I stood over a conference table rummaging through an old wood and iron chest found deep down in the basement of the Caedmon Mansion. I was most interested in some old copper plates and several pieces of material that resembled a stretched rubbery material. The scripts written on the pieces weren't in any language that I could decipher with just one glance, but I only knew about five different languages to date. Roman, my uncle knew three times as many languages—ancient and modern. Some of the inscriptions on the newer pieces even reminded me of braille, with patterns of raised dots and various figures. I couldn't help but wonder if Roman was still alive to see these would he know how to read them.

I traced the scripts on one of the copper plates, hoping to pick up something. Anything. A tiny vibe or drop of energy, but the elders had insisted that the written material contained no powers or bottled up energy. Not like the chest and possessions of William Caedmon II did anyway, but his powers had intentionally been locked away for a reason. His energy had since been put to good use, distributed among the most trusted Caedmon council members, and because of it, our Caedmon bloodline would continue to grow stronger. We weren't a dying breed—we were just a conflicted community of shifters, witches, and humans with inherited powers. And if we remained a conflicted bunch, we wouldn't be prepared for the shit storm headed our way. I didn't know when it would happen, but one day it would happen.

"Find any spells that you can use to wreak havoc, sister?"

Dawson Caedmon was leaning against the doorway of the conference hall, his arms folded over his chest.

I had been so invested in trying to decipher the scripts that I hadn't seen or heard him come in.

"I wasn't looking for any spells. I'm not a common witch. My gifts exist within my blood." I stuffed some of the copper plates into my handbag.

"And for the record, I don't wreak havoc," I added.

He chuckled and pushed off the door frame. "Oh, but you could."

I noted the playful twinkle in his ice blue stare.

"I could and I'd rather not. What are you still doing here anyway? I thought you and Alessia had a flight to board. Destination honeymoon, right?"

"We do."

"You've been busy," I noted. "I can't believe the two of you planned this wedding all on your own."

"Well, I am the party planner of the century," he joked. "Alessia's got skills too."

"You two nailed it. The ceremony and everything were just beautiful. You stuck with the Caedmon traditions too."

"Yup," he replied. "I stuck with the tradition. I said my wedding vows on Caedmon land. I spent my wedding night in this old mansion. It was what Alessia wanted because she knew how much it would mean to me. Either way, we leave for Amsterdam tomorrow evening."

"The Netherlands? Isn't that where Alessia's dad is from?" I asked.

Dawson nodded. "Her father and I kept the destination a surprise from her up until the day before the wedding. I'll never forget the look on her face when I told her where we were going and how long we'd be there doing absolutely nothing. No work. Just play. She's so anxious to learn about her father's roots. Her roots."

"That sounds exciting. She deserves it after what her mother's side of the family tried to do to her." I sighed. "But that's life as we Caedmon know it, I guess. Bad things happen to good people for no apparent reason."

"Her story is sort of similar to yours," Dawson commented.

"Sort of. But in this case, it wasn't my aunt who wanted to kill me, it was my own mother," I replied.

Dawson looked down at the floor and the awkward silence continued between us before he picked up one of the pieces off the table.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked.

"Yeah, a message of some sort. I dated its origins back to the 1300s."

"I know it's a message, but this is animal skin." He brought it to his nose and sniffed it. "Is this what our ancestors were writing on back then?"

I frowned. "I had no idea what it was. I was only trying to read them."

"Yeah, it's rawhide. So, you can't read it?"

I shook my head. "No, not all of it, but I'm going to try."

"The elders said these treasures and things were only valuable for deriving energy from, you know, energy left behind by our ancestors."

"That's what the elders were taught to believe. Just because they don't see any value in it, doesn't mean someone else wouldn't," I told him.

"You remind me so much of Roman, you know. His home was filled with these things, some of which survived the fire. I thought he was just a packrat, but now I'm beginning to understand why he made us read every book on these shelves." He waved his arm to one side of the room at the rows of books that went from one corner of the room to the other and reached the ceiling. "I once told him that I'd be dead before I could read everything. He proved me wrong."

I shrugged. "It didn't take me long to read them all."

"Ha!" Dawson laughed. "Says the girl who knew how to read by the time she was three."

"Not entirely. I had help from the maids, the kitchen staff, and Roman, of course."

Dawson pointed to the rawhide. "This was how our ancestors communicated to each other before the Tribe became a Pack, but what do you think you'll learn from these?"

"Maybe I won't uncover anything new or Earth-shattering. Besides, history has shown to repeat itself, but I've always been curious. That's what gets me in trouble, right?"

