“Don’t you dare touch that scroll, Sienna.”
The voice cracked like thunder through the archive chamber.
Her fingers froze midair, inches from the brittle parchment spread across the obsidian desk. The candlelight trembled, as if even flame feared the tone. Slowly, she turned. No one stood behind her. The air, however, pulsed , alive, heavy, aware.
“I’m not here to destroy,” she whispered, though her heart was hammering. “I just need to understand.”
The chamber responded with silence first… and then a sigh, the kind that carried centuries of regret. Dust drifted from the rafters like falling snow. The voice returned , deeper this time, fractured, almost animal.
“Understanding cost me everything once.”
Sienna straightened. Her midnight hair slipped from her hood, silver strands catch
