ZURI

The ink had smudged beneath my wrist again. I’d been writing for so long that my fingers had begun to ache, yet I couldn’t stop. I barely slept a wink, and at the second crow, I had become restless.

The candlelight flickered across the desk, the flame trembling with every gust that slipped through the half-open window. Every few seconds I stared down at the paper, unsure if the words were enough, or if they could even begin to tell Tyr everything that had happened here.

My hand ...