The library beneath Stormborn’s keep smelled of dust, parchment, and the faint, lingering scent of old magic. The chamber was vast, carved from the stone of the mountain itself, its towering shelves filled with records that spanned generations. Flickering torchlight sent shadows dancing along the stone walls as Layla ran her fingers along the brittle spines of ancient tomes, their leather covers cracked with age. Some books were bound in wolfhide, others had iron clasps to protect their fragile contents.
She hadn’t intended to come here, but after what had happened with Selene and the growing fracture in Stormborn, she needed answers. The prophecy spoke of unity, of destruction, but history had a way of repeating itself. And Layla needed to know how it had played out before.
A heavy volu
