A week passed. A quiet, eerie week.
No new rifts. No rebel attacks. Not even a whisper from the Conclave.
So of course, that's when the letters arrived.
Each professor got one. Rolled parchment. No seal. Just a name etched in ink that shimmered with fading magic.
Mine was from someone I didn't recognize: Kael Ren.
Lilith read hers and froze.
"He was one of the first Architects," she said. "Your name's not a coincidence."
Yuria frowned. "So they're from ghosts?"
"More like echoes," Valmira corrected. "Written before their deaths. Enchanted to awaken when another Architect reached this point in history."
I unrolled my letter with trembling hands.
"To the next who bears the title:The truth of the shards is buried beneath the Black Abyss.Not even the Conclave remembers what was sealed there.But if you seek to survive, you must go there.Not to fight.To understand."
The letter crumbled into ash the moment I finished it.
No signature. No warning.
Just a location and a dare.