idornaseminary

[idornaseminary]

Idorna: Seminary of Magic (Soundtrack)

1) “Monsters” - Ruelle (Prologue)

2) “Perfect” - Ed Sheeran feat. Beyonce (Beatrice/Calix)

3) “Game of Survival” - Ruelle (Unlikely Company)

4) “Castle” - Halsey (Unlikely Company)

5) “Thousand Miles” - Tove Lo (Enzo/Mel)

6) “Castle” - Halsey (Unlikely Company)

7) “idontwannabeyouanymore” - Billie Eilish (Natasha)

8) “I Won’t Let You Go” - Snow Patrol (Enzo/Mel)

9)  “Atlas” - Coldplay (Epilogue)

[idornaseminary]

Epilogue: Last Moon

Enzo stood in the Den with his hands in his pockets, his eyes peering around the room he once called his private sanctuary. He took note of the dark walls, each one painted with one of the four Great Birds of Idorna. The sunset outside forced the red window to cast a brilliant scarlet over the chairs, chaise, and carpet. The fireplace to his right burned loudly, the everlasting wood crackling every minute or so.

‘My bedroom’.

Helena’s words from the Gladur rang in his ears. It seemed the Den was never his. He looked at the two beds, now understanding. This was the room she and Liara shared as children when they visited their mother at Idorna. The scene was almost sad, and he felt slightly guilty for using such a place - slightly.

He paced over to the window, looking out to the grounds below. There were a few students on the snowy fields, each holding their wands to the sky, lighting the tips of them in honour of the fallen of Idorna.

Helena’s speech still rang in his ears. They would all be sent home tomorrow, not to return to the island until September. She would act as headmistress, advised heavily by Professor O’Connor and Owa. She vowed that, although many students did not believe the story she told and vowed to never return, she would be a kind and honest headmistress, shaping Idorna to be what it was supposed to be.

Only the unlikely company knew of Yazid Ibori’s fate, and Enzo was content with their decision for now. However, he never heard any news of what became of Chantal Williams. Helena seemed quite sturdy in her belief that Enzo should have chosen what to do with her, so he doubted she killed her. Maybe she was in Azkaban. Maybe she was locked in the mountain herself. He tried not to think about it too much, his fingers idly reaching up to touch his chest where the pendant Chantal forced him to wear once rested.

She’s gone.

Liara’s fate was also unknown to anyone. Several students asked Helena when she gave her speech, but she would not answer, only stating that Liara ‘will get what she deserves’, whatever that meant.

Natasha stepped through the hole left by the opened portrait, expecting to find the Den empty. She was surprised when, instead, she found Enzo, illuminated by the fiery red light seeping through the window. He seemed to be deep in thought, which didn’t surprise her. The last few days had given them all a lot to think about.

“Enzo,” the German greeted quietly, tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be here.”

Enzo was surprised to hear the voice. He wasn’t surprised that people would come visit the Den before they left Idorna, but that it was Natasha.

“Hi,” he said, giving her a faint smile. “How have you been?”

He had not spoken to her since their night in the Gladur forest a week ago; he only saw her briefly on the staircase when passing the Cucurrion common rooms.

“Not bad, considering,” Natasha said with a small shrug. She wasn’t hurt, and hadn’t lost anyone important to her. By her standards, after everything that happened, that was good. “And you?”

“Better,” he said with a bit of a sigh, moving over to the chaise and sitting down. He gestured for his friend to sit on the chair opposite him. “Is there something you wanted or did you just want to get away from… everything?”  

Natasha inhaled deeply, looking at the seat Enzo offered to her. She hadn’t come here expecting to talk with someone else, although at this point, she didn’t know what harm it could do. She’d barely spoken to anyone in the last few days. Maybe it would help.

“I thought being here might…” She shook her head, a faintly amused smile appearing on her lips. “I’m not really sure what I thought it might do. Help, somehow, I suppose. I don’t know why. It’s not as though I really need help with anything.”

Enzo nodded, knowing how selective the German was with her words. “You sure?”

Natasha sighed softly, although she nodded. It seemed as though they had all changed, after everything. It wasn’t difficult to remember a time Enzo loathed to even be in the same room as her.

“I’m sure. Just a lot to think about.” She looked at the Frenchman, wondering why he had come back. “What about you? Why are you here?”

“Just came to think about everything, I suppose,” he muttered lowly.

Natasha nodded again, fingers tapping nervously on her knee. She wasn’t sure now was a good time to bring this up, but she doubted there would be a better time between now and when they all left Idorna, and by then it would be too late.

“Enzo…” She hesitated after just the one word, not sure how she should go about this. Asking for help, in any way, was not her forte; she hated doing it, as before she felt it made her seem weak, but she knew it was time to get over that fear. “After the first attack, when you helped me with my shoulder. You offered me a place to stay, if I needed it.”

He was surprised to hear it her say it, but he remembered, and nodded in response.

Natasha inhaled deeply again, knowing she had to just get this out. “I...I was wondering you would still be willing to let me stay with you.” She could barely look at him, nails curling into her palm as she waited for his response, half-expecting him to laugh at her for asking for his help.

The corners of Enzo’s eyes crinkled as he smiled and nodded again. “Of course, Natasha,” he said. “For as long as you need.”

A weight was lifted from her chest at Enzo’s words, and she was finally able to look at him fully. A small smile crossed her lips, and she nodded. “Thank you,” she said softly, her sincere gratitude clear in her voice.

Calix’s knuckles rapped gently on the wooden frame of the doorway, the portrait still hanging loosely in its hinges. The painted lady, the silver dagger held just above her skin, eyed him as he stepped into the Den, and Calix couldn’t help feel deeply disturbed that the Den used to be Helena’s, and possibly Liara’s old bedroom, who had to endure a suicide every time they wanted to rest.

It’s hardly a wonder they were both deranged.

“Hey guys,” he said quietly as he entered, smiling at his two friends, who he didn’t want to disturb, but was pleasantly surprised to see them.

Enzo looked over to Calix when he entered, nodding, giving him a faint smile. “How are you?” he asked - something he never thought he would genuinely want to know about the medic. Calix’s injuries had undoubtedly been the most severe during the attacks - before and after Helena’s appearance - and it was a wonder that was still able to stand on both feet.  

“I’m alive,” Calix said with a grateful smile, the words adopted as a simple and easy safetynet to repeat whenever someone asked him, avoiding having to talk about his shoulder. He was a little shocked by the pleasantry in Enzo’s voice, a new shade of smoulder that wasn’t as curt and impatient with Calix as usual.

“How are you getting on? I saw Andre in the infirmary, he’s looking well.”

Nodding, Enzo leaned back on the chaise, laying one arm over the back of it and placing his right foot on his left knee. “He said he was getting better,” he muttered.

