The air in the chamber had grown impossibly still after Amberine's question. Her voice trembled with emotion, but it was steady enough to deliver the words I knew she'd been holding back.
"Are you the one… who killed my father?"
Her eyes were burning—both literally and figuratively. I could feel the weight of Ifrit coiling beneath her skin, its fire simmering just out of view, waiting for her command. Her fists clenched, her body rigid with the intensity of the moment. Elara and Maris were both silent, their gazes flicking between me and Amberine, waiting for my answer.
I stood there, motionless, my pens floating calmly around me. For anyone watching, I might have seemed detached, unaffected by her question. But inside, something shifted. Something deep, something I hadn't felt in years.
A memory stirred.
