Summary: Descole recalls his first encounter with the Sycamores, and starts a new life.
He's 13, Layton is 8.
Theo,
Time keeps on passing by. In a few months, it will be four years since we parted – can you believe it? Would you believe it, if I only gave you the chance to remember it? I feel guilty about not writing anymore. The truth is I got tired of repeatedly recounting our life story, so I just gave up, you might say. However, now, everything's changed for me, and I need to "tell you".
Last month, a family visited the village. They wished to adopt one child, but their attempts all failed. Of course, they'd heard about me being left all alone. They couldn't believe I had been almost living on my own for three years: it was the perfect opportunity for them!
Soon, they came to our home, and I immediately felt safe in their company. The Sycamores are so kind, they truly are gentle souls. They remind me of our real parents as well as yours. Even if I still blame the Laytons, one must assume they couldn't harm anyone. I'm sure you would feel the same as me if you saw them.
We talked a lot the day I met the Sycamores – they were impressed by my intelligence at such a young age.
I immediately told them about everything that had happened to us: how we were happy during the first nine years of my life, how much Father loved archaeology, how this passion of his caused his fall and the end of our peace. I couldn't help but cry when I mentioned every little detail of our parents' kidnapping. There were soft tears, but tears none the less. It's been so long since I last cried – I felt better when it was over. Lighter. Maybe even freer? I knew I would leave this fateful house and finally spend time with new people, people who would look after me no matter what. People who would never disappear. It was time for me to let it all go and move on – I had been suffering enough here.
For two weeks now I've been living at the Sycamores' house. I still have to adjust to this new life, but I feel better. I can't remember the last time I've felt so well. I'm not far from London – I could come and visit you one day. Maybe I will, but let's not hasten anything.
By the way, I changed my mind. Moving out helped me see things differently: I now know that I will send a letter to the Laytons. A real letter. Then, time will tell whether I can arrange a meeting with you or not.
Whatever happens, I'm looking forward to the days to come. Even the air seems lighter; the sun, brighter. No more two-years breaks between my letters, I swear to you. I'll write down everything I can so I'll be prepared to show you all of this when we'll meet again.
Hershel