Lorcan pulled his hand away from the bag made of fabric that lay unsuspiciously on his coffee table. Who would have thought that that ragged-looking old bag that looked like it was made of a piece of rag would hold so many memories?
And not just ordinary memories. It held important memories that could save their kind. The bloodlines of the witches.
Lorcan had never felt so exhausted and drained after looking through a person's memory. He didn't even manipulate it and just touched it. He just looked through Evanora's memories but he felt like he walked along with Evanora throughout her life.
Lydia looked at her husband's face which had turned pale. She worriedly reached out to his face and wiped the sweat that was slowly dripping at the side of his face.
