The Sword of Fire

I’m writing this letter to you because I’m feeling tired and I’m not sure how much longer I have. There is no easy way to say what I must say, so I’ll just write it down — I know you’ll be strong enough to handle it. You’re a Donovan.

I am your sister, Lea, and our father was not like other men. He was born at the end of the nineteenth century and well over 120 years old when he died. I know this is hard for you to understand, but there it is.

He wasn’t born this way. He often told me he wasn’t one of ‘them’, whatever that means. He never explained. He told me they were a kind of cult, and used some strange Greek word to describe them. He said if I knew more it would frighten me too much.

As a young man, our father travelled on a medical research expedition to find a cure for malaria but he found something else — a water that kept him young. He drank some and it extended his life. You ask why he never shared it? He said it was too dangerous. Too much or too little brought not youth, but an even faster death. He told me he wished he’d never tasted it. He regretted it his whole life. I felt so sad for him.

You have probably seen the little gold statue I left behind. Father called it an idol. He gave it to me many years ago for safe keeping. He said the cult didn’t know about me so they would never find it. He told me he found it in Italy during an expedition there in the 1920s. He spent his life searching for more but never found any.

He told me the idols were the key to everything but they don’t belong to the cult. They belong to something much more ancient and deadly that the cult doesn’t understand. He refused to tell me more because the knowledge was too dangerous.

Don’t think badly of me, sister. I wanted to tell you about these things, but father made me promise to keep it to myself and let him tell you in his own time when you were a grown woman. Now you are grown, he is dead and I am dying. Now is the time for me to tell you.

You need to understand that our father was not a bad man. He kept these things from you only because you were too young to understand. He wanted to keep you safe. He loved you. I know it was his intention to tell you everything he knew when you grew up, but then they murdered him, as I think you know in your heart.

Only you can continue the search that cost him his life.

With love, my dear sister,

Maggie