CHAPTER FOURTEEN
My fingers fly across the parchment, the quill a blur of motion as I transcribe the ancient texts for Richard. It's a tedious job at times, but in these moments of focused work, the rest of the world fades away. The only sounds in the room are the scratch of my quill and the crackle of the fire in the hearth. The scent of ink and old paper fills my senses, grounding me.
"Skye," Richard's voice breaks through my concentration, "you're working as if the fates themselves have set a deadline upon you."
I look up, offering a small smile. "It keeps my mind busy," I admit. His study is cluttered with books and scrolls, a testament to his life dedicated to knowledge within our secluded town of Golden Paw.
"Busy from what?" His eyes are sharp behind spectacles, always seeing to
