(Isla)
I took the next book from Caius and rested it beside the others.
It looked no different from the rest.
The cover was worn, the corners softened by years of careful hands. The pages looked just as old as every record we'd opened that morning. Yet I found myself wondering what piece of the story it had been holding all this time.
I'd come here expecting to learn about my abilities.
Instead, I was learning about the wolves who had carried them before me.
Somehow, that felt even more important.
I opened the book carefully.
The handwriting was different again.
Another writer. Another generation. Another wolf who'd seen something they couldn't fully explain. I found myself wondering how many of them had walked away believing they'd witnessed a single strange moment, never realizi
