Makani stared at Konane for a long moment before blurting out, "You're lying!" Her heart hammered against her chest. Don't lash out. There's been some sort of misunderstanding and these people are willing to help you. Don't. Lash. Out.

Konane's brow furrowed and he exchanged a worried glance with his wife. "No, Makani," Haunani said gently. "He's not. Do...do you need to sit down?"

"Proof! Where's your proof?" Makani managed, breathing fast. She cursed her emotions for getting away from her, but Moana, having other children? No. Impossible. Makani would know about them. Moana would have told her, or her parents, or her aunt and uncle - somebody. What reason would she have to hold this secret for so long? And when had this happened? Makani was terrible at guessing ages, but Konane looked slightly older than her parents or their siblings.

Konane and Haunani glanced at each other once more, this time silent words passing between them, before Konane turned and climbed up the ladder to the crowded overhang. He rummaged around for a few moments before retrieving a small wooden box and returning to the floor with it tucked under his arm.

"Here," he said, handing it gently to Makani. Carefully, almost nervously, she lifted the lid and peered inside the box.

There were letters inside. Dozens of letters in Moana's familiar handwriting. Makani had made her grandmother write her stories when she was little so she could read them late at night, in the comfort of her own tent. And pictures, too, from before her hands had become too gnarled and aching to draw. Makani remembered hanging her grandmother's charcoal drawings from the walls of her tent to give it a more familiar feel. Makani felt tears well to her eyes as she extracted a few of the letters to read. Everything in the box was too painfully familiar.

The first one read:

Dear Konane,

How sorry I am that I wasn't there to see your first steps, or to hear your first word! At least your father is caring for you. I could always trust him. Things on this island are fine. I'll try to visit in a few weeks, under the pretense of checking on your settlement. I trust that your father hasn't told anyone your identity? My children over here are already being treated so differently...I don't want that for you, Konane. I want you to grow up happy, healthy, and normal. I hope, when you are old enough to read, that your father will share with you these letters, written when you were too little to understand.

The next letter was from years later. It read:

Dear Konane,

I am so sorry about your father. Truly, I miss him already. In your last letter, you wrote that it was sickness - what disease? Is it contagious? You aren't affected at all, are you? I will visit as soon as possible. Right now, your half sister is also sick, though not so severely, thank the gods. Maybe someday you can meet her. Them. For now, stay strong. Don't tell anyone who I am. I love you and I trust you to keep our secret.

The final letter in Makani's grasp was from about a decade ago.

Dear Konane,

You have figured it out, then. No, the man who you grew up with was not your father. Your father is much more powerful and much more well known. Your real father is part of the reason that I wanted you to remain sheltered as a child, for what child should have to grow up in such a father's footsteps? You can tell people your identity now, although I ask that you change the secret - now, I want you to refrain from telling people your father's true identity. They can know you are my child, though. Please, now you can visit me. I want to talk to you in person. These rare visits are not enough. My children grow older. My son takes the chieftainship from my deceased husband. My granddaughters and grandsons are growing up so quickly as well. You are already married. Things are happening, changing so quickly. I am so sorry...for everything. I love you, and I loved your father. But I haven't seen him since soon after you were born. Please, come visit.

Makani's hands shook as she replaced the letters. She ran her hands through the other belongings in the box. Necklaces from her island, drawings of her and her cousins, parents, and aunt and uncle. Stories about the gods and demigods.

"When was the last time you saw Moana?" she asked, her voice barely able to rise above a whisper.

"About five years ago."

Five years ago. That was around the same time that Moana's health had began rapidly deteriorating, although it was only in the past couple of years that Makani's strong, brave grandmother had been barely able to walk to the beach and back daily, instead remaining in the village, moving from tent to tent in the special chair her father had built for her.

"So, are you the daughter of the chieftain of your island?" Konane asked, tearing her from her sad thoughts.

"No. His brother." Makani wrapped her arms around herself, squeezing tightly.

"I remember - Moana had three children, correct?"

Makani nodded. "My aunt, the chieftain, my father. My aunt died around the same time that Gramma's - Moana's - health started getting worse."

"When was that?"

"Five years ago." Makani temporarily raised her gaze from the floor to Konane so he could understand that she knew the significance of this.

"And she never...never told any of you about me?" he whispered, obviously hurt.

"I'm sorry," Makani said, her voice also dropping to a whisper. She was starting to get over the pure shock of it, a million questions now crowding her mind. "How did you discover that your father had been lying to you about his identity?"

"After his death, I explored the overhang. My father was never a very open man. I suppose once one has kept secrets of that magnitude for fourteen years, they are not open to sharing much of anything.

"I found a few boxes similar to the one you are holding. They were full of letters, all in code. For years, I searched for the decoding tool, but could not find it. Finally, about a decade ago, I accidentally dropped one of the boxes and it broke open. The key to the code had been cleverly concealed underneath a false bottom. I decoded all of the letters, which went from most recent to least recent. It was only the first letter that spoke of the secret - and of the true identity of my father."

"Who was your father, truly?" Makani asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. Famous...powerful...Someone so important that Moana had insisted that Konane keep the secret.

Konane smiled slightly, dropping his gaze and taking a deep breath. His wife moved to rest a hand on his shoulder, her gaze lovingly supportive.

"My father," Konane said finally, raising his gaze and looking Makani squarely in the eyes, "was the demigod Maui."