[Day 7, Dec. 26 – Wintermist Island]
Octavia
“You wrote the book?” Raven’s voice cut through the cold air, sharp with surprise, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, the icy wind swirling around us.
Her posture was immaculate, but there was a keen, almost predatory quality to her gaze as she studied me, her eyes calculating every movement I made.
“Yes,” I admitted, my voice steady despite the turmoil bubbling in my chest. Anxiety coiled inside me like a tight knot, but I refused to let it show.
“I did.”
Raven’s lips twitched into a smirk, her breath forming little clouds in the freezing air. But her eyes never wavered from mine—there was an unsettling sharpness in them, as if she could dissect me with a single look.
“Well, that explains why no one’s complained about the book
