𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧

37 - where flame meets dust, words take flight

As Y/n took in the interior, she found herself surrounded by an arsenal of Khaenri'ahn gizmos and contrivances. Her brows furrowed as a flicker of recognition lit her gaze. Hold on a minute – weren't these eerily similar to the madcap gadgets she had seen in Phoenix's time-travel escapade just yesterday? A sly grin edged across her face. Phoenix, that sneaky fox, must've stashed all these marvels in this mansion's hidey-hole, which only revealed itself courtesy of the assembly's less-than-graceful demolition.

Amidst the medley of inventions and dusty volumes, a lone letter caught Y/n's keen eye. It lay there on a table, the seal broken and its contents seemingly waiting for a reader. A stray beam of light, filtering through a crack in the stone, caressed the parchment as if spotlighting an age-old secret about to be sung aloud.

***********

Dear Guizhong,

As these words meet your eyes, my name may have become an echo in the vaults of your memory. I may no longer walk this world, but that's a trivial detail. Your bewilderment at the existence of this room is not unwarranted. I realize I've played my fair share of chaos, drawing lines where there were none. The last thing I want is to add to your burdens.

In reflecting upon my existence, I've concluded that my life is like flipping through the pages of the most tragic and ridiculous book ever written, where all the characters are me, tripping over their own robes and accidentally concocting perilous elixirs instead of tea.

By now, the gaps of memories you've been trying to piece together must have drawn a telling picture. The events that have befallen me, the choices I've made - you, of all people, with your intimate knowledge of the forces we dared to tinker with, the strands of Irminsul we pulled and twisted - you might have surmised my fate. The Celestial overseers do not take kindly to those who toss the dice of destiny one too many times. The scales demanded balance, and I was weighed.

The entity locked within the heart of the meteorite will stir from its slumber before long - I predict a span of ten years from the crafting of this letter, plus or minus. She is precious to me, a treasure woven from the threads of my existence. I ask, would you watch over her in my stead?

Thank you, Guizhong. For accepting me, with all my quirks and complexities. Your ventures to Khaenri'ah and the clinking metal that bound our worlds – these are cherished memories. Expression was not my forte, but let these inked words carry the weight of gratitude I bore but never spoke.

Fate's threads may yet converge again, leading you back to my path in an hour of desperate need.

Till we cross paths again,

(Here, the ink has been seared away, leaving behind only a smoky shadow of a signature.)

**********

Y/n stood there, letter in hand, her face a canvas painted with a complex mix of emotions. Her eyes widened, a hint of a smile played at the corners of her mouth, and her eyebrows arched - as if daring the universe for throwing this curveball her way.

"Ah, Phoenix," Y/n murmured, "you really had a knack for being extremely cryptic in your sentences."

She looked around the lab once more, eyes lingering on the forgotten tools and devices that now looked like relics of a bygone era. There was a comforting familiarity and an odd sense of nostalgia that clung to this place like the dust in the air.

"Not what I was searching for, but a piece of the puzzle, nonetheless," she muttered to herself.

She carefully folded the letter and pocketed it, deciding that it needed to be safely stashed away in her personal storage, probably next to her collection of bizarre artifacts and a stash of emergency snacks. Her mind raced like a hamster in a wheel – Phoenix disappeared from history because he was erased from Irminsul, but that begged the million-Mora question: Why?