Chill bumps rushed over my skin as I slowly dropped to my knees and reached for the book with trembling hands. The moment my fingers brushed the cover, a sharp pulse of something cold and ancient curled through me. I flinched but didn’t pull away. Instead, I turned it over in my hands, my heart thundering as I read the faded lettering on the cover. Veyrith. My mother had read it to me as a child, a collection of myths and old stories passed down through the ages, a book I once believed to be a mere fairy tale. But it was a book from her own childhood, her home. It was a history buried beneath
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