The first item Jocelynn drew from the chest was a book.
It was a small volume, barely larger than her hand, bound in cracked brown leather that had been worn soft by years of handling. The spine was broken in three places from being bent open and held flat, and the pages had the yellowed, wavy look of paper that had been turned by small fingers too many times to count. The gilt lettering on the cover had long since faded to a faint impression, but Jocelynn didn't need to read the title. She could have recited the whole thing from memory.
"The Voyages of Captain Ewan and the Lighthouse Lady," she said, holding the book up so the room could see it. "This was Ashlynn's favorite book when she was little. It was my favorite too, because she used to read it to me every night before bed."
