)

Grayson dreamt himself in a dimly lit secret passage beneath Hawthorne Hall's staircase. Jameson, just eleven years old at the time, sat beside him, both of them cross-legged on the floor, their focus fixed on a weathered piece of paper.

"No, Jamie, that doesn't make sense," Grayson muttered, pushing Jameson's face away from his line of sight. The paper had several different numbers written on it. Grayson saw the numbers as a potential key to unlocking something significant, perhaps a hidden safe, while Jameson believed they formed a hidden message waiting to be deciphered.

"Let's go back to the beginning," Grayson suggested, handing the paper to Jameson. "What do these numbers remind you of?"

Jameson examined the paper, his fingers delicately tracing the numerals etched upon it. He closed his eyes, deep in thought, searching for a connection.

"They are dates from the old man's journal," Jameson finally said, his voice filled with certainty. Grayson nodded in agreement, recognizing the truth in his brother's words. "Any idea where to begin?" Jameson asked, his eyes still shut.

"That's the million-dollar question, isn't it?"

Their grandfather had many journals, too many, but they had no idea where they were. Every week, one of the journals would mysteriously move, making it impossible to keep track. Asking their grandfather directly was pointless; he wouldn't provide them with the answer.

Lost in their thoughts, a voice came from the shadows. "You mean this journal?"

Emily stepped out from the shadows, her curly strawberry blond hair flowing down her shoulders. Grayson and Jameson's gazes were instantly drawn to her, unable to look away. She wore a smile that could light up even the darkest room. With grace, she placed the journal in front of them and settled herself between the two brothers.

"Time doesn't wait," Emily urged them, her voice filled with excitement. Grayson and Jameson, still in awe of her sudden presence, focused their attention on the journal.

"You're really something," Jameson whispered in Emily's ear, his admiration evident. "Care to tell me?" Emily's gaze met Jameson's, a smile playing on her lips. "I have my ways," she replied, her eyes returning to the journal.

Jameson carefully flipped through the pages of the old journal, his eyes scanned the faded lines and worn parchment. "It's half blank," Emily sighed softly, her eyes casting a fleeting glance at the pages before her. In that moment, Grayson's gaze met hers, reminding Emily that there was more to the journal than what met the eye. He gently brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, without Jameson looking, his touch lingering as if savouring the moment. "It's not blank," Grayson lips slowly formed into a smile. "Not for long."

Beside Emily, Jameson leaned closer, his voice low and filled with curiosity. "Emily, you don't happen to have the light I gave you, do you?" he asked, his eyes alight with intrigue.

Emily's attention shifted to Jameson, her eyes lingering on Grayson's for a fleeting moment longer. A knowing smile curved her lips, a mischievous glimmer dancing in her eyes. "You Hawthorne's and your invisible ink," she playfully remarked, a playful yet affectionate tease.

In one smooth move, Emily retrieved a small flash-light from her pocket, her arm lightly grazing against Grayson's, causing a tingling sensation to surge through him. Clicking it on, she directed its beam onto the empty pages of the journal. Like magic, the hidden ink slowly emerged, revealing its secrets. Emily couldn't contain her awe, and a gasp escaped her, followed by an infectious excitement that radiated from her. "I've seen this over 100 times," she exclaimed with a lively tone. "But it never cease to amaze me."

Grayson observed Emily as she eagerly absorbed the revealed messages. She resembled a thrilled puppy, eager to find its long-lost bone. A smile spread across Grayson's face, and he focused his attention on the pages. "The number '14' is December 6th, 1942," he shared. Emily turned to Grayson, her eyes widening with anticipation. "The final piece," she whispered to him, her voice filled with reverence. Jameson chimed in, completing her sentence. "Our grandfather's birthday."

The room fell into silence, only the sound of their breathing and heartbeats filling the air. Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed from above. "Rebecca!" Xander's voice called out urgently. "Where is Emily!?"

"I don't know!" Rebecca's voice carried a mix of confusion and frustration.

"She's with Grayson, or Jameson, or both," Thea interjected. "What's going on, Xander?"

"I might have traded the journal for a blueberry scone," Xander admitted. "I couldn't resist..."

"Xander!" Thea and Rebecca exclaimed simultaneously.

Jameson turned to Emily, a slow smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "So that's how you got it." Emily nodded, confirming Jameson's suspicions. "Touché."

Emily, Grayson, and Jameson listened intently, picking up Rebecca's descending voice as she warned Xander to keep quiet. But Xander's nonchalant plea for a scone momentarily diverted their attention. Suddenly, Xander must have tripped, causing the staircase to shake with each step, until he finally landed with a resounding thud at the bottom. "I planned that," Xander gasped, prompting Rebecca and Thea to rush to his side.

With a playful smirk, Emily reached for Grayson's and Jameson's hands. "Let's go before Bex finds me," she laughed, pulling them to their feet. With each step they took, their hands interlocked, fingers entwined.

Grayson and Jameson exchanged glances, their eyes speaking volumes of unspoken desires, and the determination to win. Emily's eyes met Grayson's, a bittersweet smile graced her lips.

And just like that, Jameson, Grayson, and Emily disappeared into another secret passage, leaving the journal behind.