POV: TristanThe Hollow was quiet.Too quiet.Not the kind that meant peace. The kind that meant something was watching and choosing not to speak.Tristan stood at the edge of the ancestral grove behind Mirabella Estate, the dagger his bloodline had passed down for centuries pressed against his palm. The weight was familiar. Heavy. Binding. The leather hilt had molded to him over the years, a ghostly handshake from every Thorne who’d gripped it before.Autumn was inside, reading the journal. Processing the truth. Grieving.And he—he was unraveling in silence.He hadn’t told her everything.He hadn’t told her about the dream.Not the one where Bastian Thorne, his forefather, stood at the edge of the Hollow, drenched in blood and holding a broken pendant. The rain fell upward; the moss grew on the undersides of leaves. Bastian’s mouth never opened, but the words slid into Tristan’s bones like cold mercury:“Love her. Or kill her. There won’t be another choice.”Tristan tightened his gri
Huling Na-update : 2025-10-07 Magbasa pa