Aurora’s POV
The numbers looked harmless at first. Just a string of digits, scratched into the margin of an old photograph like an afterthought. But Clara and I had learned the hard way that nothing in my family history was harmless.
We sat on the floor of the west library, knees almost touching, books spread around us like fallen shields. The fire had burned low, turning the air copper and dry. Outside, the mansion slept. Inside, my heart refused to slow.
“Read them again,” Clara said, her voice tight.
I did. Latitude. Longitude. I whispered them like a prayer I wasn’t sure I believed in.
Clara’s fingers flew over the map, tracing coastlines, skipping towns, stopping, then stopping hard.
Her breath caught.
“It’s the shore,” she said. “North of Blackwater Bay. There’s… there’s an ol
