Chapter Twenty-Five #2
“The excavation notes estimate Skara Brae was built around 3100 BC.” Agnes tapped the photograph. “That symbol isn't just ancient. It's prehistoric.”
I gaped at her. 3100 BC was over five thousand years ago. “The person changing kelpie myths couldn't have invented the mark unless they were immortal. We considered the possibility that they were a myth. Do you know of any myths that have survived that long?”
Agnes cocked her head and frowned. “We're talking about prehistoric times.
By definition, that means it's before recorded history.
So, if anything, they would have been passed down orally.
Since we know of none, I think it's safe to say that if there were any, they have long since faded. But you could ask Caelum.”
I stared at the photograph. The implications were staggering. If the symbol was that old, then whoever was rewriting myths now hadn't created it. They'd either inherited the symbol or adopted it. Or they were an immortal that no one knew about. If myths were real, anything was possible.
I laid a hand on the book. “May I borrow this?”
“You may not remove it from the Archive. Especially now that we know books have been altered, I want to keep everything within these walls.” Agnes lifted her chin. “But you may photograph it.”
I pulled out my phone and took several pictures of the page, making sure to capture both the photograph and the excavation notes. My hands shook, so I clenched them into fists. “Thank you. This is exactly what I needed.”
Agnes studied me for a moment, her pale blue eyes sharp. “Be careful, Mr. Clarke. Symbols that old have power. Whoever's working against us, they have harnessed that power.”
She left me alone with the book. I sat there for a few minutes, staring at the photograph of the carved stone. Someone five thousand years ago had made this mark. They had understood its meaning, maybe even assigned its meaning. And now, millennia later, someone was using it again.
I needed to go to Skara Brae. áedán and I needed to see this place for ourselves, to understand what we were dealing with. But first, I needed to talk to Caelum. I closed the book and went to find him, leaving the book at Agnes's desk on my way out.
Caelum was in the garden, sitting in the grass, eyes closed and face lifted to the sun. áedán was nowhere in sight. Caelum opened his eyes as I approached and smiled as if he'd been expecting me.
“Ethan.” He got to his feet, revealing the flowers that had grown around him. “Did you find anything helpful?”
“I think so.” I showed him the photograph on my phone. “Agnes found this in a survey of Skara Brae. The site dates to 3100 BC. It's the same symbol in the folklorist's manuscript and the water.”
Caelum studied the image. His expression didn't change, but something shifted in his eyes. “It's older than me. Older than most of the myths we protect. How fascinating.”
“So, there aren't any myths from prehistoric times?”
“None that survived.”
“The changes to the kelpie stories started in 1940 and settled in 1982, so I assumed it was a myth behind it, but now I'm wondering if it's another type of immortal.”
“This is not the work of a myth. There is no myth alive who would alter another myth, if for no reason than they'd fear it happening to them.” Caelum handed my phone back. “As for other immortals, there are none.”
“Are you sure? The changes started over eighty years ago. Even if the person were young when they began, they'd still have to be at least a hundred. Possible, I guess, but not likely.”
“They could be carrying on the work of a companion, as I am.” He leaned closer. “Or, they could be simply revising old books. If they have the magic to alter a book, why would they be limited to modern ones?”
“Yes, I see your point. What stopped me from assuming that was the folklorist. He had changes made to his manuscript when he published it.”
Caelum cocked his head. “And why would that mean they couldn't have been made recently?”
“Because Ed remembers them. He remembers contacting his publisher and trying to fight them.”
“Does he?” He lifted his eyebrow. “Or were his memories altered too?”
I frowned. “There's an old lady in Luss who remembers the kelpies and their traditions. If someone altered Ed's memory, why didn't they alter hers?”
“Did she write a book about kelpies?”
“Not a published one.”
Caelum nodded. “I don't think we can rule out any possibility yet, Ethan. You shouldn't assume you're dealing with an immortal. You shouldn't assume anything.”
“You're right.” I sighed.
“What will you do now?”
“Go to Skara Brae. See if there's anything else there. Try to understand what the spiral is.”
Caelum nodded slowly. “Good, that's what I would do.”
I hesitated, then asked, “What did you talk about with áedán? If you don't mind sharing.”
His expression softened. He looked to his right, at Velas's tree. “We talked about what it means to survive while the world forgets you.”
My chest tightened. “What did you tell him?”
Caelum looked back at me. “My situation differed from áedán's.
His is more precarious. I didn't have to fight against someone working against me.
Still, I believe the same truth applies.
I told him that sometimes survival doesn't depend on being remembered by the world.” He laid his hand on my shoulder.
“Sometimes it only takes one person who refuses to let you go.”
“I told him, just this morning, that I would remind him of who he is every day.”
He nodded. “You love him.”
“Yes, I told him I was falling for him, but I haven't told him it's done, that I've fallen in love with him.”
“Why not?”
“áedán hasn't said anything about it. Right after I said I was falling for him, we were attacked by the Forgotten. I thought maybe he'd say something later, tell me he was falling for me too, but he hasn't. I don't think he feels the same.”
“Does that change the way you feel about him?”
I lifted my chin. “No.”
“Then it's real.” Caelum smiled. “Love is a powerful form of belief, Ethan. Perhaps the most powerful. But only if it's real. Unconditional. One person who loves you and believes in you is worth a thousand who believe without love.”
I'd expected him to reassure me that áedán loved me, but needed time.
His answer felt more honest, and within that honesty, I found strength.
It didn't matter if áedán loved me or not.
I loved him, and my love could save him.
If he left me later or never loved me back, it would break my heart, but not as much as it would if he died.
“I'm going to save him.” I set my shoulders.
“I know.” Caelum smiled and turned back to Velas's tree.
I left him there, his face lifted to the sun again, and went to find áedán.