Page 12 of The Last Remaining Light

A cold shiver crawled down Elowynn’s spine. Because for one terrible moment—

just one—she thought she heard it again. That distant wrongness beneath the currents. The same sound she remembered from Astermere.

Soft. Faint. Whispering somewhere deep below the world. It was familiar yet not.

Caelyn stepped closer to her, concern lining his brow, and a hand came out to touch her shoulder reassuringly. “Elowynn?”

The whisper vanished, and Elowynn blinked hard.

Comforting lantern light.

Old parchment.

Caelyn's hand resting carefully against her shoulder.

The library returned, but the unease remained. She looked back down at the faded margin note.

The song beneath the world is becoming distorted.

“What is it?” Caelyn asked.

Elowynn stared at the words. “I do not know,” she admitted, her fingers tightening around the edge of the page. “But I think whoever wrote this was scared.”

The words sat heavy between them and neither spoke for several moments.

Caelyn looked toward the chained shelves surrounding them. “You think that's why it was locked away?”

Elowynn lowered her gaze back to the page.

“I think,” she whispered, “someone wanted it ignored or maybe forgotten.”

The snow had finally stopped, and the skies were clear on Elowynn’s walk back toward the abbey proper. The sun poked through the clouds made everything sparkle; it felt magical. She couldn't stop the smile from finding its way to her face despite what she and Caelyn might have discovered. There had been no proof of anything amiss, nor did the two of them really understand their own abilities yet. Thus they had put the tome away and had made sure the lock was back in place before the two had decided neither of them would speak of it to the Sisters.

Elowynn entered the residential wing of the main building through a small side door and wound her way through the corridors toward the personal quarters. Near one of the common rooms, she found Seralyth seated beside a western window overlooking the sea with embroidery spread across her lap and a violet shawl around her shoulders. The fading sunlight cast pale gold across her mother’s face while storm clouds gathered along the far horizon.

“You seem happier lately,” Seralyth said without looking up from her stitching.

Elowynn froze briefly beside the doorway. “I am not,” she denied.

The faintest smile touched her mother’s mouth. “Mm.”

Elowynn crossed over to the hearth and sat in the chair opposite her. “I simply dislike crying all the time.”

Seralyth’s eyes lost some of their tension before she looked down at her embroidery and began to thread it once more. “That is generally considered progress, Elowynn.”

Elowynn looked down at her lap, worrying at a loose thread on her robes, rolling it between her fingers. “Sister Agatha says I argue too much.”

“She is correct,” her mother agreed.

“She also says Caelyn listens too much, but he is smart, Mama. He knows as much as I do, if not more, about the resonance charts.”

At that, Seralyth glanced up. There was something strangely knowing in her gaze that made Elowynn uncomfortable for reasons she couldn't explain.

“And what do you say?” her mother asked, voice patient.

Elowynn shrugged before a soft sigh escaped her. “He is strange.” That was her answer two turnings ago, and that was her answer now.

“Mm, is that so?” her mother gently prodded.