By morning, I woke up feeling refreshed and full of energy. I proceeded to take another bath just for self-satisfaction. The water was as comforting as ever. I still remembered what had happened in the cave, but this time I didn't cry. Instead, I promised myself I would unravel everything, no matter how long it takes. I went into the wardrobe to pick one of my aunt's dresses to wear. She mostly ever wore gowns. The weather was cold and airy, so I looked for a long gown and, to my surprise, it fit perfectly. I was sure that my aunt weighed a bit more than me, so I wasn't expecting her clothes to fit, but luckily enough, they did.
There was a mirror right there in the wardrobe, one I hadn't noticed last night. Not that it was small or anything like that, I probably didn't notice it because it was being blocked by the countless gowns my aunt had in here.
My reflection in the wardrobe mirror stared back at me, not the girl I once knew, but someone different. Reaching for my necklace, I clenched it tightly, a silent vow burning in my mind: I will find the truth. My stomach rumbled. I headed to the kitchen to find something to eat, and luckily for me, the kitchen was stocked. I ate a good amount of bread and felt satisfied.
"There has to be a clue somewhere in the house," I said to myself, and so my search began, leaving no stone unturned. Starting from my aunt's bedroom, I searched the wardrobe to the cupboards, nothing. From the living room to the kitchen, still nothing. Now I was beginning to feel a sense of frustration. I was certain I had seen the name Leniva somewhere.
All that was left was the library. My aunt loved to read, and I enjoyed listening to her stories. Sitting on the huge couch at the center of the library, the nostalgic feeling hit hard. Standing up, I paced around the room, glancing at the books one by one. The library was huge, not too bright, not too dark, well-designed and, in all, a work of art. The faint smell of lavender incense still filled the air.
As my thoughts wandered aimlessly, I noticed something odd. All the books in the library had a specific arrangement pattern, yet one book stood out. It was alone, sitting on the topmost shelf with no other books beside it. In that moment, I recalled. That was where I had seen the name Leniva before! My aunt would read me books from every book in the library. However, whenever it came to that very book, the one on the top shelf, titled *History of Leniva *, Aunt would always smile and say, "Story for another day." Remembering my aunt's words sent a strange shiver down my spine.
The mystery still lingered, where had she gone, and why? Night had already fallen, what a day it had been. I made up my mind to stay at my aunt's house for a while, hoping to find some sort of clue. It was my only lead.
Making my way to the room, I switched off the light. Just then, I heard the front door of my father's house slam. That loud, familiar bang, my father was back. He always slammed the door after his usual drinking routine. My plan was to stay as unnoticed as possible. Still, a part of me longed to question him. I believe he must know something; it would be absolute stupidity to assume he was innocent.
The night was short. I opened my eyes, feeling more motivated than I had ever been in my life. "Today, I must find a clue, anything. A photo, a letter, something," I said, holding my necklace. Returning to the library, I climbed the ladder to reach the top shelf. Though I hadn't been formally educated, my aunt had taught me enough to navigate books on my own. With careful steps, I climbed down the ladder, clutching a large, dusty book to my chest. I walked over to the massive couch in the center of the room and took my seat.
There was something about the book, something magnetic. It drew me in like nothing else ever had, as though it were calling out to me. The cover was a deep blackish-blue, worn at the edges, with the title *History of Leniva* written in bold, cursive letters. It looked ancient, as if it had been written centuries ago. I flipped open the cover, and a cloud of musty air escaped from the pages, making me cough. The pages felt dry against my palm, fragile as though it could tear from the slightest touch. It had a scent of vanilla, a scent I fancy very much.
The first line read: "Leniva, a land of witches and wizards." My breath caught, my heart skipped a beat. For a moment, I didn't know whether to feel joy or fear. At last, I had a name to call myself. But with that truth came a flood of questions: What happened to my mother? Was my father a wizard too? Why am I here away from my homeland? The hours slipped by unnoticed. I read deeply into the book, unable to stop myself. Every page seemed to bring me closer to something, a tale long forgotten.
I felt like true progress was being made. Slowly but surely, the pieces were beginning to fall into place. I took a short break to eat, then quickly returned to reading. By noon, I was done, my body sore and stiff from sitting in one position for hours. Standing up, I stretched, my joints cracking as I moved.
A little had been learned about my origin. Leniva, a land once hidden, was home to witches and wizards and had existed for centuries. In the beginning, it was believed that only magical beings walked the earth. They lived together in peace and perfect harmony, unaware of humans, just as humans were unaware of them. But that changed.