The Enchanted Five

Book 1 Chapter 10

Ari stayed in the library long after the sun dipped behind the hills. The room had grown dim, shadows stretching across the stone floor, but she barely noticed. Her mother’s journal lay open in front of her, the loose page with the prophecy placed carefully beside it.

Five daughters. Five bloodlines.

If they rise, Morgana falls.

She traced the words with her fingertip, her chest tightening. The pendant warmed again, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. Every time she touched the page, the warmth intensified. “This can’t be a coincidence,” she whispered. She flipped through more entries, searching for anything she’d missed. Her mother had written about old clans, hidden histories, and something she called the sealed line. Ari found sketches of symbols she didn’t recognize, circles, crescents, runes that matched the ones etched into her pendant. The deeper she read, the more her stomach twisted. Her mother hadn’t been researching folklore. She’d been documenting a warning. Ari leaned back, rubbing her temples. “What were you trying to tell me, Mom?” The library creaked softly, as if answering.

“Ari.”

She jumped, turning to see Bram standing in the doorway. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes flicked to the journal, the loose page, the pendant glowing faintly on the table. “You’re still here,” he said, stepping inside. “It’s late.”

“I lost track of time,” Ari admitted. “There’s… a lot in here.” Bram approached slowly, hands clasped behind his back. “Moira said you found something interesting.” Ari hesitated. “My mom wrote about a prophecy. Something about five daughters and a woman named Morana. And Sorcha. And… I don’t know. It feels important.”

Bram’s jaw tightened just barely before he forced a calm smile. “Old Highland stories,” he said lightly. “Folklore. Tales meant to scare children into behaving.”

Ari frowned. “This doesn’t read like a bedtime story.”

“Most folklore doesn’t,” Bram countered gently. “People used stories to explain things they didn’t understand. Storms. Disappearances. Family tragedies.”

Ari studied him. “You don’t believe that.”

Bram’s eyes flicked away. “I believe you’re tired. And overwhelmed. And reading too much into old ink.”

The pendant pulsed again, as if disagreeing. Ari swallowed. “It feels real.”

Bram’s voice softened. “Ari… sometimes the past looks bigger than it is. Don’t let it frighten you.” But she wasn’t frightened. She was curious. And something deep inside her, something older than she could name, whispered that this was only the beginning.

Later, in her room, Ari curled up on the bed with her phone. The moment it rang, her shoulders relaxed. “Hey, sweetheart,” Thomas said, voice warm and familiar. Ari exhaled. “Hey, Dad.”

“How was your day?”

She hesitated. “Strange. I found something in Mom’s journal. Something big.”

Thomas went too quiet.

Ari continued, “She wrote about a prophecy. Five daughters. Five bloodlines. Something about Sorcha fleeing because it was starting again. And a woman named Morana.”

Thomas’s breath hitched, but he masked it quickly. “I see.”

“It doesn’t feel like folklore,” Ari said softly. “It feels like she was warning me.”

Thomas closed his eyes on the other end of the line. “Ari… your mother loved you more than anything. She wanted you to understand who you are. Where you come from.”

Ari’s throat tightened. “Then why didn’t she tell me?”

“Because she wanted you to find the truth when you were ready,” Thomas said gently. “And because some things… some things are easier to write than to say.”

Ari blinked back tears. “Dad… what does it mean?”

He hesitated, the longest pause she’d ever heard from him.

“Read the letter,” he said finally. “The one in the box. Your mother wrote it for this moment. It will explain more than I ever could.”

Ari’s breath caught. “You knew?”

“I knew she left you something important,” Thomas said carefully. “And I knew you’d feel when it was time to open it.”

Ari pressed the phone to her chest for a moment, overwhelmed. “Dad… what if this prophecy is real?”

Thomas’s voice softened to a whisper. “Then follow your heart, Ari. It’s never led you wrong.”

Ari closed her eyes. The pendant warmed again. And somewhere deep in the castle, the wards trembled. After they hung up, Ari pulled out the wooden box she’d carried for years. Inside lay the envelope she’d never been brave enough to open.

For Ari — when the time is right.

Her hands shook as she unfolded the letter.

My dearest Ari,

If you are reading this, then the moment I feared and hoped for has come.

You have begun to feel the pull of the past.

The truth is waking.

There is so much I wanted to tell you, but I could not risk it while you were young.

Some truths are too heavy for a child to carry.

You come from a long line of women who were not just keepers of stories, but protectors of something far older.

Our family is part of a prophecy, one that has shaped the Highlands for centuries.

You are the first of the Five.

Not the oldest.

Not the strongest.

But the spark that wakes the others.

You will not be alone, even when it feels like you are.

Trust your instincts.

Trust your heart.

And trust the ones who stand beside you, even if they don’t yet understand their place in your story.

There is danger in what is waking.

But there is also a purpose.

I love you more than words can hold.

And I believe in you, Ari.

I always have.

— Mom

When she finished, Ari pressed the letter to her chest, tears slipping down her cheeks. The First of the Five. Her mother had known. Her father knew. And now… she knew too. The pendant warmed again, steady and sure. Ari Thorne wasn’t just reading the prophecy anymore. She was part of it.