How did he answer that question?

How did Jack put that on the shoulders of someone so young? The failure, the struggle, both long before and long after Annika lived. It had been a lifetime since he'd heard that name, and hearing it spoken by her hurt. He had long since made peace with it, accepted that he couldn't change the past and undo his own mistakes. But even still, a scar could ache if disturbed just right.

For a moment, Jack didn't seem so old and world-weary.

"He was... Someone very important. That book was something he treasured, and it absorbed enough power to take on a life of its own," Jack explained. "He was a sorcerer, his magic was of right and wrong, and as far as the book is concerned, things have not been set right in a long time."

He sighed and stood up. "It wants me dead, an eye for an eye."

The windows filled with light that passed through the house, and the damn book appeared in the entrance. The door flew open, more swords appearing.

Jack extended a hand, and he made a weapon of his own. A long spear.

"Annika, go."