Thoren
I picked the journal back up slowly after Salas finally stopped muttering about “library indecency” and wandered back toward the history shelves to continue searching.
Nevara remained beside the large wooden table flipping through another ancient text while I settled into one of the nearby chairs with the journal resting heavily in my hands.
The worn leather somehow felt different now.
Heavier.
Like I finally understood that I wasn’t holding simple records.
I was holding generations of ghosts.
“You keep looking,” I murmured quietly. “I’m going to read.”
Nevara glanced up immediately, concern still lingering behind her eyes from earlier.
“You sure?”
No.
Not even slightly.
But I nodded anyway.
“I need to know.”
Silence settled around us again, broken only by the soft tur
