The Porfirio family record was massive and unevenly bound together, several different papers and diaries all fit into one tome. It gave the impression a hard shake might send everything flying out onto the floor. The cover was decorated with the Porfirio name and golden scrawl, much newer than most of the pages. Every matriarch who inherited it rebound the record with her own family history included. Cyprus’s mother had showed him where she’d penned his name and first words in, though Cyprus had not been able to read them yet.
You’ll be a part of history, too, Adelphia had said, kissing the top of his head. Cyprus peeled the cover open to the frontmost chronicle and saw her captions there, along with two pinned locks of hair—his and Xan’s. His throat tightened. He quickly turned to the next part. Adelphia’s birth was announced, along with sixteen of her siblings and cousins on her father’s side.
“Cyprus, this is a lot,” Shay said, counting the sections marked along the side. “How are we supposed to get through all of this?”
“I’m not sure.” Cyprus chewed his lip. In the middle of the record was a thick ribbon, halving his mother’s history from his father’s. “The Acolytes will probably be here in an hour. We don’t even know who we’re looking for.”
–Elyan White, “Lost and Found”
The much-vaunted Harry Potter-style “finding things in books” bit. Only you can’t know what the things are yet.