Elise knelt beside the carved pedestal at the edge of the woods, brushing her fingers across its glowing runes. She had come here to think, to weigh what she knew of the celebrated knight against what she still hoped to learn. For months she had gathered every scrap of his story. She wanted the truth of him, not the legend. That was the only way she could decide if her heart was right to chase him. A folded letter rested against the pedestal's base, sealed in red wax. The knight's name was written across the front in sharp ink. Elise picked it up slowly. The seal was unbroken. Someone had left it here, or lost it, and the wind had carried it no further. She tucked it into her cloak and hurried toward the small cabin at the wood's edge. Inside the mossy-roofed cabin, she shut the door and broke the wax. Her hands shook as she read. The letter was a confession from a woman the knight had wronged, naming dates, naming places, naming a child. Every line cut at the picture Elise had built. The man on the page was not the man in the stories. She folded the letter and pressed it flat against the table. Her research had been careful, but it had been wrong. She would still seek him out — but now she needed to hear the truth from his own mouth.