The candle on Rina's desk had long melted into a pool of wax, yet she hadn't moved from her chair. Her window was open, letting in the scent of scorched stone and the chill of early dawn. In her trembling hands was a letter—creased, stained, and unfinished.
She'd written it a dozen times. Burned it just as often.
This one, she hadn't burned.
She couldn't.
> Harvey... if you're reading this, then I failed. Or maybe you found this by accident. Maybe you hate me. But I had to write it anyway.
Rina exhaled shakily, blinking away the weight pressing behind her eyes. The ink on the page shimmered faintly, laced with her mana—a seal of truth. This wasn't just a letter. It was a confession spell.
She looked at the academy grounds in the distance. Smoke still rose from the training field ruins. The crater. The blood spell circle.
The Executioners had come. And they had cleaned more than just blood.
> I lied to you. About my father. About what I knew. And about what I saw that night two years ago.
The quill trembled in her grip. She set it down before the shaking betrayed her any further. Then she opened her hand—and there it was. A broken shard of crimson crystal, no bigger than her fingertip. It pulsed faintly.
She'd stolen it from her father's vault. The last remnant of the Red Sigil Project.
"He's getting too close," she whispered, voice cracking. "Harvey… you're going to die if you keep digging."
Someone knocked.
"Rina," a soft voice called. "You missed your morning review with Elder Saria. Are you—"
"Coming," she replied sharply.
She hid the letter under the floorboard with the others. But this time… she hesitated.
Then she turned back, retrieved the letter, and pressed her mana into the wax seal. The paper folded itself into a delicate phoenix shape and shimmered, then vanished into her cloak pocket.
> If I see him again… I'll give it to him. If not… the truth deserves wings.
As she left the room, the sunlight finally broke through the clouds. But for Rina, the world had never felt darker.
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