LIANA
The air in the room was thick with a musty scent, a mix of aged paper and time-worn leather. I stepped further inside, my fingers trailing along the edges of the maps pinned to the walls. The symbols etched across them tugged at something buried deep in my memory. The jagged crescent moon, the same one scarred into my skin, stared back at me like a challenge.
I pressed my palm against it, as if by touching it, I could make sense of the chaos in my head. The map wasn’t just a record; it was a tapestry of the clans. My clan.
My family.
A journal sat on a nearby desk, its cover worn and corners curling with age. It called to me, and before I could second-guess myself, I flipped it open. The handwriting was precise, each line a testament to the care of the writer had taken.
Entry 1