Natasha had forgotten to ask about Andre, too wrapped up in her nervousness, but she was glad to hear that he was doing well. She looked at Calix, offering a faint smile.

“And Sam is okay?” she asked, not sure how the healer would react to her asking about his friend.

Calix turned a little too quickly when he heard his friend’s name uttered, a pang of pain like the silver dagger in the portrait piercing his chest as his shoulder complained against the sudden movement.

Calix didn’t know how he would react when Natasha mentioned Sam either. They had argued, threatened each other and worse but, now, there was no anger in him, no animosity nor desire for revenge; Natasha had proven herself a close friend and a supportive ally, and despite his worst intentions, he found himself smiling softly when she asked.  

“Also alive, thank goodness,” he said, “And, eh, Marie? Is it? No...”

Natasha shook her head. “Maria. And she’s fine. I’m glad to hear Sam is okay, though.” She knew she’d never apologized for what happened, and wasn’t sure she would get the chance to, but Calix seemed to have forgiven her, or at least moved on from his anger.

“That’s the one!” Calix called out, snapping his fingers as the name came back to him. “That’s the one. Well, I’m glad they’re all okay.”

He slowly turned away from the two, stepping over to the fire and placing his hand on the mantelpiece, the marble offering a solid support and a chance for him to ease the pain in his arm.

“So, what’re you gonna do now that we have seven months before school starts again?” Beatrice asked Mel, huffing and puffing as they climbed the six flights of stairs up to the Den in search of their men.

“School,” said Mel, shuddering. The thought seemed completely absurd to her at this point, but the fact remained that she had only one year at Idorna left. “God, I have no clue. I’m just grateful to be alive, so I’m going to spend as much time with my dad as I can, but…”

Mel trailed off. She’d been through so much since she’d seen him last. And she would never be able to tell him any of it.

“But you have to be careful about what you say to him,” Beatrice breathed, her grasp on the railing turning her knuckles a pale white, glad that she wouldn’t have nearly as many stairs once she was back home in the Observatory tomorrow. “I find that half-truths are the best way to keep family in the loop without telling them everything.”

Mel nodded. “Yeah. I should be fine. He kind of understands there’s stuff I can’t tell him.” She smiled as the reached the landing. “But what about you? Any big plans?”

Beatrice beamed and turned round the corner heading towards the Den, nearly skipping with glee. “Cal and his brother Ryker are moving in with me in Samoa,” she said. “Thank you, by the way, for duplicating their keys for me!”

“No problem!” Mel replied happily. “I’m glad something good is coming out of this year. I’m excited for you guys.”

She paused, staring at the gruesome portrait before them. If she could help it, Mel was going to avoid this room like the plague next year. Her final year at Idorna would be one free of any turmoil.

The Samoan glanced at her friend staring at the door hanging ajar, happy that they wouldn’t have a need to sneak around and hide in secret rooms when they returned in the fall. It could just be a normal school year. Gently tugging her friend out of the way, Beatrice swung the painting away from the wall, the precarious creaking as it hung on its hinges sending a chill up her spine. “C’mon. Looks like everybody’s waiting for us,” she said, stepping in first.

“Right,” said Mel, taking a shaky breath as they stepped through the portrait hole for what was hopefully the last time. The others had already arrived. “Hey guys.”

Enzo turned his head when the portrait swung open, watching as Melanie and Beatrice stepped into the Den. Seems that they all had the same idea. He scooted over, giving Melanie a place to sit down as he offered a dim smile.

Beatrice grinned as she walked over to the a chair and sat down carefully, crossing her legs at the knee, fixing her long, silver midi skirt before settling in for the evening. “We miss anything important?” she asked, quietly.

“Not much, love,” Calix said with a smile, glad of her company beside him. He looked across to Mel and offered her a simple nod as she entered.

“Great minds must think alike,” said Mel, scanning around the sunlit room. She rested her head against Enzo’s shoulder, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. “I dunno. It just felt right to come here one last time after...after everything.”

Enzo used the hand draped across the back of the chaise to reach atop Melanie’s head, playing with her hair as she spoke, nodding along with her words.

He scanned the group, all together in this room again. It felt strange to be in this place without a purpose. They were just five students, sitting around a fire. The thought of what and where they would all be when September came passed through his mind, but he forced it down, not wanting to think of the future just yet.

Natasha sat back a little in her seat, letting her eyes move over the others. Part of her wanted to leave once Melanie and Beatrice arrived. Not because she had anything against them, but because she wasn’t used to being in a group like this, without a goal in mind, and she wasn’t sure what to do. But she stayed in her seat, her finger tapping as her hand rested on her thigh.

The crackling of the fire and the sweet smell of cinnamon and honey lulled Calix into a shallow happiness, his fingers tenderly caressing Beatrice’s skin as he pulled her close to him. In the silence, the unusual quietness in a room which had heard everything, Calix felt a small pang of disappointment, a spike of sorrow in his momentary relief.

“You know,” he said, looking around the Den at his unlikely company, friends he’d grown so close to, “This is probably the last time we’ll all be here, just us in this little room. Hasn’t it been one fucked up year?”

“Ugh, don’t get me started,” Mel groaned, absently reaching to touch the bruised skin on the back of her head. Thinking about everything that had happened gave her a headache.

“Yeah, best to forget most of it,” Calix chuckled, “I know I will be trying to forget as much as I can.”

Enzo pressed his tongue into his cheek, exhaling slowly as he listened into their conversation. “I don’t know if I want to,” he said, eyes flicking to the faces around him. “It’s been hard, and there has been a lot of destruction, but I doubt trying to forget it is going to do us much good.”

Beatrice quietly nodded in agreement and looked over at the brooding Frenchman with a small pout. “Somebody has to return. Besides, we’ve all come this far, and yes, while I can say there’s been a great deal of loss, if you leave with the goal in mind of never returning, that question of ‘what if’ is always gonna plague you,” she said. “And you’ve spent the past five years here working to achieve something. You’re really gonna stop just before the finish line because the person waving the flag at the end has changed?”

Enzo snorted softly, shaking his head at Beatrice’s explanation. “Well said.”

“We still don’t know if Helena will keep her word,” Natasha pointed out. “We have no idea what’s going to happen here.”

“Isn’t it better to take a risk than always be left wondering though?” Beatrice asked, drumming her fingers on Calix’s knee. “The future isn’t certain. That much we know for sure.”

“Can’t be any worse than what we went through this year,” Enzo offered.

Mel shrugged, tapping her fingers against her knee in agitation. “I’m not going to quit with one year left. I don’t care if Voldemort himself shows up next year, I’m finishing my damn school year.”

Enzo chuckled, rubbing Melanie’s arm. “Me too.” He looked around the room, hoping the others would be unanimous in their decision to return, as well.

