Evaline:
The afternoon sun filtered through my bedroom windows in soft golden sheets, the light warm but not enough to ease the heaviness inside my chest. My fingers moved automatically as I scrolled through the pages of yet another soul-death report, the characters blurring for a moment before sharpening again.
Dates.
Times.
Locations.
The exact same conditions.
The same chilling conclusion stamped across every medical file:
No wounds.
No energy loss.
No poisoning.
No curse detected.
Cause of soul absence... unknown.
My jaw tightened.
Unknown.
Unknown.
Unknown.
Every file mocked me with the same answer.
Just then, the bedroom door opened with a soft creak.
I looked up.
Rowan stepped in, the soft thud of his boots muffled by the carpet. He carried a tray in his hands with two glass cups, steam rising in gentle swirls from the herbal tea inside them, and a bowl filled with salted potato chips.
