2. Failed Decline.

"Where were you?" asked Rebekah Gilbert, her best friend with light-colored eyes, as they put away some books from their previous class, physics, in their lockers.

"Attacking Professor Jack," he replied, leaning against her locker.

"With the tomb thing?"

"Yes," he said, as they resumed their walk to their last period class, history 02. "I need the location of that cemetery."

"But Elijah, that cemetery may not be on the map. We're talking about something from over two thousand years ago."

"I know, but that doesn't mean it's not there. It's a cemetery, it has to be.

It had to be.

"And if it was, what would you look for among the bones, other than dust or nothing?" she asked, entering the classroom and leaving their backpacks on their respective desks, waving to some of his few friends.

"Well... do you remember the diary that Jack told us about?" he asked, and the blonde nodded. "According to different books, it's buried as well."

"Are you going to take it away from him or what?" she asked, and Elijah just looked at her in response. "That's not yours, it never was. Heaven knows why he went to his grave with it."

"That's what I want to know. I need to know why he took that diary to the grave, something very... I don't know, secret in there that he didn't want anyone to have it or know what's written in there."

"Because it's a diary, Elijah. And no one would like to have it read to them," she said with obviousness, seeing that Professor Logan was coming in.

"Aha, I know. But it was so private that every open-minded human being is after that diary, why is that?"

"Because they're all meddlers," she replied, and they laughed lightly.

Professor Logan began his lecture, which was entertaining, as he had a unique sense of humor. When he finished, with half an hour left in the class, he decided to give the students free time and engage them in conversations about whatever they wanted.

"Have you heard the story of the failed decay cemetery?" Logan asked with some humor, and the class nodded. "Well... from what little I've read, it's all tied to a silly diary."

"Ah... And what was the name of the cemetery?" Elijah asked, eager to resolve his doubts.

"It was on the outskirts of London," came the reply. Elijah felt a surge of excitement; it seemed he finally had the information he needed. "However, it was demolished three years ago."

Or perhaps not.

"You may have hit a dead end," Rebekah remarked, causing Elijah to slump back in his chair. "But wait, Mr. Logan..." she called out, hoping to lift her friend's spirits. She knew how much this quest meant to him, and she wanted him to succeed. "I just remembered something. What if there was a tombstone in that cemetery, belonging to a certain Melia Conkinova?"

"Melia Conkinova..." he said quietly, placing his index finger on his lips and thinking. And then, as he remembered, he spoke again: "Let me tell you a brief story," he said, settling down in his black swivel chair in front of the class. "More than a thousand years ago, in a small village outside Rome, there lived a family of three who were both hated and loved in equal measure. According to the Lord of great prestige, who was governor of several nations, Richard Ford, those who envied him were those who did not have his unlimited wealth. This caused many to attempt to assassinate him, but to no avail. His wife, Karina Conkinova," he emphasized, "was the most beautiful woman with a heart so pure that no one could hate her, only love her. She helped, cared for, and loved others like no one else, and that bothered her husband, annoyed him. He believed that no one but him deserved such affection. After several years, they had a beautiful baby girl named...

"Melia Conkinova," the classroom chanted in unison, paying close attention.

"Exactly. On the day of her birth, it was like a bull race had broken out," he chuckled. "Everyone was waiting for them to announce the birth of the heiress to her father's and mother's wealth. And of course, she was born amidst euphoric crying. They say that when she opened her eyes, they saw the most beautiful thing that had ever existed: they were dark, brown, with flashes almost like fire. So much so that everyone who saw them was reflected in every detail. Her sun-kissed skin was the perfect match for her wavy black hair and unique features. To them, she was the most beautiful baby in the world. The years passed, and Melia grew up. She was 18 years old. Everyone was happy," he counted, his enthusiasm contagious. "Because she would become the beautiful girl they had all wished for. At her celebration, everyone was laughing and dancing and singing congratulations and well wishes. But at that moment, they all fell into an almost intolerable silence, their faces filled with fear, because in front of them and in front of the birthday girl, her mother was killed with an arrow. The classroom was stunned for several seconds, wondering how a simple arrow could kill her... The tip of the arrow had a powerful poison called Lordeath, the god of death, which caused death with a speed almost as fast as a shooting star. Melia, in her inconsolable weeping, prayed that her beloved mother would not die. Richard, her father, asked the guards to take her out of the palace and into a great hut. He did not want her to witness her mother's death, nor did he want her to see him weep for his wife. To end the story, because I honestly can't remember any more, one of the gifts Melia's mother gave her was a diary lined with leopard skin, asking her to write down all her thoughts without fail.

"So... Why did she take that diary to her grave?" Elijah asked, and Logan nodded. "It's just... Something doesn't add up."

"What doesn't make sense to you?"

"The fact that she took the diary to the grave," he replied. "I know it's personal, but were her thoughts so bad or so good that they couldn't be read?"

"I can only imagine the pain he must have endured," said Logan, his voice softening. "To witness the murder of one's own mother is undoubtedly one of the most traumatic experiences anyone could go through."

The ringing of the bell interrupted their conversation, signaling the end of the class.

"Well, I suppose that concludes today's lesson," said Logan, packing up his books and shouldering his backpack. "But I must say, this has been the most intriguing discussion we've had all year."

As they walked down the hill towards their next class, Logan couldn't help but ponder what lay ahead. "I wonder," he thought to himself, "what secrets and surprises await us down the road?"