The letter arrives through official channels, formal and unexpected, forwarded from the state correctional facility housing Casimir Voss.
"He's requesting a visit," Reyes tells me over the phone, her voice carrying genuine surprise despite decades of professional composure. "Specifically with you, Sevric. He's dying. Terminal cancer, according to prison medical records."
I sit with this news for a long moment, considerable complicated emotion building despite decades having passed since Voss's original conviction.
"Why would he want to see me?" I ask.
"I don't know," Reyes admits. "But given everything, I think you should consider it carefully before deciding."
Talia's expression carries visible concern when I share this unexpected request during our evening conversation.
"Do you act
