Page 22 of Return of the Darkness
The three pins felt cool on his skin as he held them flat against his palm, trying to understand their symbolism. Perhaps they once belonged to lords—symbols for those who held settlements? Caellum placed them back in the box and kept it aside, intending to take the box with him when he left the study.
His father’s feather quills were lined up neatly, though dried ink marred the tips of some. Other than the trinket box, there was nothing unusual about the items on the desk. Caellum turned his attention to the cupboard door on the right-hand side of the desk and opened it to find nothing but a dagger, a blanket, and blank parchment sheets. He gave up on the cupboard and the three drawers on his left. Below it was a cupboard full of more glasses and an empty decanter. Caellum did not need to sniff it to know its contents. The middle drawer was empty, while the top contained rolled parchments. No journal. Caellum pulled the string from one parchment, which cracked as he unrolled it. He was carefullaying it out. He traced his finger over the inked names and lines, pausing at a soaring hawk etched at the top. Names branched off at different points, filling the entire width and length of the scroll. The early names were faded, but as Caellum scanned the long parchment, with the top falling over the side of the desk and pooling in ribbons on the floor, a familiar name appeared. Balfour. Caellum skipped to the end, where seven names were scrawled along the bottom: Aurelia, Dalton, Kieran, Halston, Caellum, Edlen, and Eve. All Balfours. A family tree. Caellum rolled the parchment back up to the top again, squinting at each name. He tried to make out the earlier calligraphy, far more faded than that of him and his siblings, but failed. Securing the string back around the parchment, he set it by the trinket box and decided to look at them later.
Caellum sighed and sat back in the chair, resting his elbows on the carved arms. He placed his fingers together in front of his mouth and stared at the room. The family tree was interesting, and the pins raised many questions: why did his father have them? What did they mean? He had not realised the extent of the Balfour family line, though it did not matter. Neither items were the journal he came for. A gentle knock sounded on the study door, and Caellum knew at once who it was.
“Come in,” he called, smiling. Golden hair peeked from around the corner, followed by a face that lit up every room.
“Am I interrupting you?”
When Caellum shook his head, Sadira entered and closed the door. Caellum offered her his hand, drifting his eyes over the pale pink fabric falling over her curves, scattered with embroidered butterflies. When she leaned down to kiss him, he gripped her waist with one hand and clasped her neck with the other, holding her in place to kiss her back with fervour.
“Hello,” she murmured. She pulled back with flushed cheeks, looking down at him. Caellum smiled, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“Hi,” he breathed. Sadira surveyed the desk while Caellum’s hand remained on her waist, pulling her closer.
“Have you had any luck?”
Caellum shook his head and gestured at the desk.
“A long family tree and these odd pins.” Sadira reached for the open trinket box. “One bears the same symbol as your Wiccan book.
“So, it does.” Sadira hummed, tracing the engraving. “Remember what the two Wiccans said in Albyn. My great grandfather, Lyra’s father, worked closely with the Mordane royal family. Perhaps that is why this pin is here with the symbol. Maybe it used to be hers.” Caellum smiled up at her, admiring her intelligence. It was a clever deduction, but why would his father keep them?
“What do you think about the other two?” he asked, and Sadira squinted at the faded symbol and the wolf.
“We could take them with us to Albyn and ask them again? Athena at the apothecary may also know.” Caellum nodded in agreement and looked around the room again. “You checked everywhere?”
He nodded, prompting Sadira to look around the room herself. She paused at the still open drawers on the left-hand side of the desk and removed herself from Caellum’s side to stoop before the drawer. She inclined her head to look underneath the middle drawer.
“What are you doing?” Caellum chuckled. Sadira grinned and smacked her fist against the underside of the drawer. Something popped inside.
“False bottom.” She smiled, brushing the dust off her dress. She stood back up, lifting a piece of thin wood from the drawer. Caellum leant forward as Sadira grinned, retrieving two leather-bound notebooks with frayed strings.
“How did you know?” he laughed, taking the tanned book from her hands.
“Soren and I had one in our bedroom growing up. Wehid sweets from the market in them to eat at midnight.” Sadira’s smile wavered, and she cleared her throat, placing the other journal down for Caellum. Mentioning Soren had him recalling Sir Cain’s comments about her manic state before the battle. He wrestled with whether to tell Sadira, unsure if doing so would cause her further pain when she had asked not to speak of her sister. He squeezed her hand before she let go.
“Stay. You can read one of them. I would love your company.” Caellum tugged her towards him, prompting Sadira to giggle as she fell onto his lap. Accepting a journal, she rested her head against his shoulder and opened it.
“This one is Jorah’s,” she said, tracing the name on the front page.
“I suppose this one may be my father's then,” Caellum said, unravelling the tie. The name on the front page confirmed it. He wrapped one arm around Sadira to hold her in place as they both began reading.
If anyone is reading this, then I have either lost my mind or passed away. I’ve started this journal out of fear for the future and the impact it may have on my family.
Caellum looked up at Sadira, who was reading the words over his shoulder. Her fearful expression matched his.Aurelia is but five years old, Dalton is four, Kieran three, and Halston one. If the Wiccan owner of the apothecary is right, Hestia carries my next son, Caellum. I hope I get to know you; I truly do. But if I do not, then please know I would have loved you.
I hope whoever reads this also has my father’s journal, for this is where my fear begins. I have told nobody of the horrors in his mind. He is possessed, and I believe I know the man behind it. His journal talks of a carefree man, who, for all my life, was a close ally of the Mordane royal family. One day, that all changed. Yet he did only one thing before his entries descended into madness. He visited the Historian in the Neutral City to ask about three pins found in his family heirlooms. When he returned, he waschanged. I never intended to be king, but here I am on a throne of lies he has passed onto me. Only after finding this journal have I started questioning who made him take this throne—what changed him.
His entries become confused, chaotic, darkened. I fear such a fate may befall me when I return from the Neutral City. I intend to document my mind for as long as I can on these pages. If I change, if I become anything like my father did, please tell my wife and children I am sorry.
Chapter Fourteen
Larelle
“Do you think the acolyte could have answers about Zarya?” Olden’s question stirred Larelle from her thoughts as she stared out the carriage window at the final glimpses of the glistening ocean before the passing buildings hid it from view. Larelle wished to ride from the castle into the capital; Mera, the City of Statues, but the lords had insisted on a carriage. After a long day travelling back from Keres, she was expected to attend a meeting with the lords and the representatives of the settlements she had put in place. Larelle had been prepared to face question after question, doubt after doubt, but they were unusually quiet. While they were far from apologetic for their past opinions and treatment, there appeared to be an unspoken agreement between them that she was fit to be queen, especially since she and the other rulers prevented Caligh’s darkness from overrunning Novisia. She had no doubt her representatives had aided in her absence to sway the lords. Still, they had been insistent on keeping up appearances as she journeyed to find answers on other lands, none of the Lords had any ideas as to what lands Osiris referred to.
“Vivian? Zarya seemed uncomfortable around her during our last visit, so I’m unsure if she would wish to speak with her,” Larelle murmured, her eyes now fixed on the people stopping in the streets upon spotting the royal carriage arrive in the City of Statues. Their eyes flitted between Larelle’s carriage and the one behind, with Zarya and Lillian inside. Her daughter had insisted on riding with Lillian to continue reading her book. Despite their extended visit to Keres, Larelle had not missed home, not when she had all thepeople she needed by her side wherever she went.
