Page 8

SIX

MARA

T wo days later, the Gossamer Grimoire looked like a hurricane had torn through its usually pristine interior.

Books lay scattered across every surface, their pages marked with scraps of paper covered in Nico's precise handwriting.

Ancient texts that normally resided in climate-controlled cases were spread open on reading tables, their parchment pages weighted down with crystals that hummed with preservation magic.

The air itself felt thick with accumulated knowledge and the kind of exhaustion that came from months of obsessive research.

Nico stood in the center of the chaos, his elegant fae features drawn with fatigue as he gestured for Griff, Mara, and Tilly to settle themselves wherever they could find space among the literary debris.

Aerin and Leo had arrived moments earlier, their expressions grim as they surveyed the evidence of whatever truths Nico had spent seven months uncovering.

"I apologize for the state of the shop," Nico said, his usually cultured voice rough with sleeplessness. "But I needed to cross-reference genealogical records from seventeen different supernatural archives, and some of these texts haven't been opened in centuries."

"What exactly were you looking for?" Aerin asked, her academic instincts clearly engaged despite the circumstances. She'd brought her own research materials, tablets and printouts that documented the supernatural disturbances spreading across the continent.

"Proof," Nico said simply, settling into the chair behind his usual reading desk.

"Proof that what we've been told about the founding of Mistwhisper Falls, about the bloodlines and the binding and the entity contained beneath the falls, was carefully constructed fiction designed to hide a much more dangerous truth. "

Tilly, who had been unusually quiet since their encounter with the shadow beings, suddenly looked up from the ancient tome she'd been examining.

The six-year-old could read three languages fluently and had an unsettling tendency to understand magical theory that should have been beyond her comprehension.

"The books are angry," she announced matter-of-factly. "They don't like being lied about for so long. They want to tell the real story."

"What kind of real story?" Leo asked, his law enforcement instincts clearly on high alert.

Nico opened what seemed to be a ledger bound in leather so old it looked like it might crumble at a touch. "The story that begins with the fact that there were never three founders of Mistwhisper Falls. There were four. And the fourth one didn't die or disappear or fade into obscurity."

He turned the ledger so they could all see the page he'd marked, revealing a property deed signed in four distinct hands.

Three of the signatures were familiar from local history: Helena Whitaker, Garrett Halloway, and Silvane Beaumont.

But the fourth signature, written in script so elaborate it was almost unreadable, belonged to someone whose name had been systematically erased from every official record.

"Mordaine Ashglen," Aerin breathed, her face going pale. "But that's impossible. I'm descended from Mordaine. She was exiled, that was why she was removed. Leo and I knew the story, what more can be hiding? She created the betrayal sigil and its purpose as we know it."

"You are descended from Mordaine," Nico confirmed. "But she wasn't exiled, Aerin. She was consumed. Absorbed into something that wore her face and used her knowledge to infiltrate every subsequent generation of supernatural communities across the continent."

The temperature in the bookstore dropped several degrees as the implications of Nico's words sank in. Mara unconsciously moved closer to Griff and Tilly, her protective instincts responding to the threat that was becoming clearer with each revelation.

"You're saying the entity we're dealing with isn't just some ancient evil that was bound beneath the falls," Leo said slowly. "You're saying it's been actively masquerading as one of the founders for centuries. So, Aerin’s ancestor didn’t really die but is still alive?"

"Not masquerading," Nico corrected. "It became her.

Absorbed her consciousness, her memories, her magical abilities, and then used that stolen identity to position itself as a trusted member of supernatural society.

Not only that, it absorbed other faces as well.

Every supernatural community that's suffered cascade failures in their protective systems, every group of founder descendants who've mysteriously disappeared over the past century, they were all targeted by something that knew exactly how to gain their trust."

Griff felt his bear stirring uneasily as pieces of a horrifying puzzle began clicking into place. "That's why the shadow beings recognized it as someone who had seemed friendly at first. It wasn't just mimicking human behavior, it was using stolen memories of actual relationships and genuine care."

"Precisely." Nico turned several pages in the ledger, revealing what appeared to be correspondence between the original founders.

"According to these letters, Mordaine Ashglen was the most powerful of the four founders, specializing in protective magic and entity containment.

She was also, by all accounts, genuinely devoted to creating a safe haven for supernatural beings fleeing persecution. "

"So what happened to her?" Mara asked, though, from her expression she knew it was going to be a terrible answer.

"She encountered something that was older, hungrier, and more patient than anything the founders had prepared for.

" Nico's voice carried the weight of someone who'd spent months piecing together a tragedy that had been unfolding for generations.

"An entity that didn't just want to escape containment or cause destruction. It wanted to replace the very people who were trying to protect others from creatures like itself. There’s an ancient record I found stating that after her shifter mate died, Mordaine disappeared. "

Tilly stood up from her chair, her amber eyes wide with the look she got when her magic was processing information beyond normal comprehension.

"It's still here," she said, her voice filled with absolut certainty.

"The thing that ate the lady with the pretty name.

It's been pretending to be someone we trust, someone who's supposed to keep us safe. "

"Who?" Leo demanded, his hand automatically moving toward his weapon despite knowing that conventional arms would be useless against this kind of threat.

But before Tilly could answer, Nico was already turning to another section of his research, pulling out a collection of official town documents spanning nearly eight decades.

"Municipal records, council meeting minutes, property transfers, birth and death certificates," he said, spreading the papers across his desk.

"All of them showing subtle alterations, all of them bearing the same magical signature. "

Aerin leaned forward to examine the documents, her enhanced fae senses allowing her to detect magical traces that would be invisible to others.

"These alterations aren't random," she said, her academic training taking over despite the personal implications.

"They're systematic, designed to obscure certain bloodlines while highlighting others.

And the signature..." She trailed off, her face going white with recognition.

“But wasn’t it proven that Dr. Vasquez was behind this?” Aerin asked, frowning and growing pale by the second. “How did I not see that there could be someone else…”

Nico shook his head. “It can’t be just the doctor. It can be anyone else.”

"The signature belongs to someone who's had access to official town records for decades," Nico confirmed grimly. "Someone in a position of trust and authority, someone whose magical abilities would be above suspicion."

The silence that followed was broken by the sound of knitting needles clicking in a rhythm that was both familiar and suddenly ominous. Everyone in the room turned toward the bookstore's entrance, where Elder Ruth Blackthorne stood framed in the doorway like a figure from a nightmare.

But this wasn't the kindly elder they all knew and respected.

This version of Ruth moved with fluid grace that was entirely wrong for a seventy-eight-year-old woman, her dark eyes holding depths that seemed to contain starlight and shadow in equal measure.

Her knitting needles moved, and it hurt to look at directly, weaving something that definitely wasn't a protective charm.

"Hello, children," she said, and her voice carried harmonics that made every magical being in the room recoil instinctively. "I see you've been having such interesting conversations about ancient history."

Griff's bear exploded toward the surface, but before he could shift fully, Ruth's knitting needles flicked in his direction and invisible bonds wrapped around his limbs, holding him motionless with the kind of binding magic that shouldn't have been possible for any single practitioner to wield.

"Now, now," Ruth said chidingly, stepping fully into the bookstore and closing the door behind her with a gesture that made the lock click with supernatural finality.

"Let's not have any unpleasantness. We have so much to discuss, and I'd hate for anyone to get hurt before I've had a chance to explain how proud I am of all of you. "

"You're not Ruth," Mara stated, her voice steady even with the magical pressure that was making it difficult to breathe. Her herbal magic was crackling around her fingers, but Ruth's presence seemed to be interfering with her ability to access her power fully.