FREYA’S POV
In the dimly lit study, I immersed myself in my father's legacy. His books, filled with annotations and dog-eared pages, whispered secrets of his tireless pursuit. The air seemed to break with a sense of anticipation, as if his spirit lingered, urging me forward in my quest for truth.
I traced my fingers over the faded leather covers, feeling the weight of generations of knowledge within them. Each page I turned unveiled a new layer of mystery, propelling me deeper into the surrounding my father's untimely demise. It was as though he had left breadcrumbs of his own, guiding me toward the answers he sought in life.
The urgency of my purpose grew with every revelation I uncovered. The words on the pages seemed to come alive, revealing the intrigue that connected me to my fathe
