Eira's POV
I first observed the skilfully carved, finely crafted wooden box. It was beautiful, the kind of work that spoke of patience and devotion. The artist must have poured countless hours into shaping every delicate detail, turning it into something truly precious.
Then I opened it.
Inside lay a beautiful dagger, resting perfectly within a velvet lining molded to fit its shape. The steel blade was brand new and gleaming, sharp enough to reflect my face upon its surface. Its wooden handle was polished smooth, gently curved with arches that allowed the fingers to settle naturally when held.
Something was written along the handle.
I leaned closer and saw my name carved into it in elegant calligraphy.
Eira.
I never imagined I would feel intrigued by a dagger, yet this one drew me in completely. It was beautiful, and I felt an irresistible urge to hold it. Carefully, I set the box on my lap and lifted the weapon by its handle.
"Be careful. It's sharp," Roman warned softly.
