Chapter 31 #2
She could not give up all of the love she had found for the sake of proving she had been right all along. She could not take the mystery and magic and wonder away from everyone else.
And besides, Edith was beginning to think she didn’t have anything to prove to anyone.
She had found a place in the real world where she fit: at Thomasin’s side, if Thomasin would have her.
Thomasin, who had believed her without proof, who saw that she mattered, not only as a groundbreaking treasure hunter who changed the world, but just as herself.
Her quest, their quest, had been successful. Who cared if anyone else knew? Who cared if everyone else thought they were delusional, naive, stupid? On the boat, Edith had decided she didn’t need her father’s belief. Maybe she didn’t need anyone else’s either.
Edith did not have to convince the world that she mattered. She just did.
She looked at Thomasin, who was watching her with soft eyes, patiently waiting at her side. Then, she looked up at the Lady of the Lake. “I will leave Excalibur in your care.”
The Lady inclined her head, and with a final smile, began to sink back into the water.
Edith threw out a hand. There was another thing that prickled at the back of her mind, stoking her curiousity. “Wait! You said ‘others before me.’ Have other people discovered Avalon?”
The Lady paused, the surface of the lake lapping at her shins.
“I believe that will answer your question.” She gestured to the left of Arthur’s sarcophagus, where a large tome lay upon a pedestal.
Edith approached the book, Thomasin at her shoulder.
The leather cover was stained a deep blue.
There was no title, no script on the cover.
It was bound with golden thread and was as thick a book as Edith had ever seen.
“There are many paths to Avalon, and many who have sought this realm. Some want riches or fame. Some want knowledge, while others want religion, the answers to all the questions of the universe. But those who find Avalon, or should I say, those who prove themselves noble enough to find us, often realize that what they wanted was found not in Avalon, but on the path,” the Lady said, watching them with a gleam in her bright eyes as they flipped to the first page.
The first sheet of parchment was curling and discolored with age.
The ink was faded, but Edith could still make out what it was.
A letter, written centuries ago. She could just make out the name Millbrook etched at the bottom of the page in signature.
It struck Edith then how arrogant she’d been to assume that her family’s key was the only one of its kind.
It was more than possible that there were multiple families who’d passed down the true translation of Arthur’s stone.
And who knew how many copies of that key there might be?
But this realization did not sour Edith’s mood.
She was surprised to find she was not saddened by the fact that her family was not special.
Edith had made it to Avalon of her own skill and heart.
With a small smile gracing her lips, she returned her gaze to the book.
The letter spoke of Millbrook’s adventure to discover Avalon, of his journey to find the clues, and then of his decision to let it all remain hidden, to let the dream of Excalibur go.
Edith turned the page. Another letter. One after another, letters filled the book, chronicling the same adventure.
There were so many different family names.
Some repeated with new generations, while others appeared only the once.
There were even some Cambornes, her grandmother’s maiden name, sprinkled throughout.
Pride bloomed in her chest with each one.
She read each and every letter, soaking in the history, the magic of each person’s new discovery.
Edith blinked away tears as she finished the last letter.
So many people who had gotten their adventures because all those before them had decided that a life well lived and loved was more important than one of glory, of proving that magic was real.
She thought of her grandmother, who had never gotten this chance.
Edith knew in her bones that if her grandmother had been here holding this book, she would have made the same choice Edith was making.
Her grandmother would have chosen to keep the mystery alive so that Edith, and all those after her, could experience it themselves.
This shared adventure, it was a tether that connected her and her grandmother.
When her grandmother had died, wishes unfulfilled, it had felt like Edith had cut that tether in half, the edges ragged and ruined.
But now Edith was standing in Avalon, and she knew her grandmother stood with her.
With every breath, she could feel her grandmother’s presence. Knew that though she might be gone, she would never really be gone from Edith.
Next to the tome, there was a quill. Edith picked it up and dipped it into the little black inkpot.
She wrote her own letter. For whoever next believed in magic enough to make it here, to see magic become real.
Maybe it would be her children, or Marigold’s, or Jonathan’s. Probably someone else entirely.
Whoever it was, Edith hoped they would make the same decision she was making. The same decision that had been passed down from generation to generation. To let the knowledge be enough. To let love be more important than glory.
When they had been in Winchester, Edith thought there must be a group of people who worked to keep the path open, to keep it just hidden enough. The letters proved it. That there had been a chain of adventurers who had found this place, only to let it be lost once again.
Edith signed her name and became another link in that chain. Another person dedicated to preserving the path of Avalon.
Then she slid the paper over to Thomasin, held the quill out to her. “Our quest?” Edith asked softly, her heart clanging against her ribs.
It was an echo of the words Thomasin had spoken to her just before she had kissed her for the first time.
When Thomasin had said it, she’d been sure. In Edith’s mouth, the words came out like a question.
Edith had left her, and Thomasin did not have to choose her again.
But she did. “Our quest,” Thomasin repeated, her voice firm. She took the quill and signed her name next to Edith’s.
Edith lifted the sheet of parchment. In the light, she could see the ghost of another adventurer’s name lying over her’s from the other side of the page.
She returned the parchment to the book of letters, letting it join the legacy of dreams, and quests, and shrouded truths. The ancient parchment crinkled as the pages turned, and then the book fell shut with a heavy thud.
“One last thing,” Edith said to the Lady of the Lake as she began sinking below the waves once again. “Do you think Arthur is happy here? I would hate for his story to truly end in tragedy.”
There was a ghost of laughter threaded through the Lady’s words. “Oh, I believe he is content. After all, his spirit is not alone. You did encounter Merlin’s tomb at the threshold. Where did you think his spirit resided?”
Edith beamed. “Thank you,” she said to the Lady of the Lake, putting everything she was into those two simple words that would never be enough. She was thanking her not just for keeping Avalon safe, but for everything this story had meant to her.
Edith and Thomasin watched in silence as the Lady disappeared back into the lake, the waters going unnaturally still. After a long, heavy moment, Edith turned to Thomasin. “Are you ready?”
“What do you think the chances are we end up back in that cave to slowly die of thirst?” Thomasin asked.
A small laugh bubbled up from Edith’s chest. “I guess there’s only one way to find out. What do you say? One last leap of faith?”
Thomasin cocked her head to the side and shrugged a shoulder. A grin tugged at her lips. “Might as well. We’ve been lucky so far.”
Halfway to the threshold, Edith stopped and pivoted, allowing herself one last look. A wave of grief crashed against her. But it was the kind of sadness that felt right. She turned back around when Thomasin took her hand, the tight hold grounding her.
It was okay, Edith thought, to leave this place for now. To move on. The real world was enough for her. She was enough.
And Thomasin, she was everything.
Together, they stepped back through the threshold. The shadows encompassed them, and their quest fluttered to a close.