Chapter 125 The truth about her bloodline 2

Chapter 125: Chapter 125 The truth about her bloodline 2

Talia’s POV

The fire had died completely now, and the room was a bit dark except for the evening light streaming through the window, pale and silver.

I looked down at the journal in my hands.

"You are the last one, my daughter. The last Silvertongue in the world."

The last one.

The words pressed down on my chest, heavy and cold.

I thought about what she had written. The Silvertongues had been hunted and nearly destroyed. Their villages were burned, and their bloodline scattered.

My mother was the last of her kind at that time, and now I was the last of it.

If the wolves who hunted her found out what I was, they would come for me, they would come for Kaelen, and they would come for Blackmoor Valley.

I had spent fifteen years hiding behind a glamour charm, thinking I was protecting myself from Vivienne and Celeste. But I had been hiding from something much worse.

And I did not even know it.

I thought about my mother’s words. "The power is addictive. It is easy to use, and it is easy to abuse. If you use it too much, it will consume you."

I thought about the power I had felt rising in my chest at Stoneclaw, the way my voice had changed, and the way the wolves had frozen when I spoke.

I thought about how good it had felt. And I understood, for the first time, why my mother had been afraid.

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand and opened the journal again. I turned to the next page, and I kept reading.

"I do not know who is reading this. Maybe you, my daughter, or maybe a stranger who found my journal after I am gone. But if you are a Silvertongue, or if you love one, you need to know the truth."

"We are not monsters. Our power is not a curse, it is a gift, passed down through generations, from mother to daughter, and from father to son. We did not ask for it, and we did not choose it. But it is ours, and we have every right to exist."

"Do not let them make you ashamed of what you are."

"Do not let them make you hide. And whatever you do, do not let them win."

I closed the journal for the last time.

I sat in the darkness, with my mother’s words echoing in my head, and I made a promise.

I would not hide anymore, I would not let them make me ashamed, and I would find my mother, no matter how long it took or how far I had to go.

She had spent fifteen years hoping I was alive, and now it was my turn to hope she was still out there, waiting for me to find her.

I would find my mother, no matter how long it took or how far I had to go.

I wiped my tears, and closed the Journal.

My fingers lingered on the leather for a moment, holding on to one last touch, and one last goodbye, before I let go. The truth was inside me now, and I did not need the journal anymore.

I carried my mother’s words in my heart now, and I would carry them with me always.

I hid the Journal back beneath my mother’s trunk, then I climbed into bed and pulled the blanket up to my chin, as I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breathing.

A few minutes later, the door opened.

Kaelen walked in with a tray of food, then he set it on the desk and looked at me. His gray eyes moved across my face, and I hoped he could not see that I had been crying. Because my eyes were still a bit red, and my cheeks were still damp.

But he did not ask, so I felt relieved. Because if he did, I would have to tell him about my mother’s journal that I found, and I was not ready to share that heavy secret.

"You should eat," he said.

"I am not hungry," I said.

He walked to the bed and sat on the edge. Then he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face.

"You need to eat," he said again, but softer this time.

I stared at him for a moment, then I nodded, and sat up. He brought the tray to the bed, and I ate. There was soup and bread and a cup of tea that was still warm. He ate beside me, but we did not speak.

When the tray was empty, he took it to the desk. Then he went to the bathroom and came back with a warm, damp cloth. He sat beside me and gently wiped my face, cleaning the dried tears from my cheeks. Then he cleaned the rest of my body gently.

When he was done cleaning me up, he helped me change into a soft nightgown, careful with my wounds. Then he took his own shower while I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

When he came back, his hair was damp and his chest was bare. He climbed into bed beside me and pulled me against his chest.

He did not ask me what I had been doing, he just held me. And I closed my eyes and listened to his heartbeat.

Tomorrow, I would figure out what to do with what I had learned. Tomorrow, I would also decide whether to tell him the truth.

But tonight, I just wanted to rest. So I closed my eyes, and I slept.