The next day, whispers followed me like shadows.
Every hallway felt heavier. Every glance lingered longer.
I arrived at the archives just after dawn. Serena had secured the passage, bribing a junior clerk with a vial of imported scent.
"Fifteen minutes," she warned. "That's all I bought."
We slipped through the side wing, where the restricted vault was sealed by layered sigils. I traced the unlocking glyphs, hands steady. The door yielded with a low thrum.
Dust. Ink. Silence.
Inside, parchment towers leaned like forgotten relics. I found the document labeled 1098-AR — a slim record tied with crimson thread.
"Incident: Flameheart Crystal disappearance." Involved parties: Redacted. Judicial action: Internal tribunal. Verdict: Confidential.
I flipped through the sheets.
Nothing mentioned me.
But the last page held an oddity: a symbol — one used in fire-magic suppression circles.
I copied it.
Just as the sigils on the vault pulsed.
"We're out of time," Serena hissed.
As we slid the door shut, footsteps echoed nearby.
Not guards. Heavier. Controlled.
"Go," I whispered. "I'll stall."
She vanished down the hall.
A figure turned the corner — not Reina. Not a student.
Lady Delaria.
"You always did find your way into forbidden places," she said.
I straightened. "Just revisiting old ghosts."
She stepped closer, eyes narrowing.
"Careful, Elira. Ghosts have a way of dragging the living back with them."
She held out a folded slip of parchment.
"You've been summoned," she said.
I hesitated, unfolding the note. No seal. No signature.
Just five words:
"To Elira Winterose. Today. Rose Hall."