Aria had finished the porridge. She washed her face in the basin and stood in front of the small mirror and looked at the girl with the silver eyes and told herself she was ready.
The study door was open. Rowan stood near the window, his arms crossed. Lois sat in the chair by the desk, a scroll unrolled across his knees. They had been waiting for her.
"You can sit," Rowan said. He gestured to the chair across from Lois.
She sat on the chair, facing Rowan.
They told her everything.
Rowan laid out the scrolls one by one. The oldest ones were barely legible, fragments of the old tongue, translated into his careful handwriting in the margins. The White Wolf prophecy, the signs and the dormant power tied to the moon.
"Silver white hair," Rowan read. "Silver eyes, Born of a great loss. Rej
