FREYA’S POV
I found solace amidst the shelves of my father's personal library, a sanctuary of knowledge and memories. It had been my refuge since his untimely demise, and as I walked through the rows of books, my fingers gently trailed along the spines, as if seeking guidance or hidden answers. The weight of unfinished business pressed upon me, a constant reminder that my father's killer remained at large.
Countless journals had passed through my hands, their contents scrutinized with pure determination. Yet, the answers I sought remained elusive, slipping through my fingers like elusive shadows. Frustration mingled with the sorrow that still lingered within my heart. How could I honor my father's memory if I couldn't bring his murderer to justice?
As I turned another corner, a book cau
