The filtered sunlight of a late afternoon in Port Haven bled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Orion Gallery, casting long, amber shadows across the polished mahogany of the private viewing room. Liam Livingston stepped toward the antique display table, his movements still carrying a ghost of a limp from the previous night's kinetic engagement at the docks. He reached out, his fingers hovering over the fragile, dark-stained bamboo slips that Daphne Davenport had retrieved from the deepest recesses of her family’s vaults.
"Is this the documentation you managed to unearth?" Liam asked, his voice low and resonant, carrying an authority that seemed to vibrate against the hushed air of the gallery.
"It is," Daphne Davenport replied, her voice soft but articulate. She stood beside hi
