Trinity’s POV
The scent of old parchment and aged ink was the first thing I inhaled when I woke up.
A book was flopped open across my stomach, another pressed beneath my cheek, and several others scattered around me like fallen soldiers from an all-night war I clearly lost. My neck ached. My lower back protested as I sat up, blinking sleep from my eyes. The dim morning light filtered through the curtains, casting golden shadows across the open pages.
I sighed.
Nothing. Still nothing.
Every book I devoured in the last forty-eight hours had either skimmed over the ancient bloodlines or talked in circles around myths and legends that couldn’t possibly explain what I’d done at the graveyard. Not one mention of wolves with glowing eyes or energy bursts that could level a battlefield.
And
