~Valeria~
The symbol of a crown and thorn carved into my nightstand had been staring at me for three days now, and I was slowly losing what was left of my sanity.
I'd tried everything. Googling it led to dead ends about ancient royal wolves. Asking my mom resulted in blank stares and suggestions that I was "staying up too late."
Even trying to sand the damn thing off my furniture had failed, the marks just kept reappearing, deeper each time.
It was like my own personal thriller movie, except instead of a creepy stalker, I had mysterious visions and a piece of furniture that apparently had trust issues.
"Valeria, breakfast!" Mom's voice drifted up from downstairs, all sunshine and false cheer.
I dragged myself out of bed, feeling like I'd been abused by rogues. Sleep had become this
