The message arrived on a Tuesday night.
It came exactly as Helsa had predicted it would, moving through the established chain: passed first by Iva at the way station, carried along the boundary stones to the north route, then pushed toward the eastern wall where it reached just a little over two hours after sunset. A young witch from the quiet branch delivered it into the war room, where Vael, Helsa, and Tarn had been taking turns waiting for eleven days straight.
Helsa took the sealed letter without hesitation.
She broke the seal and read through it once. Her expression stayed controlled, unchanged. For three weeks she had trained herself not to react to Selene’s handwriting, no matter what it contained.
She placed the letter flat on the table.
“Tomorrow night,” she said. “Two hours
