That night, Eve found herself digging through her aunt’s belongings. Old photo albums, yellowed letters, and trinkets she hadn’t seen in years.

But nothing revealed anything about her parents.

Her frustration grew with every empty box, every untouched corner of the past. It wasn’t until she stumbled across a worn leather-bound journal that her heart skipped a beat.

The initials A.F. were embossed on the cover—her father’s.

Hands trembling, she opened it. The pages were filled with notes, sketches, and half-finished plans, all written in a firm, confident hand. But it was the name she saw scrawled in the margins of one page that froze her.

Killian Dusk.