The letter was found in a leather satchel, buried beneath a pile of old photographs and faded documents.
It was written in Michael's hand, the ink faded but still legible. The paper was yellowed with age, the edges frayed. It had been sealed with wax, the symbol of the Hollow Punch pressed into the crimson surface.
The young man who found it was named Elias. He was Michael's grandson, the son of his eldest daughter. He had inherited his grandfather's strong jaw, his determined eyes, and his unyielding spirit.
Elias sat in the attic of the cottage in Haven's Rest, the satchel open on his lap, the letter in his hands. His heart pounded as he read the words his grandfather had written so many years ago.
My dear Elias,
If you are reading this, then I am gone. But my spirit lives on in you
