Lily
The journey back to Black Smoke felt different from the one that had brought us to the old Anderson property. I had spent most of the ride with my father's letter resting safely inside my bag, my fingers occasionally touching the fabric as if I needed to make sure it was still there. I had spent years believing that my parents had died without leaving anything behind for me, yet now I had their house, my father's handwriting, a photograph, and more questions than I could count. Every answer seemed to open another door, and behind every door waited something that made me question the life I thought I had lived.
Caspian sat beside me, unusually quiet as he stared through the windshield. I could tell from the way his jaw tightened every few minutes that he was thinking about the man we
