"Maybe I was wrong," Annie said. Inside was a plethora of strange and very old things. First Fi pulled out a dagger in a solid gold sheath studded with emeralds. "Isn't this beautiful?"

"Yeah, but look at this," Annie unwrapped a matching sword that was covered in a leather clothe and had to be at least 5 feet long. The hilt was also studded with emeralds and Celtic engravings covered the entire hilt and sheath, and Annie almost dropped it because of its weight. She quickly set down and began rummaging through the chest again.

Fi pulled out a mirror with a gilded frame and beautiful green silk dress that looked like it came right out of a Shakespearean play. A leather bag also caught her eye and when she opened it a golden tiara, also with emeralds, fell into her hand.

"Annie, this stuff must be worth a fortune. Why would Moargan have it all hidden beneath her bed like this?"

"I don't know," Annie answered picking up another treasure. Then she noticed the strangest artifact of all. Passed all the antiquities, at the bottom of the box was a leather bound book. She reached in and grabbed it, dragging it out with much difficulty.

"Fi, doesn't this look like that old spell book your aunt gave you?" she asked. Sure enough, the exact same engraving of a strangling was on the cover and it had the same brass clasps holding it closed, as if it held a great secret.

Fi grabbed it and looked at it from every angle before opening it. She had learned never to play with a spell book. When she had finally deemed it safe she cracked it open slowly, as if something would jump out at her if she weren't careful. When it was finally open what she found was an even bigger surprise.

On the first page was a painting of a young woman who appeared to be a little older than Moargan, with long dark hair and a beautiful porcelain face. Her dark eyes peered out as if they were reading her soul, and Fi felt a strange connection to her, as if they were old friends.

She turned the page and found two more pictures of young men. She turned the pages slowly, looking at each painting carefully, seeing something in each one of them that she recognized, but not quite sure what it was. As she neared the end of the book the paintings became photographs of gentlemen in clothes from the 19th century. They too possessed that strange quality.

Up to this point all but the first painting had been of young men, But when she turned the page again, she nearly dropped the book. Starring her in the face was her great-grandmother at the age of 16. Her mom kept the same picture on their mantel at home. Her grandfather was on the next page, and when she turned the page again she saw exactly what she expected to see. A picture of her father smiled at her from the year 1975, about the time he graduated from high school.

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