The scroll sat untouched in front of Seraphina.
It hadn't burned her. Not physically. But ever since her fingers brushed its seal, her wrist throbbed—low, steady, like something beneath the skin didn't belong to her.
Cam was already halfway through decoding a glyph. She worked quickly, brows furrowed, jaw clenched in focus. Her messy braid swung over one shoulder, ink smudging her fingertips.
Seraphina hadn't even started.
> "You alright?" Cam murmured, barely audible.
Seraphina gave a tight nod. Her eyes dropped to the silver cuff around her wrist. The white inlay was duller than usual, like dust had settled on it from the inside.
Normal? Probably not.
Solace stalked the aisles between their desks—silent, but ever-present. His presence alone kept the room still.
Seraphina picked up her stylus. She stared at the first glyph—twisted and sharp like it had been carved in anger.
It wasn't familiar from class.
It was something deeper. Older. Instinctual.
A pulse of heat shimmered under her skin. She dropped the stylus with a soft clink.
> Don't do this. Not now. Not here.
Cam glanced over. Seraphina avoided her eyes.
Across the room, a girl with tightly wound braids locked eyes with her. Not curiosity. Judgment. Maybe even fear.
Solace's voice cut through the quiet like a blade.
> "Translation is not interpretation. If you guess, you fail."
The class flinched and returned to work.
Seraphina reached for her stylus again. Forced herself to copy the glyph, stroke for stroke. No guesses. No instincts.
Still, the echo from before teased the edges of her mind.
> She who bears both flame and feather…
Her pulse quickened.
Why did it feel like the scroll knew her?
Why did her wrist still feel like it remembered something she didn't?
She needed answers. But not now. Not under Solace's watchful eyes.
And definitely not while her cuff felt like it was hiding something just beneath the skin.
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