The morning fog hung heavy over the frozen flagstones as young Milo hurried away, his oversized sheepskin coat flapping against his thin shins.
Left alone before the locked merchant stalls, Elara remained perfectly still in the biting wind. The emerald wool of her winter mantle fell in clean, sharp folds around her boots, her hands poised calmly over the dark leather notebook resting in her grip. Around her, a circle of wealthy traders watched from behind their wooden counters, smirking under layers of beaver pelts and polished guild pendants, convinced that an outcast Omega could do nothing against their combined wealth.
Elara untied the worn black ribbon binding the small volume, letting the cold breeze rustle through pages covered in neat, iron-gall script.
"Let us review the histori
