Chapter 753 Child Of Shadows

• “So the boy became a killer while still a youth,” William continued, a sad chuckle threading through the confession. “His knife paid for every crust of bread, every coin of survival—all of it for one purpose: to keep himself, and the children who trusted him, breathing another day. He never believed in God, not truly. Yet time after time, he drifted back here, slipping through those doors like a phantom seeking... something. The last visit was different, though.”
• William turned, eyes narrowing on Annabeth. “He told me he had seen light,” he said quietly. “A child born in pitch-black night suddenly stretching toward a brilliance that was never his to claim—like a moth drawn to the flame. But how can one made of shadow expect to survive in open sun?”
• He squinted, gaze swirling like a whirlpool intent on pulling her under, testing whether she, too, was forged from darkness.