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A pigeon fluttered down to the windowsill, a small scroll tied to its leg. Scarlet's heart quickened as it always did when she retrieved these missives, her fingers deftly untying the knot. The paper was thin, the handwriting semi-familiar but coded, just as she'd expected.
She unfolded the note and scanned the lines. At first, it seemed like gibberish. Her brow furrowed, and she read it again, slower this time, each word a puzzle piece that refused to fit.
Frustration gnawed at her, but she knew better than to rush. Scarlet sat down at her desk, pulling out scrap paper. She began scribbling down potential keys, her mind drifting back to the countless ciphers she'd learned over the years. One by one, she tested them, the tension in her shoulders easing as familiarity crept in.
Finally, it clicked—an older cipher, one she hadn’t used in years. The words shifted into clarity:
Message: (Scene links to channel entry)
Scarlet’s eyes narrowed as she studied the decoded message. The news was both a relief and a burden. The child was found, but their condition was uncertain, and time was running out. The mention of the head sent a shiver down her spine—this was a complication she had anticipated as a possibility but had hoped was just paranoia; she had pleasant memories of them as a child.
She leaned back in her chair, the message still clutched in her hand as she mulled over her next move. Each decision had to be precise, each step carefully orchestrated. The stakes were higher than ever, and one wrong move could unravel everything she’d worked for.
With a sigh, Scarlet stood and moved to the fireplace. The note had served its purpose, and now it had to disappear. She held it to the flames, watching as the fire licked at the edges before consuming the paper entirely. The words blackened and curled, reduced to ashes that she carefully stirred, ensuring no trace remained. She burned the scrap paper for good measure as well.
She added a scrap of newspaper to the pile, a simple trick to disguise the remains further, before tossing another log onto the coals. The fire roared to life, and Scarlet allowed herself a brief moment of warmth before turning her attention back to her plans.
The message was gone, but its implications weighed heavily on her. She couldn’t afford to falter now. With renewed determination, she returned to her desk, ready to plot her next move.