Chapter 3 – The Knife and the SinAna The night felt unusually heavy, thick and cold, almost suffocating. The old, neglected hut my father had forced me to live in smelled distinctly of damp straw and unclean corners. Rats sometimes scurried across the floor, their claws scratching audibly at the wood. Everyone within the palace walls slept warm and safe behind strong fortifications. Everyone, that is, except for me.I sat on the edge of the broken cot, gripping the dagger so fiercely my knuckles turned stark white. The blade trembled noticeably in my hand. It wasn't because I was afraid; it was because everything inside me was shaking—my legs, my breath, my chest, and the raw power of my anger.He was the cause of this. My father. He had taken his daughter and systematically crushed her until she became something small and entirely invisible. A shadow that no one ever noticed or cared about.Tonight, that dynamic would utterly change.If he truly did not want me in his life, then he
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