My dearest,

How can I put into words what my heart longs to tell you? My soul aches not for my own fate, but for the faith you must now carry. You are young, full of wonder, and I have seen the light of God shine through your eyes since the day He restored them.

You do not yet know what the morning brings, not fully. I have spared you that, for now. Tonight, you will read my words by the glow of a small flame, just as we once spoke in hushed whispers when the guards turned away. I wish I could be there to see your lips form these words, to watch your expression shift as you reach the end. I wish I could tell you, just once more, that all things—yes, even suffering—work together for good to those who love Him.

It is strange how a cell can feel so free. I have never known such peace as I do now, though I am shackled, though my body weakens. Love has a way of transcending iron bars. Love, after all, is why I am here.

You came to me as a shadow at first, led by your father’s heavy steps. A jailer’s daughter, blind from birth. I touched your face as you wept, feeling the weight of the world press against your soul. And then, I prayed. Not for my release, not for my safety, but for your sight.

You gasped when the light broke through. You reached for your father, who for the first time could not find the words to explain what he had seen. Your eyes, once clouded, now clear as a spring morning. And in that moment, I knew you had been given something far greater than vision—you had been given truth.

And so, we spoke often in the days that followed. You would visit my cell, bringing what little comfort you could, listening as I told you of a Love that goes beyond mere affection. I told you of a Love that sacrifices, that endures, that binds us to something greater than ourselves. You listened. You believed. And that is why I write to you now.

I cannot go to you, so my words must. I hope you understand why I cannot renounce my faith, why I cannot bow to an emperor who claims dominion over souls that belong only to God. I hope you know I do not fear what tomorrow brings, for I go where no chain can follow.

I sign my letter with trembling hands, not out of fear, but out of love.

Your Valentine.

The guards come at dawn.