Snow blanketed the city rooftops as I stepped out of the Hearth’s carriage, the cold pressing in sharp and immediate. The Royal Archives rose ahead like a monument to time itself—quiet, heavy, and watchful. Its towers faded into the sky, old stone holding more stories than anyone alive could remember.
I pulled my cloak tighter around me. Behind me, Harroway stood without a word, his silence something I’d grown used to. Lately, he didn’t speak unless there was something worth saying. But even when quiet, his presence never left me alone with my thoughts.
“You really think you’ll find your answer in some forgotten scroll?” he asked, low.
“I think the law remembers what people prefer to forget,” I said. “And courts are full of convenient amnesia.”
The doorman opened the door before I reac