Calix admired the group’s tenacity, Mel’s humour bringing a bright smile to his lips. He leaned his head against Beatrice, exhaling slowly and deeply into her jet black curls, wondering whether he had the same balding fire within himself, or whether he truly meant to abandon the past year in the abyss, stealing only the memories of those around him. They were almost the only good thing that happened.

“I haven’t decided yet. I might like to skip a run-in with Voldemort” Calix muttered lightly, “I’ll make up my mind when I get home.”

Natasha sighed, shaking her head. “I’ll have to think about it, too.” She didn’t want to just give up on everything, but so much had happened. It might be easier to just...move on.

Enzo nodded idly at their words, biting the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Well, whatever happens… thank you all. I… don’t know if I would still be here without you.”

“We couldn’t let you die, Enzo,” Calix smiled at Enzo’s mutterance, the shadow of his own near-death experience looming over him and darkening his stormy eyes. Calix had a lot to be thankful for too. “We’re friends. We look out for each other. The five of us. Whatever happens, we’re friends through thick and thin, bound by… something.”

“Bad luck,” Enzo said, sighing contently.

“Or stunning good looks,” Mel chimed in.

“Star-crossed fate?” Beatrice suggested with a small smile.

Natasha smiled faintly, shaking her head at the others’ suggestions. “Whatever it was, it seems to have chosen well.”

The five members of the unlikely company sat in their hideaway for a few minutes more as the last moon of the school year rose into the sky, taking in the past five months of their lives before they each stood, one by one, and exited, both prepared and unprepared for the road ahead.

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Two-Hundred Thirty-Two: Beatrice/Calix

Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.

After hearing everything the professors had to say at the debriefing- stay inside, use the buddy system if you have to go to the bathroom, stay away from windows -Beatrice had had enough. Her friends were alive, the school was safe, and she was tired. The echoing chatter bouncing off the walls of the Great Hall was enough to give her a headache. While friends celebrated and enemies made peace, the young witch was discontented with the fact she could do neither.

She stepped outside the doors of the Great Hall, her arms crossed over her snagged green knit jumper, rust-colored stains pooling around each tear in the soft yarn. Leaning in the doorway, she stared out at the hallway, a saddened smile pulling at her tired lips as she remembered Halina strutting up and down the staircase, wearing reckless abandon about her shoulders like armor. She could almost see the vivacious politician in training sitting on a bench in the hall, a heavy law textbook in her lap, and a delicate purse by her side, mentally undressing every man who walked past her.

Beatrice glanced over her shoulder, checking nobody was watching as she slipped from the Great Hall out into the corridor, heading towards the splintered double doors a couple of charms majors were fastidiously working to put back together. Leaning against the intricately carved banister of the staircase outside the Infirmary, she stood staring out at the dawn of a new day staining the sky a soft yellow.

Hallie would have loved to have seen this sunrise.

The infirmary had been a hive of voracious activity throughout the night, a sweltering mine of rich relief and exhausting exasperation. Calix, after wiping away the tears of happiness that clouded his eyes, threw himself into helping those around him, working expertly alongside Doctor Evans. Those who had been injured in the rising were cooped up in the infirmary, stacked together like caged birds on beds, chairs, windowsills and even on the floor, while those you had returned to them, those reborn from the green ashes of magic, were clustered in the storeroom until Calix and Evans got a chance to look at them properly.

He spent a few hours in the infirmary, an endless recital of spells and charms in archaic languages rolling from his tongue like memorised poetry. While he moved from patient to patient, some laughing deliriously, some quite like stone and some conversing in hushed but grateful times, Calix was glad that Sam and Tysoe had offered to stay the night, their lent hands greatly appreciated for minor errands, tasks, and runs. Eventually, as the golden morning rays began to poke through the windows, Calix forced himself to retire. There was very little else he could do, when all his magic was spent, except getting lost in his own thoughts.

He passed out of the infirmary, stepping out into the quiet corridor, colored straw-yellow by the rising sun, wringing his raw and tired hands together as the vitality sigils carved into the back of his hands burned out.

Beatrice tore her gaze away from the gold swept clouds outside, smiling as she looked over at Calix just leaving the hospital wing. Pushing off the mahogany banister, she took a few steps towards the man, her small, cold hands outstretched towards his. “Hey there, stranger. You okay?”

The sweet sound brought a smile to Calix’s tired lips, the edges of his mouth cracking. He gently took Beatrice’s hands in his and pulled her close, wincing a little, but braving the pain.

“Hey there, love. I’m… I’m alive, I suppose. How are you?”

“Tired.” She looked at his hands, his skin red and flaking, having been scrubbed raw over the course of the night. “Oh, dear. Maybe for Valentine’s Day this year I should get you a bottle of extra strength hand lotion,” she teased, wrapping her arms lightly around his waist, burying her face in his chest. “Too bad I already got you a gift.”

Calix groaned heavily, Beatrice’s hold putting unwanted pressure on his shoulder joint. A sharp pain darted across his back, traveling down along his spine, and sending a shudder through his body, a reflexive, involuntary recoil.

“My hands are always gonna be this way, love,” Calix tried to chuckle through the pain, “And what do you mean you already got me a gift? Really?”

Beatrice nodded took a step back and pulled the collar of her jumper away from her skin, lifting a set of three stainless steel keys on a silver chain from around her neck. She deftly unclasped the necklace, and took one of the keys off, stashing it in the pocket of her ripped blue jeans before handing the others to him. “To the Observatory. One for you, and one for Ryker,” she explained quietly. “Happy Valentine’s Day, pele.”

“The Observatory?” Calix asked, looking down at the two keys in his hand, the smooth metal beautiful engraved and charged with magical energy. He stared at the early Valentine’s gift without saying another word for a moment, mesmerised by both of them.

“One for Ryker? And me? You mean…”

“I was wondering if the two of you would like to come and live with me in my new house. We have seven months before school starts, and I’m sure my mother would be happy to have somebody as bright and talented as you working with her. And I think Ryker would really like living in Samoa with us. He’d have his own room and there’s a pool and a library in the Observatory, and we’re at the top of the mountain so he wouldn’t have to worry about what the neighbors might think. I know Mahana and Keise would be happy to welcome him to the family too,” she babbled, finally taking a breath when she realized she was dangerously light headed.

She laced her fingers together and held her clasped hands steadily in front of her, slowly rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, the chill radiating off the polished wooden floor seeping through the worn soles of her Toms. “What do you think?”

The gears inside Calix’s mind churned sluggishly, struggling to properly process the torrent of information. Calix fixated on the keys for a moment longer, slowly curling his coarse fingers around them until the jagged teeth bit harshly into the palm of his hand.

