The words were half-faded, but she could make them out.
"Here stood the House of Myrr, guardians of the Veil."
Veil.
That word had once been in her father's journal. The one Evelyne burned.
House of Myrr?
She crouched, her hand pressing to the base of the plaque where something had been carved into the stone. A shape. A crescent. And...
An arrow through it.
The same symbol.
She whispered aloud, "What were you trying to tell me, Father?"
A sharp crunch behind her made her rise fast.
A figure stepped from behind the tree, dressed in the simple tunic of a groundskeeper. But his eyes...his posture...were wrong. Trained. Measured.
"You shouldn't be here," he said. His voice was low, but there was a flicker of familiarity in it. "They'll think you remember."
"I don't," she said, standing straighter. "But maybe I want to."
He looked around, then tossed her something. A small bundle, wrapped in cloth.
