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Chapter 255: When History Bled Truth
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Chapter 257: The Weight of Two Lives
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... red in my hands as though it resented being touched. My pulse hammered, every part of me screaming not to open it—yet my fingers moved on their own.
The handwriting. It wasn’t Papa’s.
My heart lurched. Those strokes—sharp but careful, steady even when the ink bled—I knew them. I would know them anywhere.
"Ravick..." I breathed.
After Papa, there had always been Ravick. He had been my shadow, my shield, my second father. He had taught me to hold a quill when my fin ...
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