Glancing up, Calix stepped closer and drew Beatrice into a hearty embrace, clenching his teeth but holding to his chest her as tightly as he could.

“I love you, Beatrice,” he whispered, “I love you so much.”

“And I love you, Calix,” she mumbled into his chest, the sweet smell of cherry blossoms whirling around her head like a cloud of cotton candy. “Please tell me that’s a yes,” she said as she pulled back a bit, staring up into his eyes, her hand tenderly cupping his cheek in her soft palm.

“Are you joking?” Calix laughed, throwing his head back at the innocence of her worrying and the pleading look in her star-filled eyes.

“Bea, I’m not sure if I’m ever coming back here again, but whatever happens, I’m never letting you go, love,” he whispered, pressing his lips to hers in a tender lock, “It’s yes, a million times yes.”

She kissed him again and again until her toes began to cramp and she had to stand down on solid ground once more, her ear resting on his chest, the steady, reliable beat of his heart counting each moment as it passed. Whatever had happened this year, losing friends, saying goodbye to mortal enemies, and nearly falling apart more times than she could count, she had to thank this magical place for carrying her own little world to a grinding halt so she could see the heavens beyond.

It was worth it.

Stood there with Calix, basking in the glow of a new day, the dew frozen solid on blades of grass in the meadow beyond the castle, a bittersweet chill cleansing the air as the occupants of a castle would soon have to set forth into a new world, Beatrice closed her eyes and let it all wash over her. She would return to Idorna when the time came because it’s where her life changed forever and more than anything, she wanted to discover what else the stars had in store for her. “I can’t wait.”

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Two-Hundred Thirty-One: Calix

The jaded starlight crept through the windows of the castle, laying down dim splotches of illumination on the stone floors like a misshapen path of stepping stones from the Great Hall, where those who had survived gathered in gloomy groups, to the infirmary. Calix followed the pale trail, stopping by one of the glassy portals and gazed out at the courtyard with a heavy heart. He stayed there, his head resting against the wooden frame, enthralled by the nothingness outside.

The Isle, inexplicably stripped bare of any semblance of war or strife, was shrouded in an eerie silence, a veil of uneasy quietness that could be felt in the air like wafting smoke. Calix expected to find fire in the courtyard as he returned from the forest with Beatrice, envisaged bloodied corpses and bone-white butchery from which the dark smog would rise. But, to his utmost surprise, he found nothing. There was not one dead memory of what had happened.

Idorna had been picked clean.

Shaking his head, he stepped away from the window. He would go complete insane if he stared at the polished cobblestones any longer, trying to figure out how one girl, trapped in a mountainous prison, could magic away all her wrongdoings, all her sister’s immorality, all her lonely servant’s sin and bring life to those who had drawn their final breaths against every natural law that existed.

It just didn’t make sense.

Noise echoed from the infirmary as he got closer, the pale light snuffed out by the brilliant white spilling out into the corridor from the heart of the healer’s second home at school. Although, Idorna didn’t feel like home to him anymore - it hardly felt like anything other than a graveyard.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he stepped over the threshold, trying to distract himself from thoughts of the Gladur niggling at the back of his mind and to focus on whatever awaited in the hospital room. As he lifted his leg, a forceful weight knocked the air clear out of his chest, his body thrown backwards by the brunt impact. He stumbled wildly, catching his balance before he fell onto the hard floor, and opened his eyes in panic.

His immediate line of sight was obscured by dark wool, his forehead pressed against the rough stitching, and yet a tremendous relief set in when he heard a familiar voice ring in his ear.

“Cal,” Sam roared, his arms wrapped tightly around Calix, “Fucking hell, man, where the fuck have you been!”

“I… I...” Calix mumbled, gasping for air and clapping his friend on the back.

“Fuck it, forget it, you’re here now! Don’t scare me like that again though, Cal!”

Calix slowly peeled himself away from Sam’s grasp: “I’m sorry, I… I just got stuck in the middle of it all…”

“I bet you did,” Sam said, putting an arm around Calix’s shoulders and dragging him into the infirmary. “I bet you lot fixed this huge mess!”

A small sigh escaped Calix, his head shaking from side to side. If he were to be honest, he was beginning to wonder how much impact his unlikely company had had on the course of events, whether the happy ending was a result of their meddling endeavours, or whether things would have worked out better had they never bothered to intervene.

“By Merlin’s beard, there he is!”

Calix was snapped from his reverie by a second, heartfelt hug. He smiled brightly as Doctor Evans, looking a little weather-beaten but alive, threw her two arms around Calix’s waist. Calix softly hugged her back, biting down hard on his lip as the maelstrom brought thunderous reactions and a teary eye.

“You…”

“I’m still here, my boy,” Evans whispered, “Still here. I may have some persistent back pain, but I’m perfectly capable of throwing a punch in a perilous situation!”

“She’s not lying,” Sam said with a chuckle, “We got some help, but Doc and I really stuck it to those vampires!”

Calix raised his eyebrows when Sam referred to the mediwitch as ‘Doc’, but Evans playfully slapped Sam on the shoulder, practically buzzing with a childish glee.

“That reminds me, I do think we should thank you for sending that help, Calix,” Evans said, “I don’t think we would have made it through the night without it, despite our ‘sticking of it to them’. Is that how one says that?”

“What help?” Calix asked, “I didn’t…”

“Over there,” Sam said, pointing down the infirmary towards one of the beds.

Calix followed his friend’s outstretched finger, wondering who or what help he had unknowingly sent to the people he cared about. He couldn’t remember asking anyone to help. When the doors had been destroyed, Calix, like the rest of the company, had taken to the forest without many other thoughts.

Standing by the bed, carefully wrapping a bandage around a young student’s arm, was another familiar - albeit newer - face.

Tysoe Rus.

“He came here looking for you,” Sam explained, folding his arms across his chest, “Something about owing you a life debt or something. Whatever the reason, he and several other duelists, ended up staying with us and we made our stand here.”

Calix felt his jaw tightened as he looked back towards Sam, his goofy smile plastered across his face. All of the people he cared about, all of the people he loved, were still with him, still alive. He knew he - and everyone else - would soon be mourning those they had lost, but in that moment, Calix just felt grateful to be surrounded by the people who meant the most to him, in spite of everything that threatened to rip them apart.

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Two-Hundred Thirty: Natasha

Five. There were five people Natasha wanted to see alive in the Great Hall. Beyond that, she wouldn’t deeply care about anyone else. As long as she found those five, she would be able to make her peace with everything that had happened. Or at least, she hoped she would.

Her dark eyes scanned the large room, which felt painfully empty now compared to how full it used to be. Natasha didn’t know how many had perished that night, and she was sure she didn’t want to. Besides, it wasn’t her concern at the moment. She was searching for familiar faces, even though she’d seen Enzo return to the castle after the Forsaken were called back, had walked back with Melanie, could assume that Helena let Beatrice and Calix go. She just had to make sure.

