“Let’s see what you were hiding, Mom,” I whispered.
The diary felt warm in my hands again. I sat cross-legged on the bed, Ryvarn still asleep across the room, moonlight filtering through the window like silver ribbons.
I opened to the first marked entry. The ink was dark, elegant. The handwriting sharp.
And as I began reading, her voice rose inside my head like a whisper carried by wind and time.
...
Evelyn’s Journal — 200 Years Before
Evelyn’s POV:
He moved like the shadows had made room for him.
I didn’t flinch. Not even when he appeared right in front of me, coat sweeping behind like a beast’s wings, eyes glowing with that familiar crimson heat. His smirk curled as if he had expected me to run.
“I thought witches stayed in their covens,” he said, voice low and velvet-edged. “Yo
