My smile widened further. “You like it?”
“What?” she asked, genuinely confused.
“Do you like my smile?” I teased, giving her a playful wink. “Makes me rather irresistible, don’t you think?”
Her lips parted in disbelief. Clearly, she hadn’t seen me flirt before either.
“Don’t look so shocked. I’m quite charming once you get to know me.”
“Think I’ll pass,” she muttered, which only made me laugh.
I took a step closer, then dropped my voice to a deep murmur, “I think you could benefit from a bit of my Colt-charm.”
Emma's lips curved into a smirk, amusement flickering across her face. “I think ‘Colt’ goes from charming to deadly in the blink of an eye. So, let me hold off until I develop a death wish.”
I grinned. She wasn’t wrong. “Fair enough. If you ever feel suicidal, you let me know.”
She rolled her eyes at me, but a spark of humor lingered despite herself. “Making jokes about suicide is so like you. What’s next? Torture?”
My gaze fell to her arm, where the scars from our past were no longer visible under her Skindo tattoo. The lighthearted moment sobered instantly.
“Emma,” I said, my demeanor more serious. “I didn’t mean to?—”
She waved her hand, steady and dismissive. “It’s fine. I know you’re just trying to lighten the mood. We’ve been through worse, remember?”
I nodded, feeling a pang of regret.
She seemed to realize the growing awkwardness and quickly excused herself, leaving me standing in her own room, feeling like a jackass.
The next day, Petru offered to give us a tour of the premises. Emma and I followed him through the grand hallways, each step echoing off the ancient stone walls. Petru's stride was confident, his demeanor noticeably more relaxed since the burden of his decision had lifted.
As we walked, he explained the history and significance of various rooms and artifacts within his home. Emma’s focus was razor-sharp, taking in every detail with the precision of a Historian.
Eventually, Petru led us to a smaller, unadorned chamber, tucked away from the more public areas of the fortress. The walls were lined with towering shelves, packed with ancient documents, historical records, and brittle scrolls.
At the center of the room stood a large wooden desk, its surface worn with use. Resting atop it, encased in a glass dome, were aged, faded parchments—delicate, preserved, and significant enough to warrant protection.
Petru gestured to it with a slight wave of his hand. “This is where we keep some of our most precious historical artifacts,” he said, pride evident in his tone.
We leaned in, studying the document beneath the glass. Elaborate signatures and official seals sprawled across the page, marking it as something important. To me, it looked like an indecipherable mess of archaic script, but beside me, Emma’s posture stiffened, recognition flashing across her face.
“Is this what I think it is?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She moved closer and scanned the text and signatures with an intensity that spoke volumes about her knowledge.
Petru’s eyes widened in surprise. “You recognize it?”
“Of course,” Emma replied, and I could’ve sworn I saw the shimmer of tears beginning to form. “Those are the original signed papers of the European Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms.”
Petru’s attitude shifted from surprise to admiration. “You know your human history well. These documents are indeed original. They are crucial not only for human rights but also for the balance between magi and humans. They are one of the foundational texts that shaped the current understanding of our rights and protections, especially in light of the Great Exposure.”
I looked at Emma, noting the way her face lit up with understanding.
“This is incredible,” she breathed, marvel woven through every word. “Rome, November 4th, 1950. Holy shit, that’s the actual date they were signed!” She shook her head slightly, almost as if the gravity of the moment had hit her emotionally. “To see the original documents—it’s like holding a piece of history that shaped the world.”
Petru nodded, undeniably impressed by her depth of knowledge. “I didn’t expect anyone to recognize these, let alone appreciate their significance to this extent.”
Emma’s trembling fingers brushed gently against the glass frame as she carefully examined the Convention. “When the international community was shocked by the horrors of the Second World War, Europe united like never before. This document represents the first unified accord after centuries of conflict,” she said softly.
She then turned to us both. “Magi have been working for years to bring all Collectives together for a consensus, but this was humanity’s first real attempt at unity on such a scale.”
