Page 223 of Salt Between the Wolves

A long silence followed.

For the first time since arriving in the archives, Eira felt something shift inside her. It was not certainty or accusation, but something far more unsettling: the possibility that entire parts of her world had been built on stories chosen for her.

And if that was true, how many other things had she accepted simply because someone told her they were true?

Ilva left her there shortly afterward, not abruptly or dismissively, but with the quiet confidence of someone who understood that certain thoughts required space.

"You don't need me for the next part," she said, gathering several scrolls beneath one arm.

Eira glanced up.

"The next part?"

The older woman smiled faintly.

"Thinking."

And with that, she disappeared between the shelves.

For a while, Eira remained exactly where she was while the documents before her lay forgotten, though her thoughts certainly did not.

History disappears when it becomes inconvenient.

The words lingered longer than she wanted them to.

Eventually she pushed the scrolls aside and rose from the table, deciding that walking felt easier than thinking.

The archives stretched endlessly around her as she wandered without purpose at first, passing shelves of trade records, maps of distant coasts, and journals written by explorers, merchants, sailors, scholars, and people whose names history had almost forgotten.

One shelf eventually caught her attention.

Travel Accounts.

Eira paused before selecting a book almost at random.

Its leather cover had been worn smooth by countless hands, and she settled into a nearby chair before opening it.

Hours passed without her noticing.

The book told the story of a woman who had sailed along the western coast decades earlier. She had not been a ruler, a warrior, or anyone history considered particularly important, yet she had crossed storms, visited distant ports, and described places Eira had never imagined.

The woman had been frightened at times, lonely on many occasions, and wrong more often than she cared to admit, but she had gone anyway.

Eira found herself smiling as she turned one page after another.

The realization came slowly.

People had lived entire lives beyond Frostvein, beyond duty, beyond expectations, and beyond fathers deciding who they should become.

The thought felt both dangerous and wonderful.

A familiar voice interrupted her.

"What did you find?"

Eira looked up and saw Ilva standing beside the table once more.

She wasn't carrying books this time, only curiosity.