My folded legs twitch into parallel lines as I try to calm down my rapid blinks. A grunt comes from the south pole, and I hold myself up by elbows to see that one of my feet actually hit Dylan at the jaw.
I cringe slightly and mutter a sorry before steering my gaunt leg in the other direction. My brother rubs his jaw while my eyes widen as they set themselves upon the dressing table near the four-poster bed.

Allison puts her foot down from the dressing while Ethan waits for her to land before doing so himself.

"How..."
The rest of my words stray away in my throat as swift steps resound from the corridor.

"Heavens, why is this room open!" Ms Bragge enters the room in her usual long skirted dress and wire-tight hair bun. She looks back and forth between our frozen figures.

My lips part, but she holds up a hand and says,
"I don't want to hear it."
Her hand falls to her side as she picks up her skirts and leaves the room.

Allison's leg that was stuck mid-air falls down while Ethan tumbles along, as well.
Dylan and I also brush ourselves as we straighten up.
Though, Dylan's gaze is somewhere else; it is at the centre of the room.

The journal lies open, but not with the handwriting I expected.
But with Henry's own.

But I thought Matthew wrote the last entry...
Does that mean he can copy handwritings?

I look closely at where my brother is gazing but his eyes are not on the journal: they are on the crumpled daffodil next to it. His back arches downwards as he puts the daffodil back into the journal; a petal falls to the floor as he closes it. His fingers glaze against the journal's spine as he turns around and advances forward, without a single glance towards any of us.

The cousins and I remain stuck in our positions till Dylan stops at the doorframe and whispers:
"Aren't you all coming?"
With that, he leaves the room with the rest of us following suit: I in the centre with Allison and Ethan at my sides.

We tread across the same vintage table and the same classic painting, but, instead of turning to our usual route, Dylan's feet twist to the opposite direction. His sudden change of course surprises me, but I decide to not protest; I just don't have the energy left. My usual straight shoulders hunch a little as I stride forward.
Allison gives a single shoulder shrug while Ethan only flips his hand.

There is a seating break in between the corridor; it having more space at its back for not compromising with the corridor space.
Two single seaters are at the poles, upon one of which Dylan sits, with a single double seater sofa at the middle.
The sofas are adorned with golden-twisted lines and leaf-pattern blue cushions. The same blue of Mum and my eyes.

I used to come here all the time but now, a nostaligic weight drops in my chest. Allison and Ethan's shoulders brush against mine, forcing me back to reality.
They sit on the larger sofa while I rest myself of the one opposite Dylan. His back is arched forward with his elbows resting on his spread knees; his thumbs carress the journal's cover.

My spine falls back of the sofa with my arms locked on my chest and one leg on top of another.

The cousins exchange a look with each other before focusing on the two of us. Even the breeze coming from an open window stifles the air.

Dylan falls back in his seat with his left fingers under his chin, looking at the window.

The way he looks at the window almost makes sweat scar the side of my forehead.

"Henry... lad... you can't..."

Henry's limp figure flashes in my eyes, forcing me to look away from my own brother.

For a second there..., it almost looked like I was seeing Dylan... no- he's right here with me. It's not possible.

A cough erupts from the double-seater and I see Ethan raising his right brow at me. Instead of my reply, he is greeted by Dylan's.

"Henry never answered two questions: What happened when he first rejected Meredith? And only one Knightley survived in 1890, not two."

Before I can process anything, Allison glides in, saying:
"There were four lines to the poem Henry cited:
'Vows shall be tested,
Bonds shall be questioned,
Friendships shall be challenged,
For only one has to toll through East of Eden to reach the gardens of heaven.'
What if those four lines refer to the four of us?"

She's been asking more questions, today. Not that it's bad, but I wonder...

The journal spirals out of from Dylan's hands and onto the coffee table at the centre. It flips throw a whirlwind of ceramic pages till it reaches the very end. I catch a glimpse of the previously placed daffodil before it reaches the very last page.

This time, Henry's writing is painted across the empty canvas.

"I'm afraid that I am only at the labour of telling two questions. One shall be left out as I am only allowed to foreshadow the future, not foretell it."

I crease my eyebrow at this, saying:
"Allowed? You actually follow someone?"

"I only follow what I have faith in, Lindsey."

"Meredith first expressed her sentiments by leaving an arbutus on my study table. I know because there was a miniscule scroll attached to it with her initials 'M. M. M'.
I answered, a few days later, with a striped carnation with my initials on the same scroll."

Everyone stares at the words before looking at me for flower symbolism explanation. I slightly shake my head and sigh,
"Arbutus symbolises I only love you while striped carnations mean rejection in the gentlest way possible."

Dylan releases a short breath while Ethan blinks a few extra times.
A small smiles plays on Allison's face before vanishing too soon.
I, on the contrary to their expressions, only lower my gaze to see new words formed on the journal.

"As for Ms Crimsom's question, yes- the poem refers to all four of you.
It is now your doing to find which line is whose.

"Also, whatever happens, no harm can come to you in Edenfield."

What?

Four lines, the four of us?

By the expression on everyone's faces, it looks like they are wondering the same.

Allison taps her right cheek with her fingers. The fingers slip themselves to the corner of her mouth.
"I guess you're not going to answer Dylan's last question, now."

The journal remains silent; no new words appear.

Dylan presses his hands together just as the grandfather clock strikes give times. Each bell lasts longer, at least for me.

What is with this clock and the number five?

