Echoes of Ruin
No family to let me down, or expectations I’d never asked for—just stories.
And for a little while, stories were enough.
The fireplace popped quietly in the corner, flames flickering over the floor-to-ceiling shelves and dusty scrolls. Ember Hills library was older than history itself, shelves brimming with tomes that murmured with magic even without being read. I sat curled in the overstuffed leather reading chair beneath one of the arched windows, the letter still pressed deep in the pocket of my coat, even though I’d read it so many times the edges were frayed.