Claimed by my Sister's Fiancé 의 모든 챕터: 챕터 291 - 챕터 300

BRIDIE POV"Whatever this current is, it isn't gentle. Read that section again, Cormac, because I don't think I misunderstood it the first time."I passed the letter across the table, watching his expression shift as he reached the same passage that had stopped me cold.The study in the Weaving House was quiet around us, save for the soft rustle of parchment and the steady, low crackle of the hearth fire. Dawn was just beginning to bleach the eastern sky to a pale, misty grey outside the tall glass transoms, but inside, the easy warmth of yesterday’s celebration had evaporated entirely."The boy's touch scorches wood without flame," he read aloud, his brow furrowing as his voice dropped into that grim, measured register he used when assessing a skirmish line. "Three barns lost in as many months. The village blames him openly, and his family fears for his life.""That's not a frightened community misunderstanding a gentle gift," Isla said, leaning over Cormac's shoulder, studying the l

BRIDIE POV"His name is Torvin. He's nine years old, and he hasn't been allowed to touch another living thing without gloves since the second barn burned."His mother, a thin, exhausted woman named Freya, delivered the detail with a flatness that spoke to months of carrying grief too large to fully feel anymore.The interior of their cottage was dim, draughty, and smelled of stale broth, wet hearth-cinders, and scorched wool. Outside, the marsh wind rattled the dried bladder-skin across the small windowpane, casting pale, watery light over the earthen floor. Every wooden surface within reach—the table legs, the rough bench, the corner of the low cupboard—bore charred black gouges, as though iron pokers pulled fresh from a forge had brushed against them.Torvin himself sat apart from the rest of his family in the furthest corner, small and hunched on a three-legged stool, thick gloves of boiled steer-hide covering both hands even indoors. His knees were drawn tight together, his chin tu

BRIDIE POV"Then let us teach him. Not exile. Not containment. An actual chance, the same chance five other frightened children have already been given at the Weaving House."I said it into the hall's uneasy silence, stepping forward across the damp flagstones to stand directly beside Torvin.The braziers hissed against the draught, throwing long, trembling shadows of the council elders up against the damp timber walls. Torvin shrank closer to my hip, but he didn't pull away, his small chest hitching with shallow, hitching breaths as he stared at the floor."And if he burns something else while learning," the hostile council member pressed, leaning heavily over the scarred table, his knuckles white against the dark grain. "Who answers for that damage.""I will," Freya said, stepping out from the shadows of the doorway, her voice steadier now than I'd yet heard her. She held her chin high, the trembling gone from her hands, replaced by the stubborn, ferocious courage that only a mother

BRIDIE POV "This one's different from anything Wynn's catalogued so far. The letter says the current doesn't show as light at all. It shows as sound."I read the report aloud to Cormac as our cart rolled toward a modest coastal village two days south of Ashgrove.The road wound along the salt cliffs, where the brine-heavy sea breeze whipped through the yellow gorse and ruffled the coarse wool of our travelling cloaks. Below us, the pale green surf churned steadily against dark grey sea-stacks, the rhythmic crash of water on stone an easy companion to the creak of our wooden axles.We found the family easily enough in a low-roofed stone cottage overlooking the boat slips—a fisherman and his wife whose daughter, a bright, curious girl of about eight named Elowen, had apparently taken to humming almost constantly since infancy. It had seemed an ordinary enough habit for a contented child, until the humming had begun, quite without her meaning it to, calming entire rooms of frightened or

BRIDIE POV "You've reorganised the same shelf three times this week. I don't think that's about the archive's filing system anymore, Wynn."I said it with open affection, finding her in the Weaving House's small library, Cael's own careful handwriting visible in the margin notes of several recently borrowed texts.The room was cool and smelled of dried lavender, clean linseed oil, and old vellum. Outside the tall leaded windows, late-autumn leaves of crisp amber and copper were drifting across the grass, but Wynn seemed entirely fixated on a neat row of leather-bound treaties from the coastal marches, nudging the third volume an eighth of an inch to the left before frowning and sliding it straight back.Wynn's cheeks coloured, a vivid, traitorous pink creeping up from the collar of her high-necked wool tunic. "He's simply a thorough correspondent.""He rode two days to deliver a letter he could have easily sent by courier," I said, grinning, leaning against the polished cherrywood do