PROLOGUE

The storm raged outside, wind and rain slamming against the stone walls of Caelum Manor. Inside, the room was silent—except for the steady drip of blood.

Phileo stood over the bodies of Lord and Lady Caelum, his sword slick with crimson. His long, dark hair clung to his face, damp from the rain. The job was done.

Then he heard it.

A small sound, barely louder than the storm. A whimper.

His sharp gray eyes scanned the room. In the corner, beneath a crib, a child was curled up, trembling.

A little girl.

She had golden eyes—just like her mother. Her delicate face, framed by soft brown hair, was streaked with tears, but she didn't scream. She just stared at him, frozen in fear.

Phileo exhaled. He had killed men, women, nobles, and criminals alike. This was no different. No loose ends.

He stepped closer, raising his sword.

The girl flinched, her small fingers gripping the edge of the crib. "Please…" Her voice was weak, barely a whisper.

Phileo hesitated.

Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the child's face. She wasn't just afraid. She was alone.

His fingers tightened around the hilt, but for some reason, he couldn't do it.

Boots pounded down the hall. Guards. He had no time to think.

With a sharp breath, he turned and disappeared into the night.

As he ran, one thought haunted him.

"She saw me. She will come looking for me one day."