Thoros Myr's POV
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I led her down to the archive room beneath the war hall, the one place in the entire camp where my father's collected evidence had been kept safe for over two decades, waiting for the day it could finally matter.
Shelves of sealed letters and testimonies lit by nothing but a few flickering torches, dust thick in the air like the room itself had been holding its breath, waiting just as long as I had.
My footsteps echoed against the stone floor, the only sound besides her quiet breathing beside me.
She read in silence for over an hour, her hands trembling slightly as she moved from document to document, testimonies, sealed letters, the account of a dying elder who had witnessed the original coup firsthand, his sha
