Epilogue

“Where doyou want me to start?” Quentin ducked as he stepped under one of the ancient beams. Unable to believe he stood in the secret library.

It was dusty and smelled of old paper, and leather and other things he couldn’t place, and he was trying to act chill, but he was fairly sure Kaine knew he was anything but.

Kaine gave his hand a squeeze.

There were five desks, each separated by shelves, and the shelves were filled with books and scrolls and tablets and all kinds of things—a lot like the archive room. Only this was the phoenix’s secret library. This was where they kept their diaries.

Gerrit placed his hand on one desk. “You may only read Olier’s and Everest’s books. This is Everest’s desk. The one at the back is Olier’s.”

“I want you to read mine, but that is best left for another time,” Kaine said.

They had discussed the diaries, and while Kaine had admitted he wasn’t good at being open in person, he didn’t feel the need to keep his previous lives a secret. Quentin wished he had something to share. Around Kaine, he often felt as though he were swimming, and every time he glanced down, he realized he couldn’t see the bottom and that if he stopped, he’d sink.

Gerrit gave Kaine a sharp glance, then turned his attention to Quentin. “Lucian is coming to assist. He should arrive this afternoon. And while he can’t read French, he will find the pages we are looking for, meaning you won’t need to translate as much. I’m hoping that most of what we need is in the centuries Kaine and I can read.”

Quentin frowned. “If you’ve never read each other’s diaries, how do you know what language they are written in? Kaine writes in code.”

“You write in code?” Gerrit asked as if he didn’t believe it.

Kaine shrugged. “Only for the last six or so lives.”

“And if Everest can remember everything, he could be writing in Sumerian cuneiform.” Or Gaulish, or something he didn’t have a name for.

Could finder magic be used to assist with translating? That was something he wanted to find out.

Gerrit stepped aside and motioned Quentin forward. “You will start with Everest. I would much rather do it, but Olier’s will be much harder for you to read.”

Quentin stepped up to the desk and sat. For a couple of heartbeats, he didn’t move. His gaze scanned the shelves. The sheer amount of history, of knowledge in this room, in the castle archives. He understood why the phoenixes were buried by their own past but also why they kept it.

Why make the same mistakes over and over again when they could learn from the past?

“Do you think all the history you’ve kept will help paranormals step out into the world?” He was stalling, not quite ready to open the book. On the desk were a couple of modern ballpoint pens. Nothing special. The book was fancy, leather bound with silver corners.

“I hope so because if we can’t find the answers in the past, why have we been keeping it for so long?” Gerrit flipped open the cover of Everest’s diary. “We need to find him.”

“We need to find them both,” Kaine said. “I hope Jacob has better luck now he has something of Olier’s.”

“We need to find how Everest remembered and how to undo it because if we find him and can’t save him…” Gerrit’s voice caught.

Quentin didn’t voice his concern that Everest may not have written everything in his diary. They had enough problems without him trying to find more before they’d even started.

He turned to the first entry.

There were tear stains on the page, and his first entry was about his life being a lie and the loss of Olier. From the date, Everest couldn’t have been much older than sixteen.

What did you do, Everest?

Quentin turned the page, both dreading and hoping to find the answer.

* * *