Page 30 of Dawn of Hope

“These are the two I know at least mention the story. I can check with Agnes when she comes in and see if there are any others she knows of.”

“Oh no, these are perfect. Thank you, Estelle.”

“My pleasure,” she smiles. “You know where to find me should you need help with something else.” She hands me the books and walks back down the aisle, placing a book from her stack back on the shelf as she goes.

I’m not trying to hide these from Dane, but I also don’t want him catching me reading them either, especially not after the conversation in the tavern. I need to read them. Maybe finally getting the full story will help put an end to this myth distraction. I need to focus on actual information, not hope from a children’s book.

I find an empty window seat and plop down on the fluffy, colorful pillows. I wish my room had something like this because I would spend every spare minute in it. I curl my legs under me and pick up the larger book.

The brown leather cover is worn down at the edges, having had its fair share of readers over the years. I hope whatever is inside will give me what I need.

Opening it to the first page, my eyes dance over the swirled handwritten script. I flip through the pages, my focus catching on colorful sketches and pages of written words. There have to be at least thirty stories in here.

I would have loved this book as a child.

Turning back to the table of contents, I scan it quickly, hoping what I need jumps out at me. I start to question Estelle’s memory until a title at the bottom of the list catches my eye.

Finally, someone who knows books as well as Edmond.

The Island Draught.

This has to be it. I flip to the right page and see that there is very little writing, and absolutely no sketches. I scan the words spanning only two pages, but it is almost the same as the story Edmond shared with me. If this is the only information I have to go on, I could feel confident killing the idea once and for all.

I close the book, setting it down on the seat beside me and open the next one.

I turn the pages more slowly, taking my time with the delicate paper. This book is so old, it feels like it is going to fall apart in my hands. There is no table of contents in this one, so instead I turn every page, reading the titles and hoping Estelle was right again.

This text is much more designed for children than the last, each page illustrated with faded color drawings. There’s far less written in this one, and some have no words at all.

I turn another page and my breath catches in my throat.

Finding Dawnlin.

Yes. This is it. Maybe this has the answers I am looking for. Maybe this will point me in the right direction and tell me where to find this land of advanced healers. My eyes scan the spread, searching for the story, but am stunned to find that there are no words.

Instead, the story is told in the pictures. My eyes eat them up, trying to take in every detail. Hopefully there is a map, or some clue I can use to find Dawnlin on the maps in the castle.

The first picture is of a child kneeling next to the bed of what looks like a sick parent. The child has tears running down his face, but is looking up at a healer, hope written across his features. But the healer looks solemn.

My heart breaks for this poor fictional child. I know the feeling that comes with being told there is nothing left to do for a parent, and realizing you will lose them.

I blink rapidly and turn the page to find the child on one side, walking through the streets of his town, tears still streaming down his face. On theother, a hooded man is kneeling in front of him, speaking to the boy and reaching out to take the child’s hand.

Is that The Guardian?

I turn the page again and the scene is completely different, lighter. The child is running and playing with his healthy father, while a hooded figure watches off in the distance.

I flip the next page, holding my breath and hoping for some text, but my eyes meet the title of the next story.

I quickly turn back and stare at the last page.

That’s it? There’s nothing else? No directions, or hints even? How the hell is this story about finding Dawnlin at all? I check the seams to see if any pages had been removed, but the binding is completely intact, and there is no evidence of any torn edges.

I stare at both the books in disbelief. This can’t be the only evidence of Dawnlin in the entire kingdom. These few pages and faded sketches are the only pieces of information to lead anyone to the myth.

My disbelief morphs into anger.

What a terrible thing to do, to give hope that the story actually could be true enough to be written and saved for years, only to leave the reader expecting a magical hooded person will show up and whisk them away to the magical healing solution. But there’s no evidence of how, or what actually happens, only a requirement to blindly trust?