The truth came wrapped in dust and bone. Calla found it in the oldest wing of the estate—an underground archive Adrian rarely used, sealed behind iron doors and silence. Lorenzo had mentioned it in passing, a place where Valenti secrets went to sleep when they became too dangerous to remember. Tonight, it felt awake.
The torchlight flickered as Calla descended the stone steps alone. The pull in her chest grew stronger with every step, not painful—recognizing. Like her blood already knew what waited for her. Shelves lined the walls, heavy with leather-bound volumes, scrolls sealed in wax, relics wrapped in cloth that smelled of age and iron. Symbols carved into the stone pulsed faintly as she passed, responding to the silver beneath her skin. She stopped at a low table near the back. A sin
