Atticus stood at the top of the stairs watching me until I stepped through the threshold. I close the door quickly, already guessing that it will be mere minutes before my guards are back at their post in the hallway.
I don't even bother sitting down. I stand there frozen, my eyes the only thing moving as I take in the intricate gold lettering and details on the cover of the book in my hands.
A half-crescent moon sits just above the elegant script of the title. I can't help my fingers as they trace over the letters as if trying to somehow connect myself to them. It has to, somehow, connect to me. My body is practically vibrating with a combination of nerves and excitement, hoping that whatever lies within these pages, will be the answers I'm seeking.
I can tell when I open the book that it hasn't been read in a while. The pages stiff but easily move for me. There is no author name, I note, searching the first page for any type of publishing details that normal books have. But there is none - only two blank black pages and on the third, an intricate image.
I stare at the painted woman as she balances on the crescent moon like a hammock. Her long, light-colored hair flowing like a river past her shoulders and a slit in the dress that leaves one toned leg completely bare.
On the bottom of the page is a large black wolf sitting tall, its nose pointed high in the sky as if trying to reach the woman's fingers. It reminds me a little of the painting by Michaelangelo Creation of Adam.
This must be the Moon Goddess that Caspian has mentioned. I sit carefully in the chair by the window, my fingers skimming over the woman's face as if to memorize the small details. She's classically beautiful, like one that would be seen on an old greek statue in a museum, with a tranquil expression on her soft features. Even in the artist rendering, there is something about her, something powerful that seems to leap off the page, as she lay against the moon above her wolf.
The need to see what these pages hold grows and I turn the page, anxious to get the answers I've been practically begging Caspian for.
My heart stutters and thuds painfully in disappointment as I look at the writing on the page. No matter how many times my eyes skim the pages, I can't get the letters to make sense.
Whatever language this is, it's not English.
Frustration and disappointment floods through me as the words begin to blur through the tears building in my eyes.
No. No!
How can this not be in English?! This was supposed to hold all the answers that I've been waiting for! All the answers that make me know for sure that I am where I'm supposed to be. No more doubt. I would have the answers that make it clear exactly what I am to Caspian and his people
I stand swiftly as my hands start to frantically flip through the pages, looking for something - anything - in English that I can understand. On some of the pages, there are more drawings of the woman from the front page but without any context from this book, it's just a woman near a wolf.
Cold hopelessness moves through my veins and hope deflates in my chest like a lead balloon as more than half the book is behind me now. I didn't realize that I had been crying until a gasp leaves my lips and the salty tears drop onto my lips.
Not only have the words turned from some unknown language to English, but it is now handwritten instead of typed.
1927 - 1952
Alexander Irons
1905 - 1981
Luna: Virginia Hargraves
1907 - 1926
Wife: Charlotte Marland
1907 - 1979
Heir: Thomas Irons
YOU ARE READING
The Luna
WerewolfA chance meeting with a naked man in the woods turns Mia's world upside down. Things she thought were only fairytales are real and the man even has a title for her. Luna. But after traveling with him back to his home, Mia is left with more questio...