"You've got that right. How come your powers don't work on any of these? I thought you could touch things and…you know…see things."

"My gifts don't work that way. And even if I saw something, it takes a lot of skill and knowledge to understand what it is I'm seeing. Before Roman died, I used to only be able to see the past, but now, I sometimes see things that haven't happened yet. That makes things a bit complicated on my end."

"I wish you didn't have to go through all of this, you know. If Roman were here…" A look of pain crossed his face.

"I know, brother. But make no mistake. Roman is still here in spirit. Don't talk about him like he's gone because he's not," I said.

Dawson cracked a crooked smile, but the look in his eyes remained saddened.

"When Damon and I were growing up in this mansion, Roman was all we had. He taught us everything we knew. Even when my father was gone and even with the threat of our enemies coming for us, he kept us sane. I was there when he convinced Damon to secure the Alpha position for himself. I was just a boy. Damon kept talking of these visions and saying that he wasn't meant to lead. He kept talking about bastard sons and how everything was a lie. Roman kept most of it from the other elders, of course, because if anyone saw how unfit Damon was to lead us, they would never have accepted him. Now I see…some of the things Damon told us during his fits were true. Maybe even all of them. I think he knew about Roman. I don't know how or when, but I suspect he did. After his death, it was so convenient for the elders to say that he jumped or had somehow miscalculated his climb. Damon took after our late father—he wasn't in his right mind. He wasn't fit to lead. Just like father wasn't. It was always supposed to be Roman. One thing I was certain of back then was that Damon was an expert climber. He had climbed that mountain so many times, he could've climbed it blindfolded. At least, we now have the truth—he was pushed. Priestess Shanhah had him pushed. They found him mangled up in a tree."

I stood in complete silence for a moment. Dawson wasn't telling me anything that I didn't already know before, but he was telling it in a different manner. It was said that there were always two sides to any story and that any story could be told over and over again in many different ways. It was happening now. Right here. And a light bulb went off and I thought of something I hadn't even considered before.

"What did they do with Damon after they found him? He wasn't in the family cemetery. Why?"

"In his will…he asked not to be buried there. There was a big fight over it, but Damon's written request won in the end." Dawson grimaced.

"What did they do with him?"

"They burned him."

"Why?" I asked. "It's not our custom to burn our dead."

"See? This is why there was a big fight. Roman almost gave in with all the elders arguing. And of course, we had no Alpha present to decide."

"And the ashes? What happened to them?" I asked.

"Roman told me to scatter them over the mountain. I had climbed with Damon before, but I still took a few men out there. It's just not the same as climbing trees, but I did as I was told. I took the ashes, climbed the mountain, and let them go in the wind. It was the last time I ever climbed a mountain. It was the last time I felt my brother's presence."

"His ashes are by the mountainside?" I asked, my voice low and hushed because I hadn't intended the question to be for anyone.

Dawson chuckled. "Not anymore. That was years ago. His urn was destroyed when Roman's cabin burned to the ground."

"I have to go." I picked up my bag and stuffed some more of the old copper plates and relics inside.

"Isn't that bag a little too heavy for a girl?" Dawson asked, watching me.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm a woman capable of carrying my own load."

"Suit yourself." Dawson held up his palm in defeat. "You know those aren't supposed to leave the mansion, right?"

"I know. I'll probably hear it from Devin later, so I don't need to hear it from you now," I told him. "See you later, brother."

I fled past him, but he caught my arm and pulled me back to face him. "Wait! I haven't seen you in over a month and then that was only because Devin requested your attendance at the council meeting. Are you leaving again so soon?"

"You're leaving too, remember? What? Do you want me to stick around until you get back?"

Dawson nudged me playfully. "Your mouth…"

"I wouldn't be me if I didn't give you a hard time," I said.

“I’ll be gone for a few weeks, sister. Promise you won't do anything crazy while I'm away," he said.

"You know me. That's something I can't promise," I told him. "Unless you swear to return with Dutch chocolate."

Dawson smiled. "Done."

He put his palm on the top of my head—something he always did to show affection when I was just his little kid sister. Even in wolf form, he'd used his paw instead of his hand. My brothers would never stop regarding me as the kid sister they had to protect and I couldn't do anything about it. They protected me from threats that could be seen and I protected them from threats they couldn't see. That was my duty.

Dawson looked me straight in the eyes and said, "And promise me you'll stay safe."

"As always. You do the same. And come back, brother. I may not be here waiting for you, but you know I'll always return."

He smiled and nodded. Then I let him watch as I left the room.