(Planet Ixtal, Inside Soron's Castle, Soron's POV)
For a brief moment after unfolding the letter, Soron did not dare read it.
He simply sat staring at it, the thin parchment resting in his palm like something far heavier than its size could justify, as though the weight of an entire lifetime had been folded into that small rectangle.
The wax seal had cracked slightly with age, yet Charles' handwriting upon the front remained steady, unmistakable, and painfully familiar.
*Sniff*
The letter still carried with it the faint scent of smoke.
The same brand Charles used to frequent, as despite the years having passed, the parchment still retained a faint smell of that cigarette that he probably smoked while writing this.
'Ha…. This letter sure smells like you, old friend.'
Soron thought, as he finally began to read the first lines.
[Old friend… if you are reading this, then I am already dead.
