Chapter 38: Letter from the Lost

Chapter 38: Letter from the Lost

The rain had returned to Velmora.

It pattered gently across the rooftops of the Academy, slipping down stone arches and collecting in the cracked tiles like forgotten tears. Andrew sat beneath the old bell tower, Ashren resting across his knees, its blade humming low with quiet energy.

He'd felt different since the training beneath the city.

More stable. Stronger.

But something still shifted in him. As if a door had been left ajar in the back of his mind.

Then, footsteps.

A cloaked figure approached through the misty corridor—face hidden, aura unreadable. Mihai appeared beside Andrew in a blink, hand already hovering over the hilt of his dagger.

"I come in peace," the stranger said calmly, voice feminine, young—but with an accent neither of them recognized.

She held out a sealed letter. The wax bore the unmistakable sigil: a black sun encircled by thorns.

Mihai's eyes widened. "That… shouldn't exist."

Andrew took the letter carefully. The wax was ancient. The seal—impossibly specific.

The crest of General Seraphine Valdrin, one of his most feared and loyal commanders from his past life.

But she'd died. Noir had burned her to dust during the conquest of the Second Continent.

Andrew broke the seal.

The letter was written in a runic tongue long extinct—but he could read every word like it was his native language.

- The Message -

To the Shadow Who Remembers,If this letter finds you, then time has not defeated us. I survived the Great Collapse by falling into the rift you created when the Three Moons aligned.I am not the only one.Your army, scattered through timelines, is beginning to stir. Some seek you to lead them. Others… to stop you.The balance is shifting, my king.Your echo has cracked the wall between worlds. They will come for you. The gods. The rebels. Even those who once swore to you by blood.Choose your path. Or it will be chosen for you.

It was signed:—S. Valdrin

- Stirring Flames -

Andrew sat in silence as thunder rolled across the horizon.

"She lived," he whispered. "Seraphine lived…"

Mihai's expression was grim. "If even one of your former generals survived… then the others might have too."

"Some loyal," Andrew said softly. "Some not."

The weight of destiny shifted on his shoulders again.

He was no longer fighting to master Ashren, or defend himself in a tournament. He was fighting time itself—trying to stay ahead of echoes that wanted to reclaim him or erase him altogether.

- Elsewhere… -

In a citadel beyond time, a crimson-robed man stood before a mirror made of starlight.

He watched Andrew reading the letter.

Then, he turned to the shadows behind him and spoke.

"Send the first hound. Let's see if he truly remembers what it means… to command death."