"This text is ancient," I said, tracing my fingers over the faded symbols in the brittle parchment. "I'm not sure I've translated it correctly."
The castle library's tall windows cast long afternoon shadows across the table where Ronan, Regina, and I huddled over the manuscripts we'd recovered. We'd been back from our expedition for three days now, working tirelessly to decipher what we'd found.
"Read it again," Regina urged, her violet eyes intense. She'd barely left my side since our return, as if afraid I might vanish—or worse, that Landon might return early and discover our secret.
I cleared my throat, focusing on the symbols I'd spent hours translating. "When the moon wept for her children, her tears fell to earth and took form. The vessel Eneara bore three of divine blood: the Hunter who runs with beasts, the Shadow who commands the night, and the Weaver who binds the elements."
