The Blackwood library was a labyrinth of scent and silence, a place where the dust of centuries-old treaties settled like snow. It was Cassian’s sanctuary, yet tonight, it felt occupied. The silence of the Blackwood Library was not a void, it was a physical weight. It smelled of vellum, cedarwood, and the metallic tang of old ink, a scent that usually acted as a balm to Cassian’s frayed nerves. But tonight, the air felt charged, as if a thunderstorm were brewing between the mahogany shelves.
As Cassian entered, he didn't see a child at first. He felt a presence, a weight of authority that shouldn't belong to someone so small.
Tucked into the velvet shadows of the history alcove was Leo. The boy didn't look up from the massive, leather-bound tome sprawled across his knees. He looked less
