Scorched (Phoenix Chronicles Book 2)

Chapter 10: What's in the Book?

"This one looks promising." Samson handed down a novel from the top shelf. "It has a symbol instead of a title."

Eric accepted the blue tome, the worn leather supple beneath his fingers. Weightier than the others he'd looked at so far, the aged yellow pages gave off a musty smell as he cracked it open.

"If it's only half as dull as the last twenty we'll be in luck," Eric grumbled. Samson smirked and continued in his search.

Though he'd never held it before, something about this particular book felt familiar. Even the symbol seemed to strike something in his memory. There weren't words to put to the meaning he felt, but it resonated within his soul.

The pages turned with ease, each page welcoming him deeper, giving him truth that sank down into his veins, growing roots and settling in.

"Is it any good?" Samson asked, breaking Eric from his concentration.

"What?" Eric snapped to attention, blinking. The light in the room had changed, signaling a significant passing of time.

"Is it interesting?" Samson hopped down from the stool he'd been using to reach the uppermost shelves, nearly halfway across the room from where he'd been when Eric began reading. "You've been engrossed for quarter of an hour."

"It's..." Eric held it out for Samson to see.
His Second frowned, cocking his head to the side. "It's all in symbols." He gingerly accepted the book from Eric, as though he thought it might crumble at the slightest jolt.

"But I can read it."

Samson arched a brow, turning back to the book and flipping forward several pages. "What's this page say?"

Eric read over Samson's arm, searching for the words to explain. "Guardians vary – they come in...sizes? Power is found in blood and the blood of two Ancients is stronger than a half mortal. Half mortal?"

"Like Tremaine's descendants?" Samson asked, flipping ahead again. "What about this one?"

"The mark of the—oh hang on." Eric pulled the book from Samson, heart racing as he read aloud. "'The mark of the Ancients was there in the beginning and cannot be erased. The child of two will bear the mark of the Ancients - a display of their potential power. No mortal bears the mark of...' but that can't be right." 

Eric set the book down on King Bainon's oversized desk, leaning with a hand on either side of the tome as he reread. 

"It says a mortal can't have the mark of the Ancients." 

"Yes, I heard you." Samson squinted down at him. "Why is this so important to you?"

"Because of these!" Eric held up his hands. "Because I want to know where they came from and what they mean." He pushed away from the desk, passing a hand through his close-cut hair. "I thought they had something to do with my birthmark fading."

"Your birthmark is fading?" Samson straightened, though Eric couldn't see how his Second could be anymore ramrod stiff. 

"It's almost gone.  I thought these new marks explained why." Eric flexed his hands out in front of him. "The longer I have them, the more my birthmark disappears. But this says no mortal can have the mark of the Ancients."

"How do you know that's what your marks are?" Samson glanced back down at the book on the desk, worrying his lower lip as he considered the symbols.

"Here." Eric marched back and jabbed an illustration off to the side. "Look at this and tell me it isn't what I have on my hands."

Samson peered down at the book. "I suppose. They do have the same sort of...squiggly-ish-ness."