Finally, her gaze landed on two of the people she was looking for. Beatrice and Calix, seated together. She could only imagine how much more attached to each other they would be after this. It wasn’t likely that anyone would be able to pry them apart anytime soon. Not that Natasha had any intention to.

One, two.

She continued looking after ensuring the pair was alright, although it didn’t take her long to find the rest of her unlikely company. It seemed that Enzo and Mel had found each other, as they were wrapped up in each others arms, seemingly not caring who could see them as they held onto each other. They, too, were taking comfort in each other’s presence, and besides a few minor injuries, seemed to be okay.

Three, four.

That left one more. Natasha began to search the Great Hall once again, but this time, it took longer for her gaze to land on the subject of her search. Maria was concealed among a group of her friends, mostly Cucurrions mixed with a few Ibinias and an Aquilen, drinking a cup of tea and nodding solemnly at what someone was telling her. The blonde didn’t appear to have sustained any more serious injuries since Natasha last saw her, which felt like years ago, now. Maria was surrounded by friends, which meant there were people there to help her, should she need it in some way.

Five.

That was everyone. Everyone at Idorna that Natasha cared about was alive and well and had people to help them through dealing with everything that had happened. Despite the pain radiating from her head and her back, and the number of people that had died on Isle Velum that night, a faint smile spread across her lips. Somehow, through everything, they had made it.

After a few more minutes of observing the survivors, Natasha turned away, finding an isolated corner to take a seat in. She didn’t want to stay among all of the people hugging friends, embracing lovers, leaning on the people close to them for support. It was just...too much. But she couldn’t leave yet, so she just closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall, hoping to get a bit of rest before the professors announced what was going to happen to them. 

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Two-Hundred Twenty-Nine: Mel and Enzo

Unfamiliar peace settled across the castle grounds. Mel was stunned to see that all trace of a battle had vanished like it was whisked away. After parting ways with Natasha, Mel found herself wandering through the snow in a daze, the first beams of sunlight beginning to creep over the treeline.

What did she do? Is it really over?

The more she walked, she realized the blow she’d taken to the head had really done in her in. It was difficult for her to walk in a straight line, the world fading in and out of focus.

So naturally, when a crying mess collided with her, it sent her sprawling onto the snowy ground.

“Mel. Dieu merci, vous êtes en sécurité. J'ai été inquiet malade.”

Mel groaned, but relief washed over her all the same.

“Ella. You’re okay.”

Ella pulled herself away, wiping her tear-stained cheeks. She had a nasty gash running across her forehead and a split lip, but she otherwise looked unharmed.

“What’s going on?” Ella whispered. “Is it over? Are we safe? Everything just...stopped.”

“I…” Mel sighed, looking over her shoulder towards the forest. “Maybe. It’s a long story. But I’m hoping...yes.”

Ella nodded, her eyes wandering across the now non-existent battlefield. She didn’t ask any further questions - Mel didn’t blame her. It probably would have been too exhausting to explain the whole situation anyway.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Ella whispered, her voice wavering. “Many were not so lucky.”

“Yeah…”

It was all Mel could say in response. She’d expected to be met with carnage when she returned, but besides the blood splattered across the various students roaming the grounds, it was like the slate had been wiped clean. Not even a body remained to mourn over. The Forsaken gone, their destruction gone with them.

It was then a thought struck her, and she scrambled to her feet. She held out a hand to Ella and when they were eye-level, she gripped her by the arms.

“Andre,” she breathed. “Ella, have you seen him?”

“Then I… just ran back to see you,” Enzo said, finishing his story.

He knew it was wrong - that Helena told him to keep her identity a secret - but Andre, of all people, shouldn’t have been denied the truth. Enzo wondered if Helena could see them even now. Most likely.

Andre’s voice dropped low, his eyes almost popping out of his head. “Liara? Really…? And… her sister brought me back?”

“Shh,” Enzo hissed, looking around to make sure that no one was eavesdropping. They were all preoccupied with something or other. Either speaking to their friends, crying over the death of a lost loved one, or sipping  on the tea that hovered around the room on saucers. “But yes…”

Across the way, Enzo saw Beatrice and Calix together, looking glum but at least stable. His eyes eventually found Natasha standing not far from the Cucurrion table, looking as distant as ever. He would speak to them about everything soon, but he thought it was best to leave them to it for the night.

But where is she?

“You swear you’re not lying?” Mel pressed as they entered the Great Hall. “He’s really okay?”

“I just saw him literally ten minutes ago,” Ella said impatiently.

Enzo’s head perked up as he saw two women enter the Great Hall. Ella looked scarred and beaten, but otherwise stable. He didn’t know the girl well, but he was glad to see her alive. The other seemed to light up the room as soon as she walked in, looking around frantically.

“Go ahead,” Andre said, nudging his arm.

Enzo raised an eyebrow, pretending he was just looking around the room. “Hm? No, it’s fine.”

“Enzo… go.”

Enzo did not want to leave Andre’s side - not when he had only just gotten him back, but his friend’s relaxed, ‘shut-the-hell-up’ look forced Enzo to grin and nod before standing up.

He felt his heart tighten in his chest as he made his way along the sidewall of the Great Hall, his eyes never once leaving Melanie. As he finally approached her, stepping over people taking seats and hugging on the floor, he cleared his throat.

“Melanie…”  

“Enzo,” said Mel, wrapping her arms around him. She quickly pulled away smacking him on the arm. “You’ve gotta stop taking off through the woods!”

He flinched slightly as she smacked him, unable to help the smile that came to his lips as she pulled away.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

He looked over to Melanie’s friend, watching them. “Ella, c'est bon de te voir en vie.”

“Toi aussi, Enzo.” She smiled at them, giving Mel a squeeze on the arm. “I’m going to grab some food. I’ll catch up later.”

Mel waved her off, watching her go a moment before focusing on Andre across the room.

“I can’t believe it,” she murmured. “Helena actually did it?”

Enzo nodded, following her gaze to his friend who started chatting with a few of the Aquilens. “She did… I don’t know how, but… she did.”

He looked back at her, his eyes having to trail downwards to catch hers, glistening up at him. After their time in the Gladur, mundane small talk felt somehow incorrect, but he had to ask. “How are you? I mean… it was… bad, but how are you feeling? You’re not hurt, are you?”

He idly reached out, touching the side of her head, just a few inches under a small cut behind her hair.

Mel shrugged, flinching when his fingers touched the tender skin.

“I’m alive,” she replied. “I might be mildly concussed. But what else is new? Are you okay?”