"I have some stuff to do, and it's pretty late. Your parents would be worried." Dylan glances towards the cousins before straightening himself. The wooden floor echoes with his footsteps as he takes off with long strides.

Ethan shrugs at Dylan's sudden departure and gestures at Allison. Her irises travel towards him before saying,
"I'll catch up with you."
The finger that was on her mouth now moves to her lap.
Ethan presses his lips in a straight line before standing up himself.
"You sure?"

Allison waves a hand at him.

After uttering a swift bye to the both of us; the corridor soon resounds with his steady steps.

That's strange...

"What's wrong?" my mouth says without thinking.

Allison jolts up a little at my inquiry but steadies herself soon.
"Nothing, it's just... something unimportant..."

"It isn't unimportant if it's bothering you, Al," I pull my hands into my lap while she her shoulders droop.

She stays quiet for a few more minutes before decinding to voice her concerns,
"My parents, they just... They want me move back to their home. They said that my place is there, now that I'm older. I just don't how that house is my home when I can't even stand it for in the weekend."

I furrow my brows, "Have... have Mr and Mrs Ingram said anything about this?"

"No, I asked my parents, and they said that Mum and Dad don't even know of this. Heck, even Ethan doesn't know," her tongue slips from Aunt and Uncle to Mum and Dad.

"They're saying that it's better I move back in before I become a burden or something like that to Mum and Dad, but I'll graduate from school at eighteen. It's just three more years and I'm off to university. I... don't know what's better now..."

So, that's why she's being inquiring more. Maybe, she just wants to get her head off things.

I tuck back a loose strand that was escaping from my face and breathe out,
"Talk to Mr and Mrs Ingram, and let them know what your parents are thinking and what you want.
Houses aren't necessary, Al, homes are."

She blinks a few times as my words settle in in her own self and also, me.

Where did that come from?

A storm thunders from outside, making us both snap our head towards the open window.
My lower body springs up to close the window before any rainwater can come inside.

I turn back and see Allison cringing as she looks down at her phone,
"It's five thirty! I have to go now."
She quivers upward and before she can bolt right in front of my sight, I yell out:
"It's a lightning storm outside, for Percy Jackson's sake!"
Another strike of lightning booms from outside.

Looks like Zeus got his lightning bolt back.

I should not have thought of that.

Dad...

It's actually weird, though, how much he loved the Percy Jackson series even in his thirties.

"Then how am I going to get home, now!" Allison exclaims

"One word, two syllables: Alfred. He'll drop you off if it's urgent; otherwise, I am not letting you go out in this storm."

"But-"

"No buts," I hold out my index finger at her.

She considers my offer for a few seconds before nodding with a weary expression.

The next half an hour is spent with calling Alfred from the other side of the house, Allison apoligising continuously to him, and then seeing her off.

After the car has rolled into the driveway, I walk back inside and put my umbrella back in an iron-wrought-cylindrical pot. I'll have the cobblestoned doorward cleaned up, later.

My now sore feet stop walking next to the staircase leading to the attic. From where I'm standing, I can see some light coming from the attic.

Nothing can happen to you in Edenfield.

I stare at the steps, debating whether or not should I climb them.

Here goes nothing...

Another flash of lighting cackles, camouflaging my steps as on the red carpeted staircase. A chandelier with globe-like lights dangles above me. The staircase and the hallway is exactly the same; if you just ignore the light coming from the attic, that is.

As I lean in to see from the ajar door, a scene totally opposite to what I imagined presents undrapes itself.

The loose floorboard has been pulled out, and there are dozens of letters sprawled in front of Dylan. He sits with folded legs as he picks up and reads one of them.

I wonder if unlocking the fourth memory has anything to do with seeing those letters...

I almost want to call him out. But after seeing that smallest of smiles on his face, I just can't.

I sort of feel like this after finishing the fourth memory:

Hello everybody! I hope everyone's doing alright!

So, in this chapter, we see what's been bothering Allison for some time and also those 'letters' Dylan found? Like what's up with that? ;)

And I've been a bit busy these days with preparing for my finals(in late May) and some other stuff.
Even if I don't inform through my ANs, I ALWAYS keep y'all in the loop through my message board.
If you want to ask anything, then just comment here or take a look at that.

Plus, I watched Beauty and the Beast in the cinema and it's just... wonderful. It was ethereal.
I think the last time I was this awed was by the Fantastic Beasts movie.
The songs were fantastic and the new ones♡♡♡
I think I almost cried when Belle pushed Maurice out of the cell. And let's face it, Gaston stole the show XD

And we have now reached 1000 votes...

Like how's that possible?

This is also why this chapter is dedicated to none other than my dear friend and fantastic author, . Her profile is the epitome of historical fiction and fantasy awesomeness. CHECK IT OUT!!!

Btw, I recently(recent part not so true) joined an account called . This profile is dedicated solely to the the hisfan genres(that's what we're collectively calling Historical Fiction & Fantasy).
I'm the Absolem(editor) of that account, meaning the grammar nazi version of a smokin' blue caterpillar.

We've released some content, so check it out if you've the time. :)

Also, who's participating in Camp NaNoWriMo?
It's my first ever, and my goal is to 15k words for this novel.
Not much, but it'll warm me up for July and November. Plus, I've been a little low on motivation, and this is the only event to get my lazy bum to work XD

P. S. There aren't any Oxford commas here. Only those ands have a comma that serve as a coordinating conjunction.

(This is one of the main reasons why I'm the editor) XD

I hope y'all have a fabulous week, and here's today's question:

Any ideas about Dylan's letters?

Love,
MS Zame