Fire and Bone (Otherborn #1)(78)

I wish I knew what he wanted from me. Because however much I want to deny it, however much it sickens me, I do feel drawn to him. Like a part of me wants him too.

And I need to figure out why.

I pick up the scroll and set it in my lap. I hesitate for a second, and then I take the leap, gently pulling it open.

The script is delicate and decorative. Some of the letters are painted with colored designs: a bird or a horse or some other animal. It’s definitely old, but the ink is only faded a little, the thick paper slightly discolored.

I find the spot where a new section starts and look over the unrecognizable language. I pick up the adder stone and bring it to my face, peering through the hole.

The script shifts, the ink re-forming in the weave of the paper. Familiar words begin to appear: forgotten, punishment . . . until it’s all in English.

Seven hundred and fifty-three, anno Domini, the third earth-child born of Our Holy Goddess Brighid, first of the female line, occurred within the short summer of the lily: born, Líle ó Braonáin, of a human male. Named for the sorrow of her days to come, and the promise of a rebirth within the ashes. She is Daughter of Fire, Queen of Spark and Sorrow. Ever shall she burn.

A chill works over me as I absorb the words.

My sister’s title was Queen of Spark and Sorrow. The name sends a twist of sadness through me for some reason. I push it away and keep reading. I shouldn’t feel bad for a murderer.

In which the life of Líle ó Braonáin begins on earth: An envoy of the Holy Goddess Brighid brought across, from the Otherworld, the first female child of fire and gave the newblood as a changeling to a smyth’s widow in the south, a rare practice as it were. The babe held back the woman’s sorrow for a time, but it soon came to the widow’s attention that her daughter had many oddities, and she feared that her true child’s soul had been taken by a sprite. The human woman became aware of the glamour placed on the child, seeing the truth of what had been done to her.

And so, in the long summer of wyne, the babe was abandoned within the Caledonian wood by the widow, for she hoped that the fae would take back their trickster gift and that the gods would be appeased. But no wolf or beast consumed the child. It lay, surrounded by the arms of ash and birch, and soon was found by a humble monk of unknown title to be raised in seclusion until her twelfth year, when her Emergence began.

Three years of the demi’s life are marked here as void.

(Note here: As a matter of suspect, we believe the goddess collected her and kept her in the Otherworld for a time, but the reasons are unknown.)

It was upon her fifteenth year that the demi reappeared on the moors, near starving. She was taken in by the Church, found to be a girl of rebellious nature and stubborn of will. Many times she was chastised, to no avail. Soon she was sent by the Cast to live in a nunnery. There she would pass her most fearsome days, until she could be taught the value of balance.

(Note here: It was during this time that the first of the Great Breaking occurred.)

The demi lived in seclusion within the southern cloister for five seasons. On her eighteenth Beltane, it is thought she met with the human boy, the son of an earthly king within the southern realms. A Bond was formed in secret between the Daughter of Fire and this boy. And so it was upon the full moon of the summer solstice that the inevitable occurred; she fed from the human prince in her vicious rebellion many times but eventually lost control of the fire, killing him in a most conspicuous way. And so, to solidify her sin, in her ignorance she confessed it to the priest of those lands, allowing for the earthly king to learn a part of the truth, the most dreadful of all mistakes made in the name of love.

A punishment was established, and she was Bonded to a more powerful soul, in agreement with both deity creators, in order to contain her. Though it was a first in occurrence, the joining of two separate Houses and powers, it was deemed necessary. (Note here: See also v. VII, ch. III, within these Painted Annals.)

We know from the accounting of this first daughter, and her inability to keep her powers hidden, why the first human factions of the Church split with the Cast soon after this. Many druids were burned at the stake and disemboweled at this time, and the Christian priests only grew in strength, destroying more of our ranks. We must see and recognize here how the first crack was borne upon us. And we must understand, above all, that what was done next in the Bonding of the Morrígan and Brighid bloodlines did not end the destruction this Daughter of Fire would bring. Instead, we brought this retribution of impurity upon ourselves. Her eventual descent into that most horrifying madness was inevitable, considering what we allowed to occur.

It seems we are eternally trapped within the culture of human weakness we helped to shape.

(Note here: See a more detailed account of the first Daughter of Fire within v. XVI, ch. V, of these Painted Annals. See also “The Visions of Bartious Lucius,” in which a priest recounts her confession, and the tales of “The Vicious Flight,” though a more unreliable source, still worthy of comparison. If the collections of Time Scrolls are within access, seek those out as well, v. XII, ch. VI, of the Black Years to Come.)

I sit back, lowering the scroll to my lap. There’s more, but I’m not sure I can digest it. My heart is racing. The words read like something out of an old textbook, not like anything I’d usually be swept up in. It’s silly to let myself get so engrossed.

But it feels very real.