The forest was eerily quiet, its silence cut only by the distant rustling of leaves as the wind carried secrets through the branches.
Princess Elowen's fingers trembled as she reached for the black book lying on the mossy ground.
It was heavier than she remembered, its ancient cover glistening faintly under the streak of fading sunlight. Her breath hitched when she turned it over and saw the symbol etched into its back. The same insignia her father once entrusted to Donato Morano.
But how? How was the book here, far from the royal archives and the castle walls? Her father had sworn it will be safe with him.
Her thoughts were interrupted by voices so low, urgent, and close.
Without hesitation, Elowen slid the book into the satchel slung across her shoulder, every motion sharp with fear.
She darted to the nearest tree, the rough bark scraping her palms as she climbed swiftly.
