Brynn
The Fiato kingdom had always prided itself on records. Every birth, every oath, every battle won or lost was written down somewhere, if not in the archives, then in the stories of our elders. And Frynn and I had learned long ago that stories often carried more truth than the neat ink of ledgers.
Still, the Crimson pack was different. Their history felt… brittle, rewritten, smudged at the edges. Every time we reached for a thread, it frayed between our fingers.
We had spent the better part of two weeks digging into Mia’s life there. Every source we consulted, traders, wandering wolves, even healers who had once traveled through, gave us little more than vague recollections. A quiet girl. Kept to herself. Worked hard. Niagra’s ward, Agatha’s shadow. Nothing damning, nothing enlighte
