The book didn't provide a single solution. The Moon Goddess's diary, despite being a direct address to her daughter, was just ramblings of her painful pregnancy. Bedridden from dawn to dusk. Excruciating agony all night long. Being pregnant with a Direct Descendant was as good as sentencing Selene to death by torture.
Ophelia read to a page that stopped her dead in her tracks. Layla's fingers trembled as she read the passage aloud.
"...you are my true daughter, the only creature I'd value and treasure. All those that come before and after you are cheap imitations of you. They've named that wretched and mangled beast Roselind, but what good does the girl have? She possesses none of my magic, none of my powers. Not a strand of silver runs through her scalp, not a droplet of amethyst in those eyes. All that comes before you are failures."