Troy took the note gently from Jinn's hand, his brows already pulling together as he unfolded the paper. The faint light from the eidric lanterns above cast a soft shimmer across the ink, making each written line glow for a moment as Troy's eyes darted from word to word.
"Eidra… golden… saint… candidate… Holy Empire of Seraphim…?" Troy murmured, almost whispering the phrases as he read them aloud. His expression grew more serious the further he went, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Each paragraph carried details about a chosen candidate or candidates for sainthood—someone tied to the Holy Empire itself.
He kept reading for several long seconds, the silence stretching between them inside the towering archive platform. When he finally reached the end, Troy exhaled through his nose, folding the note neatly before his gaze lifted toward Jinn.
And Jinn was watching him—quiet, tense, waiting for the answer that could either calm or trouble him even more.
