Elsie's pov

The air in the study was thick with the scent of burning candles and parchment. Shadows danced erratically on the walls, cast by the flickering flames, giving the room an almost otherworldly feel. I, Elsie, sat at my cluttered desk, my fingers absently tracing the edge of a worn scroll as I tried to stave off the exhaustion that gnawed at my resolve. Across from me, Madriod steadfast and calm as ever leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the notes and diagrams sprawled across the table. We had been at this for hours, dissecting every detail of Mia’s condition and debating the next steps.

“Elsie,” Madriod’s...