He smiled slightly at her words, his fingers trailing downwards and his hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over the bone.

“I am now,” he said before slowly pulling her into a hug, bringing her turned head against his chest. He kept one hand pressed against her lower back and the other rubbing small circles between her shoulder blades. “I love you,” he said into her hair. Even through the dirt and blood, he could smell the familiar pine scent.

“I love you too,” she whispered, inexplicable tears springing to her eyes. She didn’t fight them, simply blinked them out of her eyes. “How are we even alive, Enzo? What happens now?”

He sighed, continuing to rock her back and forth gently. Public displays of affection were one of Enzo’s biggest pet peeves, but now, all of that washed away and was soaked into Melanie’s skin.

“No idea,” he said slowly. “And I don’t really care, so long as we’re safe.”

She nodded, tightening her grip on him. After all of the chasing after him she’d done that night, she wasn’t about to let him go anytime soon.

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Two-Hundred Twenty-Eight: Enzo

Enzo couldn’t be bothered to listen if anyone was calling for him. He tore through the Gladur Forest, praying that what Helena did was honest. She could be playing with him, leading him astray. She could be a lot of things, but what she promised outweighed his doubts.

He leaped over logs and ducked under branches, just as he did when he entered earlier, but with a very much different state of mind. Horrors were committed tonight, but this was the one thing he could be thankful for.

He saw Idorna through the breaks in the leaves and quickened his pace. Soon, he broke through the treeline and into the fields outside of the castle. He wholeheartedly expected to see hundreds of bodies littering the snow outside the front gates, but there was nothing. No bodies, no Forsaken, not even a trace of blood that was not already on the survivors. There were only the surviving students, milling about, looking as stunned as the day they were born. 

Seems Helena did more than just bring back the dead.

Enzo pushed forward, past the shouts of confusion and cries of pain and sorrow. Doctor Evans and the rest of the professors rushed into the crowd, doing their best to aid who they could. The sky overhead was dark, but the moon was full, and it reflected off of the snow, shining into the faces of every student he passed.

“Enzo!”

The Frenchman stopped dead in his tracks, turning around to where the voice came from. There was a flood of bodies around him, obscuring his view. His heart began to swell, though, because the Bulgarian accent couldn’t belong to anyone else.

Enzo stood there, looking around desperately, unable to find the source. And then it sunk in…

This was a trick.

She was lying to us.

She’s the villain.

She’s probably is killing the others as I stand here, looking for a ghost.

And before he could turn back to the Gladur, a force slammed into his back. Two hands rose to Enzo’s face, smacking his cheeks - the same way he would be woken up if he slept in on a Potions exam.

Enzo spun, his heart ascending into his throat when his eyes fell on the Care for Magical Creatures major. He looked the same - the very same. His dark hair was disheveled, his brown eyes always darting around, and there was his signature goofy grin plastered on his narrow face.

“I… I...” Enzo sputtered, not knowing what to say.

Andre seemed to be able to take the lead. “You’re an asshole, Bellerose.”

Enzo furrowed his eyebrows, biting down on the inside of his cheek. “What?”

“You cannot honestly tell me that you didn’t see that goddamn spell behind me,” he replied, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “A good friend would have shoved me away and died himself.”

“Shut up,” Enzo said, throwing his fist into Andre’s shoulder, making him stumble. “For once in your fucking life, stop making shitty jokes.”

Shaking his head, Andre laughed. “It’s good to see you, too.”

Enzo didn’t respond with words; he stepped forwards, throwing his arms around the shorter man, not noticing he was shaking like a leaf until he had something in his grasp. Andre hugged him too, patting his friend’s back.

When Enzo finally pulled away after thirty seconds or so, he let out a ragged breath, finding it hard to speak with the lump in his throat. He didn’t know if it was insensitive to ask, but he did anyway. “How did it feel?”

“Oh, dying?”

Enzo grunted in response.

“Wonderful, as one would assume,” Andre said, cocking his head towards the castle. The boys made their way towards the stairs that Doctor Evans was beckoning all of the surviving students towards.

“Seriously,” Enzo muttered as they entered the school, being forced into the Great Hall. “Was there… you know… another side?”

Andre chuckled, shrugging. “If there was, I don’t remember. It was like blinking. Once second, the spell hit me, and the next, I was waking up, covered in snow, and those damn vampires were gone. No dead bodies. Just… us.”

Enzo took it in, nodding slowly as they were sat at the Aquilen table, hundreds upon hundreds of students making their way in to sit around them. He looked all around for the others, but there were too many students; he couldn’t see anyone. He thought back to Helena, wondering if she was going to make an appearance. Probably not.

“So,” Andre said. “We know what went wrong… But what about you and your crew? I assume… it’s done? What went right?”

Enzo thought back to his friends, standing together as Mount Helvití cracked open, little fear in his veins as he knew that they were at his side. Until this year, it was never something he had thought would happen in his life. He never thought he would have four others to care about him enough to fight with him - no matter how small or large the situation was. 

So Enzo opened his mouth, ready to explain everything. “Well…”   

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Two-Hundred Twenty-Seven: Unlikely Company

Nothing but blinding rage passed through Enzo’s mind as he leapt over fallen trees and ducked under low branches, the tip of his wand illuminated to keep him from crashing. His hair was slicked to his forehead now, sweat running down his neck, soaking his back as pushed farther into the Gladur. However, he could hardly notice. It was almost as if every rational sense had fled his body and was watching silently from above.

He heard Melanie calling to him from behind, but he didn’t pay her any mind. He could feel a knock on the back of his skull telling him to turn around and wait for her, but it did not push through to his brain. There was only fire.

“Chantal!” he whooped, his voice roaring through the leaves. “Where are you?!”

Frustrated tears pricked at Mel’s eyes as she chased after him. She could hear him calling after Chantal, but his form had quickly vanished into the density of the trees. She desperately shone her wandlight over her surroundings, but the darkness was all-encompassing. It was all she could do to follow his voice.

“Enzo!” she screamed. “Please, come back!”

Familiar voices echoed through the woods, indicating to Natasha that at least she was heading in the right direction. She raised her wand a little higher as she moved through the trees, trying her hardest to avoid the branches that seemed to materialize out of nowhere in the darkness. She did her best to stay quiet, but her main priority was catching up with Enzo and Melanie before they got themselves killed.

Calix, clutching Beatrice’s hand in his, rushed through the forest, followed the faint snaps and distant cracks, the roars and shouts, the sounds of his friends and their high-drawn emotions. He had his wand raised above his head, a soft lumos at the top guiding the way and a red shield that drove clawing branches away from Calix’s face.

His grip on his girlfriend’s delicate fingers got tighter and tighter the closer the noises got, the more the nonsensical pathway through the forest started to become memorable, and the more he worried for the people around him.

