Dearest Readers,
If Lady Whistledown has taught us anything, it’s that the sharpest weapons are not always swords—but words. And mine? Have been quietly sharpening.
Though I’ve continued to post, I know I’ve been less present—pulled into the depths of my own mind, battling storms that few ever see. Mental warfare is a cruel, relentless thing. But make no mistake—I haven’t been hiding. I’ve been regrouping. Reloading. Reigniting.
Not all shadows fall from nightfall—some come wrapped in silk and smiles. But even then, they tried to cast doubt on my light. They must’ve forgotten—I am the storm. I didn’t start writing for applause or validation. I started to survive. To bleed ink instead of breaking. And the fact that so many of you have joined me along the way? That’s power they’ll never understand.
To those who’ve tried to silence, diminish, or derail me—thank you. You’ve only fueled the fire. I’m not going anywhere. In fact, I’m coming back with precision, purpose, and pages that cut deep.
Consistency is returning. And this time, I’m not just writing—I’m unleashing.
With ink-stained fury and unapologetic fire,
Selena Sallow
(Lady Whistledown would be proud. Or terrified)