“Here,” she said, tossing it to Claire. “Take a look if you want. I brought all their journals with me.”

Ignoring Gryphin’s clacking protests that she’d stopped petting him, Claire caught the book and flipped it open. It was filled with strange symbols and lots of scribbles that she supposed were letters. The handwriting was spiky, seeming to crackle and snap unexpectedly like a dry log. Squinting, Claire thought she could make out a familiar name.

“Does this say Malchain?” Claire asked, and when Sena nodded, curiosity trickled through her. “Why are the Malchains mentioned in your parents’ journal? Did they know each other?”

“Not sure,” Sena admitted as she pulled the end of her braid out of Gryphin’s beak, “but that’s not about Aquila and Anvil Malchain.” She pointed to the scribble before it. “It says Alloria Malchain.”

Claire frowned. “Have I heard that name before?”

“Yeah, you have,” Sophie said, cracking open an eye. She was stuffed between Claire and the back corner of the cart, where she had leaned her head to try to take a cat nap. Apparently, sharing dreams with a unicorn wasn’t the best way to get sleep. Purple crescents outlined Sophie’s eyes, making her face seem narrower than it actually was and her freckles washed-out. Stifling a yawn, Sophie continued. “Alloria Malchain was the most talented Forger in Arden’s history. She was the one who helped Martin and the unicorn craft the path between the well and the fireplace.”

Sena frowned. “I didn’t know that story.”

Sophie nodded. “And she forged the Kompass that directs to the moontears.”

The moontears. Claire’s heart squeezed whenever she thought about the Great Unicorn Treasure that was now, most likely, hanging around Estelle’s neck, waiting for the touch of a unicorn’s horn to awaken them.

“Sophie,” Claire said as a horrible thought stabbed her, “if Estelle already has the last unicorn, do you think she’s already woken the moontears?”

Sophie shook her head, “I don’t think so. I kind of feel like, you know, I would know.”

Maybe. And yet … But before panic could really set in, Nett gently tugged the book out from Claire’s hands.

“I can’t believe you can actually make sense of this, Sena,” he said, holding the book so close to his nose that he was in danger of smudging the ink. “It might say Alloria Malchain, but honestly, it could also say ‘Alchemical maturation’ or even ‘All of our mittens.’ ”

Sena snorted. “Why would my parents write about mittens?”

Nett shrugged. “Their fingers were cold? They were working on fireproof oven mitts? They were sharing knitting— No, stop!” Nett broke off with a yelp as Sena jabbed a finger in his ribs and began to tickle him. The commotion excited Gryphin, who immediately launched himself onto Nett’s head and began flapping his copper wings, trilling happily.

“Quiet back there!” Thorn said from the front.