Chapter 175: When Ash falls like snow
If you ever find yourself at the center of a web, feeling the silk tighten around your throat, it’s already too late. That was the kind of morning I had.
The academy halls were unusually quiet for a weekday. Not the comforting silence of diligent study, but the kind that slithered. Whispered. Eyes that lingered too long, students pretending not to glance, and the occasional chuckle just a little too forced.
It started with Mira.
"Professor," she said casually as we crossed paths near the central spire, "you might want to check the board near the east courtyard. Someone’s been... creative."
I raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like someone who collects student art?"
She smirked. "It’s more in the vein of... scandalous fiction."
That’s how I found the first of the Crimson Writs.
Posted on official parchment—blatantly forged, but convincingly so—was a detailed, dramatic account of a supposed encounter between yours truly and the Head of Department, Lysaria. It described candlelit meetings, forbidden research, and secret duels under moonlight. My character was portrayed as a seductive villain, her as a conflicted genius.
I stared for a long time. Then longer.
"...I’m not even offended. That’s impressive prose."
Behind me, Leo coughed. "Uh, Professor. There’s more."