Night slowly crept into the skies, overshadowing the day, and light. It covered the windows of Edwin's private chambers. The fireplace was left with a glowing, red light as the wood had almost completely burnt off.
The little light casted a reflection over Edwin who sat at his desk, showing signs of uneasiness. He held a quill in his hand, contemplating if he should write or not.
After a few minutes of deep thoughts, he finally dipped the quill into the small bottle of ink right next to him on the table. And he started to write, putting asides his fears and uncertainty. He wrote:
"My dearest Tiara,
How have you been? And how is everything over there at the Scarlet pack?
I am writing to you after so much thinking and deliberation because I do not know how to put my words. But here I