Shoving aside memories of being goaded down the uncompromising pass, the murky twilight zone exhausting the Samoan witch of happy memories and hopeful dreams. Beatrice wrinkled her nose, her vice-like grasp on her holly wand distracting her from the acute pinching pain Calix caused, well-meaning as he was.

“Where the hell are they?” she hissed, the sting of Iceland’s subzero temperatures cutting across her poorly concealed tan skin, bringing a raw, dry crack to her bare hands. Flashes of a moonless stroll through the onyx strewn wood earlier that year fluttered around her cluttered mind like moths drawn to candlelight, plaguing the young witch who was steadfastly determined to make the depraved villain feigning misguided morals to answer for his crimes at the mercy of her wand.

“I bet they’re going to that rock, just follow the noise,” Calix huffed, his breath hanging in the air like it did on Halloween when Chantal had set their whole lives off kilter.

Enzo finally came to a halt after ten or so minutes of sprinting, his ragged breaths almost louder than his screams for Chantal to show herself.

He hunched over, his hands in his knees, arms shaking violently in anger.

Mel eventually came across Enzo’s hunched form. Panic seized her - something had to be wrong.

“Enzo!” she cried, running to his side. She placed a hand on his back and watched it rapidly rise and fall with the rhythm of his breathing. “Are you okay?”

“I’m… going… to kill her,” he said between breaths, an unnatural growl in his tone as he felt Melanie’s hand on his back.

“You need to calm down,” she said firmly. “Clear your head. If you keep after her the way you are now she’ll kill you without a second thought.”

A million thoughts surged through his mind, but one took the forefront. “Andre…”

She gripped the fabric of his shirt. “We’ll get her, Enzo. But we need to be smart.”

After several minutes of running through the Gladur, chasing her friends' distant shouting that was only growing quieter, Natasha heard the forest go silent. It was sudden, too sudden for them to have just left her earshot. A lead weight dropped in her stomach, fearing the worst, but she tried not to dwell on it. Instead, she extinguished her wand and slowed her pace, both to help conceal herself and to try to navigate the forest now without her light.

A few more minutes, and finally, the German could see a faint glow of light through the trees. She approached it quietly, and an audible sigh of relief escaped her lips when she was close enough to see that it was, in fact, Enzo and Melanie. She pushed through the last of the branches between them, still holding her wand tightly, just in case.

"Chantal is back?" she asked as soon as she reached the pair, having caught the name of the blonde from Enzo's echoing shouts.

Enzo shuddered when he heard the familiar voice, finally straightening his back and nodding before aiming his wand to his lips, casting ‘aguamenti,’ filling his mouth with clear water that dribbled down his chin before he swallowed.

“What are you doing here?” he asked finally, sane enough to now be thankful that she was alive. He wondered where Beatrice and Calix were.

“Melanie sent a patronus,” Natasha explained, glancing at the blonde for a moment before turning her eyes back to Enzo. “I assumed you either found Ibori or needed help.”

Enzo sniffed, running the back of his hand over his mouth. “We found worse. And the others, were they called?”

Beatrice emerged from the shadows with Calix in tow, her pale pink lips pursed tightly together though her chest rose and fell quickly like the tides rising on the shore far away, her heart racing erratically. “Enzo, what the fuck, man?” she coughed, dropping the Irishman’s hand to rest against a large boulder nearby. “What happened to doing this as a team?”

Enzo looked at Melanie when he heard Beatrice’s tone, shaking his head slightly. “I can’t do this… Not with… all of this on my back.”

Mel squeezed his shoulder gently before stepping away, glancing around the group.

“Don’t blame him,” she said quietly. “Andre, he…” She didn’t want to finish. Enzo was in enough pain. Instead, she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I think Chantal is trying to lure us into the forest. For what, I don’t know. But now that we’re all together, we stand more of a chance.”

“I’m guessing they’re expecting us,” Natasha pointed out. “There’s no way this isn’t some sort of trap.”

‘Andre? Poor Enzo,’ Calix thought after gathering himself, helping Beatrice to stand steady, a loving but cautionary arm around her, and glancing around the mismatched group. It was too easy to ponder how many more would die before sunrise, and how many of their closest friends would be waiting for them if the company managed to escape the Gladur alive.

“It’s a guaranteed trap,” the healer whispered, realising their reversal of fate; the trappers had become the trapped, the snare baited with fury for Chantal and Andre’s blood. “Dead students are no use, remember. Whoever is bossing Ibori around needs us here alive.”

“Well I’m ready to show whoever it is that I am very much alive,” Enzo said, his grip so tight on his wand that the wood groaned under the pressure.

“Just don’t go barrelling off through the woods again. You’re gonna get yourself killed and if we’re gonna survive the night, we need to work together,” Beatrice muttered, tilting her head side to side with her jaw jutted out, relishing the cracking noises her neck made. “We need you alive more than we need them dead.”

Enzo wanted to scream, to punch something, to break down and cry, but he knew they were right. He took a moment, turning away from them and pacing a few steps, using his free hand to rest on the bridge of his broken nose while he took deep breaths - inhaling deeply and exhaling loudly - attempting to rid his brain of the vivid image of Andre’s body falling onto him.

A firmer grip on Beatrice’s waist hopefully conveyed her boyfriend’s unspoken words when her bristling tone took flight, Calix’s stormy eyes fixing on Enzo for a moment. The Frenchman was pacing, and he looked broken. More so than Calix had ever seen him.

“Come on,” Calix said, stepping closer to Mel and Natasha, “We need a plan, not that we know much about what’s going on. Enzo, come on, we need you too.”

Beatrice nodded slowly and crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her weight so she was leaning into the pacifying Irishman’s side, the freezing air finally getting to her as she stood still, not daring to make any additional, unnecessary sound. “They went up to the mountain probably. That’s a good place to start.”

‘Wonderful hunch, Beatrice,’ Enzo thought to himself as he returned to the group, placing his hands on his hips. “It’s the only landmark in the forest we know they have ties to,” he muttered, he voice hoarse from screaming. “I cannot see them being anywhere else.”

Mel nodded resolutely, sparks erupting from the tip of her wand as she anticipated the battle ahead of them.

“Then let’s go,” she said, “and teach them to stop fucking with us.”

“Is the plan for us to just charge in together?” Natasha asked, sarcasm coloring her tone. She’d been prepared to not make it out of this before, but walking headfirst into a trap was something she had a hard time accepting.

“Is charging in the best idea?” Calix questioned, “I bet they’re waiting for us, and they’ve got a lot more planned than we do.”

