Page 39 of Crowned In Venom

The scent of damp stone, of old parchment and spilled ink. Not the sickly-sweet stench of before.

I exhale, slow. This part of the chamber is different.

Less… alive.

Less wrong.

I move carefully, my fingers tracing along the cold stone wall, my steps quick but deliberate.

The chamber is not empty.

Desks are scattered in no clear order, parchments strewn across surfaces, some crumpled, some half-burned.

I run my fingers over the wooden surface of a table, pausing when I see it—the thing that will change everything.

A book.

Not a tome, not some grand spellbook filled with horrors, but a simple ledger.

Its cover is dark, smooth leather, worn with years of handling.

I flip it open.

My breath catches.

Names.

Not just names.

Debts. Promises. Betrayals.

A record of every noble, every merchant, every warrior who has ever owed the clan something.

Or who has ever wronged him.

I run my fingertips over the ink, my pulse quickening. This is leverage.

Power is not always held in steel.

Sometimes, it is held in ink and secrecy.

I scan the entries, searching for something that matters.

And then I see it.

A name I recognize.

A name that should not be here.

Eryx Tathorin.

I still.

The breath leaves my lungs too fast, too sharp.

Tathorin.

I know that name.

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