Osric slapped a folded piece of oilskin onto the table hard enough to make the torch flames flicker.
"Found this buried near the chapel's entrance," Osric said. "Half-covered by fresh dirt, like whoever left it wanted it hidden but not permanently."
Kane unfolded it carefully, and his stomach tightened at the familiar handwriting immediately visible on the parchment inside.
"Danil's writing," Kane said.
"He's still imprisoned," Talyn said. "How would fresh notes in his hand end up buried at the chapel."
"Unless someone's been feeding his research to whoever's actually there," Ottilie said, arriving just in time to catch the tail end of the conversation. "Or unless he's not as contained as we assumed."
Kane's jaw tightened. "Check his cell. Now."
Ottilie moved fast, and within minute
