His Regret,Her Revenge
I got up, walked to the table, and laid my hand on the cover.
The warmth spread through my palm, up my arm, into my chest, flooding my body with a gentle heat that felt like coming home. I felt the mark on my shoulder flare in response, matching the rhythm of the book's glow. It wasn't painful anymore. It was familiar. Comforting. Like greeting an old friend after years apart.
I opened the book.
The words were there, waiting for me.
"Your power is not something you learn. It's something you remember."