Where the Blood Lies

Previously

…I had survived. I had faced the Weaver, the architect of my family’s destruction, and I had, in my own way, brought his reign to an end. The journal lay beside me, its pages filled with the secrets that had haunted us, the truth that had nearly killed me. The scars, both visible and invisible, would remain. But they would not define me. They would be a testament to the strength I had found, the resilience I had forged in the crucible of unimaginable loss. The blood of my family might lie in the past, but their memory, their love, was the light that would guide me forward. And I would carry it, not as a burden, but as a beacon, into the uncharted future.