KELLY THOMPSON'S POV

Five years later...

The parchment crinkles under the weight of my furrowed brow as I scrutinize the ancient maps and reports scattered across my heavy oak desk. Midnight's cloak has long since enveloped the palace, but sleep remains a stranger to me. There's a restlessness in the air – a foreboding hum that whispers through the walls of my private study. It's the kind of night where shadows seem to slither, and the wind howls secrets only the moon dares to listen to.

A ...