box that was ever given to a person named Pandora,” Jonathan admitted. “And there are members of the Council—my father included—who believe the same thing. And they want to find it more than anything.”
“What exactly does he think he’ll find?” I asked. “And if you say hope, I’ll strangle you.”
Like it always did, the memory of Caleb Lynch’s ghost-like countenance froze me from head to toe.
“Caleb Lynch is dying,” Robbie said. “As is every fae who’s ever given in to the animal urges that drive us all and created a new generation because of it. Most of us can accept the consequences as the natural order of things. But there are some who think mortality was settled on the fae as part of a curse. And thatElpis—the hope Pandora left inside—may offer a way to rescind it.”
“My father wants his immortality back,” Jonathan said. “He wants to live forever. And he mustn’t. No one should.”
I gulped. Long life was one thing, but the idea of someone like Caleb Lynch or anyone of his sort living forever was trulyterrifying.
“So…what?” I asked. “Penny wanted the Secret out there? Then what? I’m supposed to find Pandora’s Box, open it and let out all the horrors into the world?”
“I think they’re already here, Cassandra,” he replied quietly.
“Exactly,” Robbie agreed.
But Rachel was more circumspect. “You’re supposed to let out the light. You’re supposed to let out Hope so no one else can capture her. You’re supposed to set her free.”
55
TOMBS OF PROMISES
…and these images were made by means of spells and magic lore.
— ANONYMOUS FIFTEENTH-CENTURY AUTHOR,THE DINDSHENCHAS
“Cassandra! Wait!”
We were just about to pile back into the little Fiat Jonathan had hired from Galway when Rachel’s voice called across the lawn. She had promised to send us whatever translation she could come up with later that day, much to Jonathan and Robbie’s frustration. Without anything else in hand, we had left her with the parchment, locked in its box that both men assured me she would keep safer at an Order safe house than we could at the Brigantian.
She jogged over, her auburn curls bouncing on her shoulders. “Before you go, I’d like to show you something. I—” She stopped and glanced at Jonathan almost apologetically. “I think it might have something to do with your mystery. Please.”
We followed her across the lawn to an excavation site on the far side of a large mound covered in grass. A swimming-pool-sized ditch had been dug in front of what looked like an entrance only just uncovered from layers of mud. Now that the rain had stopped, several people who looked like grad students were on their knees with chisels and brushes designed to remove layers of sedimentation without damaging the treasures they might find below.
“Is this the mound Gifford found last year?” Jonathan asked.
I glanced at him curiously. The man really was informed about everything.
Rachel nodded. “The family who owns the land called Trinity. It’s been overlooked for years since it’s a bit farther from the other valley sites.” She beckoned. “Follow me. This is what they’ve asked me to consult on. Er, if you gentlemen would be so kind with your lights.”
