RHYSAND'S POV

The silver coin lay under the harsh white light like a confession that refused to stay buried.

I turned it slowly between my fingers, the metal cool, heavier than it should have been.

The symbol carved into its surface was unmistakable now time hadn’t softened it, and neither had distance. The lines were sharp, deliberate and arrogant.

It was a mark I hadn’t seen in years, one tied to a faction that was supposed to be nothing more than ash and rumor. A faction my father ...