CHRONICLES OF EOIN AND EILIDH: Celestial Codex

WEIRDO AT THE DOOR

The attic was silent except for the rustle of paper and the occasional hmm from Eilidh.

Eoin had given up trying to make sense of the journal’s cryptic writing about twenty minutes ago. He had leaned against a crate, arms folded, watching his sister frown at the pages like she could force them to make sense just by glaring at them.

“Anything yet?” he asked, tapping his fingers against the wooden floor.

Eilidh didn’t look up. “Still working on it.”

Eoin sighed. “Any chance it just says, ‘Take this map, go here, find treasure’?”

Eilidh shot him a look. “If it was that easy, Grandda wouldn’t have locked it away.”

“Then what’s the point?” Eoin pushed himself upright, stretching. “Why write it all down in riddles?”

Eilidh’s gaze flickered over the scribbled notes again, her fingers tracing the repeating symbols. “Because it’s not just a journal.” She tapped the page. “It’s a code.”

Eilidh leaned closer to the faded ink.

There were phrases in a strange language, but here and there, she spotted familiar words mixed in:

“The Celestial Codex must remain hidden.”

“The stars will guide the way.”

“Only those of the bloodline can unlock its path.”

Eilidh’s breath caught.

“This… this is about us,” she whispered.

Eoin frowned. “How do you know?”

She turned the journal toward him, tapping a passage. “Look at this: ‘The bloodline carries the path.’ Grandda always said our family was connected to the stars. What if he meant it literally?”

Eoin crossed his arms. “So, what? We’re some kind of chosen ones?”

Eilidh didn’t answer. She didn’t know yet. But the more she read, the more certain she became—this wasn’t just an old man’s ramblings.

It was a message meant for them.

Eoin, growing restless, turned his attention to the celestial map.

At first glance, it was just stars. But the longer he stared, the less sense it made.

“These constellations…” he muttered. “They’re wrong.”

Eilidh glanced up. “What do you mean?”

Eoin ran a finger along the parchment. “See this?” He pointed to a cluster of stars. “This is meant to be Orion’s Belt, right? But there’s an extra star here.”

Eilidh frowned, moving closer. “And here—” she pointed to another part of the map, where familiar star formations were altered. “These don’t match the night sky.”

Eoin exhaled sharply. “So either Grandda didn’t know his constellations…”

“Or,” Eilidh said, gripping the edges of the map, “this isn’t a normal star chart.”

They exchanged a look.

If the constellations didn’t match any known maps…

Then what was this leading to?

A Hidden Society?

Eoin tapped the journal. “Alright. Let’s say Grandda wasn’t just a weird old man who liked collecting secrets. Let’s say this map actually leads somewhere.”

Eilidh nodded slowly. “Go on.”

“Then why keep it hidden?” Eoin gestured at the locked chest, the coded notes, the strange pendant. “Why make it impossible to find?”

Eilidh hesitated.

Because it was dangerous.

She didn’t say it out loud, but she didn’t need to. The thought hung heavy between them.

Eoin exhaled. “You don’t think… he was part of something, do you?”

Eilidh swallowed. “Like a secret society?”

Eoin scoffed. “Sounds ridiculous.”

Eilidh raised an eyebrow. “More ridiculous than a hidden celestial map, a glowing pendant, and a journal that literally says, ‘Only those of the bloodline can unlock the path’?”

Eoin opened his mouth. Closed it.

“…Fair point.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.

Then Eilidh whispered, “What if this isn’t just a mystery, Eoin?”

“What do you mean?”

She gripped the journal tighter. “What if Grandda was hiding something bigger? What if this was never meant to be found—because someone else was looking for it?”

Eoin’s stomach twisted. “You think someone’s after this?”

Eilidh didn’t answer.

But deep down, they both knew the truth.

Their grandfather hadn’t hidden these things for fun.

He had hidden them because they weren’t safe.

And now…

Neither were they.

The knock at the door was too firm. Too precise.

Eoin and Eilidh froze.

Their cottage, tucked at the far end of the village, rarely had visitors outside of nosy neighbors or the occasional delivery from the baker. But something about this knock felt… off.

Their eyes met.

“You expecting someone?” Eoin whispered.

Eilidh shook her head.

The knock came again.

This time, sharper.

Eoin moved toward the door, but Eilidh grabbed his sleeve, stopping him. She shook her head.

Another knock. Then—

“I know someone is home.”

The voice was smooth, deliberate. A man’s voice, with an accent that didn’t belong to their village.

Eoin’s jaw tensed. Slowly, he unlatched the door and pulled it open just enough to see who stood outside.

The man was tall, sharply dressed, his coat buttoned up against the wind. He had dark, watchful eyes and a scar across his jaw.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” he said, inclining his head slightly. “But I was hoping to ask a few questions about your grandfather.”

Eilidh had moved beside Eoin, her hand clenched into a fist.

“Our grandfather?” Eoin asked, keeping his voice casual. “He’s been gone a while now.”

“Yes,” the man said, smiling thinly. “That’s unfortunate.”

Eoin forced a shrug. “Not sure how we can help you.”

The man studied them. Too long. Too intently.

Then, he reached into his coat.

Eoin and Eilidh tensed—but instead of a weapon, he pulled out a small notebook. He flipped it open.

“Your grandfather was known for collecting rare artifacts,” he said. “Old maps. Strange books. I happen to be… interested in such things.”

Eilidh’s stomach twisted.

The journal. The map. The pendant.

They were still upstairs, hidden beneath their bed. But this man—he was looking for them.

Eilidh forced a smile. “We wouldn’t know anything about that. Grandda liked telling stories, but that’s all they were. Stories.”

The man tapped a finger against his notebook. “Is that so?”

Eoin folded his arms. “Yeah. That’s so.”

The man exhaled through his nose, studying them again. Then, after a long pause, he smiled.

“My mistake,” he said smoothly, snapping his notebook shut.

He stepped back from the door.

“Should you remember anything useful,” he said, tone polite, but with an edge, “I’ll be staying at the inn.”

Then he turned and walked away, boots crunching against the gravel path.

Eoin and Eilidh waited until he was out of sight.

Then they slammed the door shut.

“That wasn’t normal,” Eoin said immediately.

Eilidh was already pacing. “He knew exactly what to ask. He wasn’t just guessing—he knew Grandda had something important.”

Eoin ran a hand through his hair. “And if he knows that, how long before he figures out we have it?”

Eilidh swallowed. “We need to be careful.”

Eoin nodded slowly. “I think Grandda was right to hide everything.”

They stood there, hearts pounding, realizing the full weight of what they had found.

This wasn’t just a family secret anymore.

Someone wanted it.

And that meant they were in danger.

That night, Eilidh couldn’t sleep.

She lay awake, staring at the wooden beams above her, listening to the distant sounds of the village.

Eoin was asleep in the bed beside hers, breathing steady. But Eilidh’s mind was racing.

Who was that man?

How much did he know?

And more importantly—how long before he came back?

She sighed, turning onto her side. That’s when she noticed it.

A faint glow.

Eilidh sat up.

The pendant—the one from the chest—was lying on the bedside table, its stone faintly pulsing under the moonlight.

She stared at it.

That had never happened before.

Carefully, she reached out, touching the metal.

The glow brightened.

Her breath caught.

Then—Eoin shifted in his sleep.

Eilidh snatched her hand away, heart pounding.

The glow dimmed.

Eilidh sat there, staring at it, feeling a strange chill crawl up her spine.

The pendant was reacting to something.

But what?

And why now?