Page 95 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
I cut her off abruptly, “Creating the emerald.”
Nana nods. “Yes. You were sick for many days after that. You’ve had plenty of strong reactions to your Sight, but you were getting much better at controlling it at that point. After that particularvision, you were in bed for days with horrible headaches and nosebleeds.” She surveys me affectionately, stuck in the memory. “We were so worried about you. But you never struggled again after that.”
“What kind of discrepancies with history did my visions show? And why can’t I remember those visions now?”
“They showed a difference in the intentions of both Ellhora and the gods compared to widely accepted recorded history. I’m guessing you can’t remember them due to a mixture of your young age and allowing Alec to look at your visions using his gift.”
“And what were their intentions?”
“Ellhora wasn’t the loving and selfless creator history has claimed her to be, and the gods were simply trying to fulfill their destinies.”
“What does that mean?”
“We don’t truly know. You only had those few fairly vague visions. They made little sense to us at the time. We were able to piece together that the gods are siblings, and that Ellhora was the greedy and destructive one, with a particular hatred for Mattyas. We hoped you would have more visions to fill in the blanks, but you never did. Until the emerald, confirming the gems’ existence.”
“After Locane took me, I had another vision of Ellhora. She was the one who poisoned the willowbane tree, not the gods. Why would she do that?”
Nana takes a deep breath, considering her answer. “I would guess that she would have poisoned the tree in an attempt to keep her siblings from gifting magic to the people of this world, transferring it through the tree as they were meant to.”
I pick mindlessly at the fabric of my dress, a wave of relief washing over me at sharing the truths of that vision with Nana. Despite my lingering bitterness for her lack of honesty, I do trust her.
“Locane’s kidnapping of you was useless, Elly. You fought him so thoroughly, he wasn’t able to extract any information from you. Yes, he had control over you, but you managed to keep your secrets guarded from his prying mind. He was not able to compel you to tell him. He was not able to see these things in your mind, even despite your lack of in depth shielding. I know that’s no consolation, my darling girl, but I thought it important to remind you of your strength.”
My eyes spring with tears that I dash away angrily. “How do you know Locane didn’t see any of it?”
“Because Alec looked into his mind and then told me. Their power doesn’t work on each other like it does others, but Alec was able to see far enough back to around the time Locane kidnapped you, up until you returned. Locane tried to get answers from you every day and was unsuccessful.”
“Did Alec tell you everything he saw?”
“No.” Nana gives me a small hug that I don’t return.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ELLYA
After Nana leaves, my mind continues to turn over everything I know about Ellhora and the gods. Which admittedly, is very little at the current time. Digging through my still addled memory, I try to find any hint of these earlier visions Nana told me about.
I come up blank.
My brain begins to ache, so I quickly give up and curl into the comfortable pillows of my reading nook with a work of fiction. But my focus refuses to drink in the happy story of friendship evolving into love. My eyes glaze over the words and I find myself rereading the same paragraph multiple times, not absorbing anything.
My stare keeps reverting to the remaining pile of books Alec brought me—particularly the decrepit tome with foreign lettering. All my questions over the gods and the gems that I haven’t been able to bring myself to ponder on are beginning to surface after speaking with Nana, my curiosity rising and refusing to be ignored.
My cheeks puff before I let out a sigh. I finally fling the book I hold to the side in favor of the one I have no hope at reading. Standing to my feet, I straighten my modest navy dress, pulling my mass of chestnut hair over one shoulder.
After working my way across my chamber, I take the ancient text in my hands, sinking onto the edge of my bed to flip through the flimsy pages. I absorb the faded pictures, trying to glean whatever information possible from the images alone.
I learn very little.
A particular page pauses my flipping fingers, perusing it more thoroughly than the ones before. The top quarter of the page’s texture and appearance are like the wings of a dragonfly; delicately thin and holographic, shimmering from the faintest hint of cerise to deep emerald green. Rotating the page again, the colors shift and land on green when the page lies flat. The decorative heading as well as the large curling letters indicate that it’s a title page.
Looking through this particular story, I find depictions of a welcoming green forest and thriving wildlife that steadily morph and turn darker with each page. The trees become skeletal, the chipmunks and birds curl into themselves, sprouting fangs and claws while their coats and plumage lose their colors. The final page shows nothing but a gaping, black pit, effectively swallowing the setting that was once light and living. The pictures are vague and faded, and I’m unable to make any sense of their deeper meaning without their accompanying words.
Tucking the massive book under my arm, I slip on a pair of plain shoes and stride to the door of my chambers, determined to do something meaningful with my time.
Leaving the residential portion of the palace, I begin meandering through endless halls and corridors, getting turned around more than once in my search for the library. Cursing myself for not at least asking Alec where it was when he offered to show me, I consider asking someone to tell me where to go. Instead, I dig deeperinto my stubbornness to find it myself. The long walk fueled by singular purpose is having a calming effect on me anyway.
Before long, I turn down a wide hallway that ends in a pair of looming double doors, one slightly ajar. A dry breeze brushes through the open arched windows, blowing in my direction, and I’m hit with the cozy scent of parchment, leather, and the unmistakable undertones of binding glue. A satisfied grin plasters over my face at finding the library in this sprawling estate all on my own. My confident feet bound ahead, the heavy myths still tucked under my arm.
