Morning dawned on Ravenclaw with a grey light that held no warmth. There was a residual smell of smoke from the previous night's torches, as if the ground itself had imbibed the tension of the group. Evelyn stood at the edge of the clearing, her gaze trained on the red letters scrawled across the stone wall.
The note was written with malice; each one of those blood-like strokes sliced like a punch.
If fire is what you decided, then fire is what I'll unleash.
The scent of metal lingered in the air. There was no doubt who had written it.
"Fji," Damien snarled in a low, angry voice. His fists were clenched so hard that veins stood out on his arms.
Evelyn swallowed, her stomach churning. The very appearance of the words on the paper made the guards recoil, but the silence that followed was worse. The silence of knowing that he was out there, in the world, with fury brewing in him.
