Timothee took the paper, after reading its content, his jaw tensed as if he had just heard the drums of war. "Who threw this in?"
I gave my head a firm shake. "I didn't check it."
"Tend to your arm cut by the broken glass. I'll be out now."
"No," I whispered, gripping the edge of my nighties until my knuckles turned white. "I won't be tended to while danger prowls in the shadows. If you step outside that door, I'm with you. We face what comes... together."
The urgency in my voice felt like a distant echo in the vast expanse of our shared determination.
Timothee’s eyes softened, a stark contrast to the rigidity that had taken over his posture.
"Listen," he began, his voice laced with an intensity that made the air around us crackle, "You possess a gift, one that's as beautiful as
