The quiet of the evening settled over the Moreau estate like a shroud, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves outside and the distant calls of crows perched in the withering trees. Elijah sat in his dimly lit study, a single candle casting long, flickering shadows over the room. Before him lay Matthias’s old journal, its leather cover worn and cracked with age, the spine creased from years of use.Elijah had kept it locked away, an heirloom—a reminder of the man who had taught him everything he knew about the shadows that lurked beyond the edges of Raven’s Hollow. But tonight, with the Bloodseekers’ threat escalating, he felt a pull he couldn’t resist, a sense that somewhere within these pages lay answers he desperately needed.He took a deep breath, his fingers brushing over the cover as memories surfaced—images of Matthias guiding him through countless lessons, his voice calm yet unyielding, warning him of the dangers that existed just out of sight. Elijah had always admired Matt