MATTEO:
I had received a letter, the wax seal of Ravensclaw, a black crescent pressed into crimson. Opening the letter, I had already read it twice, each line dripping with the same predicable arrogance. Realizing a faint scent of ash and iron.
“Report on Blue Ridge’s defenses Matteo.
I hope you haven’t forgotten who helped you when everyone abandoned you.
We will await your next signal. The plan remains the same.”
A neat signature followed: Lucian of Ravensclaw.
How amusing. They thought I was theirs.
Fools. They're all under my control.
I held the parchment over the candle flame, watching the edges curl and blacken until the words disappeared.
The scent of burning wax filled the air, sharp and sweet.
“I’ll send your report soon,” I murmured, letting the ashes fall between my
