“What scroll?” I asked.
“The scroll that gave him the names of the Guardians of the Keys to the Book of Abraxas,” said Victor, shaking his head.
“And he gave the names to Morgana?” Penelope prodded.
“Yes.”
Penelope’s eyes narrowed. “I think you’d better start from the beginning, Victor. We are completely lost here.”
The old druid nodded and got up from the bench. “Come with me.” He gestured for us to follow. “There is something else I need to show you.” He looked at Tristan. “You too, Prince Tristan. We are going to need your help for this.”
My brows furrowed as everyone got up and followed Victor out of the library. “Where are we going now?”
“You’ll see,” he said cryptically and started climbing the steps to the tower. “Once we found out what Joreth had taken and who he really was, it was too late,” Victor went on. “Dragath cast a curse over this whole island so that we could never leave or warn anyone about him.”
“That’s why the druids disappeared twenty years ago,” said Rafe, almost to himself.
“We didn’t disappear, King Rafael,” said the old druid. “We were always here. Dragath’s dark curse also kept people away from the island, and the Drakwraiths were left here to make sure no outsider ever made it to the monastery alive.”
Finally, after climbing a long winding staircase that led hundreds of feet up through the monastery, we reached the top of the tower.
The room itself was magic; I could feel it in the air as we walked through the large wooden door at the top of the stairs. The tower was built in a square and so was the room. Opposite us on the far wall hung a massive, intricately woven tapestry.
“It can’t be!” Penelope gasped aloud. “Is that the Thirteenth Tapestry?”
“Yes.” Victor nodded. He moved forward to touch it, almost in admiration. It reminded me of the tapestry in Redstone Manor through which I had entered this world.
“How?” Penelope’s eyes were as wide as saucers as she took in the elegant weave of the ancient tapestry hanging on the wall in front of us.
“For centuries we have searched for the missing pieces of the tapestry, and when we found them, we wove them back together. Brother Sebastian and I have been working on this for over two hundred years.”
I was used to people being unusually old in Avalonia, but I had to ask. “How old are you really?”
“Older than everyone in this room, young lady,” said Victor, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips, wrinkling his worn face.
Penelope stepped closer to inspect it. She hesitated, and I could see fear in her touch. “Does it still work?”
I stepped forward. “Sorry to interrupt, but can someone please tell me what the Thirteenth Tapestry is?”
Penelope turned to me, her eyes stern. “There was a time when the Ancient Fae enjoyed traveling to other worlds. For their convenience, they created twelve different magical tapestries that acted as portals or gateways into the most frequented worlds.”
I nodded in understanding. “Like the tapestry in Redstone Manor.”
“Exactly!” said Penelope. “The tapestry you came through was one of the twelve. It was thought to be the last one left, as all the other tapestries have been destroyed over the ages.”
Rafe’s eyebrows rose. “And the Thirteenth Tapestry?”
Penelope drew a deep breath. “The Thirteenth Tapestry was created out of dark magic by the same fae lord who used the Book of Abraxas to bring Dragath to this world.”
“What does it do?”
“It is the only tapestry that doesn’t lead to another world but to our own,” said Brother Victor. “Through it one can travel through time.”
“Why would he make such a dangerous thing?” asked Rafe, his eyes stormy.
“When the Ancient Fae lord realized his folly and the fact that he could no longer control Dragath or send him back, he used the knowledge in the Book of Abraxas to create a thirteenth tapestry, one that would take him back in time to erase what he had done. But before he could use it, Dragath killed him, shredded the tapestry, and took the book.”
I shook my head at this story. “Who was this power-hungry fae who caused all the problems in this world?”
The old druid looked confused, and something flickered in his eyes as he glanced at Penelope. “They don’t know?”
Penelope looked away. “No.”
“Penelope?” My eyes narrowed as I turned to her. “Are you keeping something from us again?”
“Why am I not surprised?” said Tristan, his arms crossed.
Penelope turned to look at the tapestry, her back toward us, finally resigned to the fact she could not keep this secret anymore. “The Ancient Fae lord who summoned Dragath to this world was a Nightshade.” She turned back to face us, and her gaze settled on Tristan. “Dresdaron Nightshade, the first Grand Duke of the Night Court. Kalen and Tristan’s ancestor.”
Everyone was silent. No one had expected that, even though it had been quite obvious now that I thought back on all I had learned so far. Now I realized what she meant about the Nightshade bloodline. Why she was so worried about letting Kalen meet his father. They were all descendants of the Ancient Fae lord who was so hungry for power he brought Dragath into this world. To do what he had done required a powerful magic, a darker magic than most fae would dare to wield. That magic ran through Tristan’s blood as well as Kalen’s, and that kind of power was best left forgotten.
Victor cleared his throat. “But there is one part of the story that is not common knowledge.” He looked at Penelope. “This tapestry was created by blood magic.” His eyes flicked to Tristan. “Only the blood of a Nightshade can make it work.”
Penelope backed away from the tapestry. “No, Victor! It is too dangerous. If we travel back in time and something goes wrong, everything can change. The Dawnstar could cease to exist.”
“I am well aware of the
