The package arrived at breakfast—wrapped in black silk, tied with sinew instead of string, and bearing no name. It simply appeared at Rose's elbow as she bit into her toast. Nimbus squawked in alarm.
"Is it cursed?" he asked, hovering warily.
"Almost certainly," Rose replied, already untying it.
Inside was a bundle of old letters, their ink faded and brittle with age. The scent of ash clung to them. One bore a seal she recognized instantly: the sigil of the High Coven Council.
And below it—her mother's handwriting.
Rose's hands shook as she unfolded the parchment.
> My dearest Belladoma,
I fear this may be the last time I write to you.
They know what we did. What we planned.
Keep her safe. Keep Rose safe.
Rose's world tilted.
Belladoma had known her mother?
Nimbus read over her shoulder. "Well, that explains the soft looks and dramatic stares."
Rose ignored him and dove into the rest of the letters. All were signed by her mother—Lilith Thorne—written in hurried script, recounting experiments, spells, warnings.
Secrets.
One letter described a ritual—The Binding of Brimstone—a spell designed to house a powerful storm entity in a living host. A being of chaos and energy.
A being… like Rose.
She dropped the letter, heart pounding.
"Did my mother make me into this?" she whispered.
Nimbus fluttered down to her shoulder. "No. But she might've made you strong enough to survive it."
Rose shoved the letters into her satchel and stormed from the dining hall. She found Belladoma in the library's restricted section, buried in tomes on sigilic resurrection.
"You knew her," Rose hissed.
Belladoma looked up slowly. "Yes."
"And you lied."
"I never lied," Belladoma said. "You never asked."
Rose slammed the letters down. "She trusted you. She asked you to protect me."
"I have protected you. More times than you know."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Belladoma's eyes flared, not with anger—but guilt. "Because your mother was my dearest friend. And because I failed her once."
Rose took a step back. "What happened?"
Belladoma stood, removing both gloves. The runes on her hands shimmered violently, like scars torn open.
"She died casting the Binding. To save you. I tried to stop her. She made me swear not to interfere."
Tears stung Rose's eyes. "So I'm just a vessel? A container for power?"
"No," Belladoma said firmly. "You're her daughter. And mine, in some ways."
The words struck deep. Rose stared at her, something unraveling in her chest.
"You loved her."
"Yes," Belladoma whispered. "But I chose you."
That night, Rose sat with the letters and read every word again.
Not to understand the past.
But to make peace with it.