I lean back in my chair, the old wood creaking beneath me, and let the silence of the room press against my mind. It's the kind of silence that only exists in the early hours, when the world hasn't quite woken up, and the air feels heavy with secrets. My fingers, long and pale, trace the edge of the newspaper in front of me, an item I haven't bothered to read until now. The headline catches my attention, as if it has been waiting for me, patiently, all this time.

"Mysterious Heir to the Arklings Family Makes a Dramatic Return—But Why Now?"

I run my thumb along the paper, the faint rustle of ink scratching at my ears. It's all too familiar. The words swirl in front of me, but they don't matter. Not really. I've been in the public eye for years—my name whispered in the dark corners of this world and the next. But even so, this article feels different.

Heir.

The word tastes strange on my tongue. Heir to what, exactly? A bloodline steeped in shadows, a family bound not by love but by power. My father is a figure of influence, a man of quiet authority whose name people fear to speak aloud. Or rather, they speak it only in hushed tones, as if afraid the walls might be listening.