The summons came at noon, printed in elegant script on cream parchment:
"Elira Winterose, report to the Office of Academic Integrity. Urgent."
I barely had time to finish my lunch before Serena grabbed my sleeve. "They're saying you tampered with restricted archives."
My heart stilled. "That's not possible."
"Someone filed a formal complaint. With documentation."
Fabricated documentation, I thought grimly.
The corridor to the Integrity Office felt longer than usual. Every step echoed.
Inside, three faculty members sat behind a long stone desk: Professor Eiren of Magical Ethics, Dean Halford, and a representative from the Queen's Office. All wore the same unreadable expression.
A clerk handed me a parchment. "This was submitted anonymously."
I scanned it. My name. Archive number 1098-AR. Then the charge:"Subject Elira Winterose altered or removed sealed records related to the Flameheart Tribunal."
Dean Halford broke the silence. "We verified your presence at the archive. You had clearance through academic petition."
"Yes," I said evenly. "I followed procedure. I entered alone, reviewed the documents, and left with nothing."
Professor Eiren's brow creased. "Then how do you explain the missing glyph signature on the 1098-AR entry log?"
My throat tightened. "What missing signature? I signed in. That log was intact."
"Not anymore," said the Queen's representative. "And curiously, the timestamp matches your visit."
A quiet pause. My fingers curled into fists.
"This is a setup," I said. "Someone forged this."
"Can you name who?" Eiren asked.
I hesitated.
Because I knew the answer. But saying it would cost me more than silence.
When I stepped out, Reina was waiting, arms crossed.
"I told you," she murmured, "some truths were buried for a reason."