“I’m not unvain enough to say it didn’t bother me to grow old in the dusk of my existence. I didn’t wish to care for you all so deeply, but I did.
“Brave, bold Claire—may you grow up and remain fearless.
“Enigmatic William—hold on to your mystery.
“Cat, you nuclear bomb, in another life, I’ll seduce you.
“Ander. Survivor. You are the only man I’ve ever admired.
“And Eureka. Of course, my feeling began with you. You draw emotion from the stoniest souls.
“I summoned the Seedbearers, to kill them and to kill myself using the artemisia in the orichalcum chest. But what about Ander? you’ll be wondering. The truth is beautiful: Ander was raised by Seedbearers, but he is not a Seedbearer. He was born to an irresponsible mortal family in California with a weakness for joining cults. They were persuaded to give him over to the Seedbearers backstage at an auditorium in Stockton. And so he was raised to believe he was bound by Seedbearer laws. They needed an age-appropriate decoy, someone to blend into the background of your youth.
“But he was never one of us! And so …
“He lives!
“For some time I have suspected that something wasn’t right about him—or rather, that something wasn’t wrong—but I couldn’t be sure until the witches revealed that he saw nothing in the Glimmering.
“The witches only care about returning home to Atlantis, so their Glimmering only reveals one’s reflected Atlantean identity. Because Ander has no true lineage connecting him to the Sleeping World, he has no reflection in its mirror. The Glimmering would have killed him if your thunderstone had not protected you both.
“Ander does not belong in Atlantis, bless him. Not belonging is the greatest gift. Always remember that.
“Once I discovered my death would not kill Ander—that, indeed, my death would help you by removing the Seedbearers from the equation—I had no choice but to take the ancient plunge all my heroes have taken. Two stones, one bird, as the Poet might say. I hope I shall see him soon.”
“I don’t understand,” Ander interrupted. “If I’m not a Seedbearer, how can my breath do the same things the others’ can?”
“The Poet told me this story,” Cat said, “about quirk thieves who sneak into hospital nurseries and study babies’ magic. Maybe the Seedbearers chose you because they knew they could make your quirk blend with the things they wanted you to do.”
While the others speculated, Eureka studied the rest of Solon’s letter. After the first page, the paper stock changed … to parchment—the same parchment in The Book of Love. Here was the same cryptic writing Eureka had hired Madame Blavatsky to translate. Here were the missing pages from The Book of Love.
Enclosed are pages from your book. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner; I’ve had them all along. Years ago, I made a vow to Byblis never to share their contents. They were her deepest shame. But I think she would have wanted you to see them and know the truth.
The gossipwitches can be employed as translators. Use this envelope to find them. Make a deal. You’re smarter than they are.
You may not like what you discover. That’s the nature of discovery. Byblis was never the same after she learned the truth of her history. I can’t guess how you will handle the news, but you deserve to know.
I was never meant to be your guide. A leader is a dealer in hope. This explains my failure, and it explains why you, Eureka, must triumph.
From the other side,
Solon
P.S. The witches hold more than an understanding of your text. There is something else I bartered to them years ago. It is yours. Get it back. And then get going. You have all you need to travel to the Marais. From there, it’s up to you. Atlas will be waiting. Hurry but don’t rush. You know what I mean.
P.P.S. Do not neglect to bring Ovid! You’ll need him more than you can know. If you don’t kill each other, you might become great friends. He possesses unsuspected depths.…
22
MOTHER TONGUE