The tower was silent, save for the occasional crackle of firewood and the ticking of the ancient wall clock.
Katherine sat cross-legged on the floor, her hands blackened with dust and ink. Her old writing desk—long untouched—creaked open at her coaxing. And there, tucked beneath false panels and bundled silk, she found them.
Twenty sealed letters.
Each envelope bore her handwriting. The same confident curve of the K. The same crimson wax pressed with a tiny sun-wolf sigil.
“To: My Fierce Sun‑Wolf," she read aloud.
Her heart stuttered.
She broke the first seal.
> *Damian—if you're reading this, I didn't get a chance to tell you in person. Council moved faster than expected. I've secured leverage on Minister Bragg via the grain tariffs. If we pressure the eastern packs, they'll fol