He stepped back from the group, slipping from Beatrice’s grasp, and turned away from the path to the lion’s den. The mountain loomed behind him, and he knew that going further meant they needed all the protection they could muster. Enzo and Natasha were fighters, Beatrice unnervingly had shown a capacity to fight too, and Mel could hold her own in a pinch; Calix couldn’t do what they could do, so he started casting a barrage of protego spells under his breath, light red threads forming between the company.

“Maybe…” Natasha sighed, shaking her head. It was clear that they were walking into some sort of ambush, but without knowing how many people they were facing, it was hard to formulate any sort of plan. “We either need to split up and try to come in at different angles, so it’s harder for them to pin us all down, or we need to all go together. My guess is that they’re expecting us to take the most direct route one or two at a time.”

Enzo was about to speak when he heard the loud crack from behind him. He spun on his heels, turning to look at the mountain where a brilliant show of white light danced between the trunks of the trees blocking his few. It stayed silent and dark for another moment… and then there was another crack, and another, and another, each bringing about a stronger burst of light through the dark forest.  

“We don’t have time,” he said. “Everyone split up and keep to the edge of the clearing.”

This is it.

Enzo kept low to the ground as the group split apart, trying his best to keep from stomping the soil with his boots. Beads of sweat continued to trickle down his face as he neared Mount Helviti, the rays of light only getting stronger as he got closer.

That was when he heard the voices.

One was clearly Chantal: “Down, now!”

“Crucio!” The other one was Ibori…

He was here… And…

They’re fighting each other?

Enzo neared the clearing, clenching his jaw he took behind the trunk of a large oak. The voices continued screaming at each other and firing curses and hexes, igniting the clearing with white, green, red, and yellow sparks, each sounding more powerful than the next.

He could not see the rest of his unlikely company through the trees, but he hoped they were all in position in case he was seen, ready to jump to his side.

Pull through.

In inhaled slowly and exhaled shakily, each breath longer than the last, before he slowly moved his head to get a good look at the clearing.

As expected, he saw brilliant rays of light, almost blinding now, being fire back and forth between two sides of the clearing, the mountain in the middle of them, almost like a judge. It was hard to make out who was fighting who, but he was soon able to make out Chantal’s frame, her blonde hair tied into a tight pony-tail as green spat from her wand. He looked at her back, thinking about how easy it would be to kill her then and there. Blindsided, just like she had killed Andre. But the others’ words rang in his head. He knew it would ruin everything they had planned, so he grit his teeth and forced himself to stay hidden. He half expected to see Ibori on the opposite side, firing back at his once-partner, but he appeared beside her, shielding her from oncoming spells as she fire back.

Then who was fighting them…?

Enzo’s question was shortly answered when there was a momentary break in the brawl, and the light had dimmed to a low glow… and there she was: Headmistress Liara. Alive. Fighting Ibori and Chantal. Enzo’s heart rose in his chest, glad to see her face, regardless of the sunken-in eyes and sallow cheeks. Her gown was tattered and grime covered its once white surface, but she was very much alive.

Before he could think again, the fighting resumed, forcing him back behind the tree.

Beatrice crept along the path, trying to stay hidden in the underbrush as best she could the closer she got to the meadow beside the mountain, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She kept her eyes cast down on the dirt-packed road, keeping her eyes peeled for twigs or branches that would sound their presence, alerting their prey they were coming. She turned her head and saw a figure standing behind a tree, light bouncing off his thick mane of curls and rolled her eyes at Enzo’s antics before going and hiding behind a large rose bush.

Parting the leaves with her wand, she looked through the small peeping hole at Chantal and Ibori fighting Liara. Beatrice sat back on her heels, wondering if she saw that right. Liara’s alive? She carefully poked her head around the bush, her brow furrowed in confusion at the sight of the Headmistress’s wrath aimed at the treacherous potions master and former Aquilen student. 

Why does she look so cross?

The shouting and sparking of spells were unmistakable as Natasha approached the clearing. She was able to momentarily discern the voices of Ibori and Chantal, but there was a third fighter that she couldn't recognize. She just hoped it was someone that could hold their own.

The Cucurrion ducked behind a tree as she reached the edge of the forest, peering around the trunk at the far side of the clearing. She couldn't see any of the others, but knew that they were spread out along the edge. Her gaze then moved towards the people fighting in the middle; with all of the spells flying, it was hard to make out any particular form, but she was eventually able to pick out Ibori and Chantal, largely from the location of their voices. It wasn't until the fighting slowed that she was able to see who their adversary was: Liara.

Where has she been? Why is she fighting them now?

But Natasha knew now was not the time to dwell on that. They had to stop Ibori and Chantal, but they couldn't kill them yet. They still had to figure out what was going on, and stop it before anyone else was killed.

The red threads hummed in Calix’s coarse hand as he kept low to the blackened earth, his wand emitted a dull light that was worthlessly pale in comparison to the bright flashes that exploded in the clearing, tearing the sky apart like fireworks. He stayed close to the forest floor, mist curling around his feet in case a stray spell or curse came hurtling his way.

There was a tree on the higher ground, nestled above the clearing, that Calix sheltered behind, his heart racing in his chest, the threads gripped tightly in his grasp.

‘Keep them safe. Keep them alive.’ He repeated to himself.

He stole one quick glance around the corner, looking down into the bowl at the foot of the mountain. The bright sparks illuminated Ibori, standing beside Chantal, both furiously defending against a powerful assailant. For a split second, Calix didn’t recognise the woman; but his jaw dropped when he saw Liara in the heat of battle.

Liara? Where has she been?

Mel was the last to reach the clearing, fear hindering her movement. She paused at the treeline, the sight of Liara bringing a sharp gasp to her throat. Had she been in the woods this whole time?

She caught sight of the others, the dim sight of wandlight hidden in the trees. She breathed a shaky sigh, waiting to see how this unfolded. She wanted nothing more than to leap forward and help Liara, but it would probably do nothing but get her killed.

The battle raged on for another minute or so, and Enzo watched, breath caught in his throat as he silently begged for Liara to kill Ibori. However, he wanted her to leave Chantal; he wanted to deal with her on his own.

It was then that he saw the robes. There were two of them: an Ibinia and an Aquilen, crumbled to the ground in a heap. He supposed the Aquilen one could have belonged to Chantal, but there was no explaining the Ibinia.

More sacrifices.

“It’s over, Liara!” Ibori hollered towards the Headmistress. “You’ve lost! You can never overcome her.”

Liara sneered, blocking a killing curse from Chantal. Enzo had never seen so much hate in her eyes before before; she was like a rabid animal, thirsty for blood. “You underestimate my power, Yazid.” She said it evenly, but her tone rippled over the spells.

That was when the crack sounded. It was not like lightning or a spell rippling from the tip of a wand. It came from below, forcing the earth to vibrate belligerently. Liara must have been quite weak, because it forced even her to her knees, wand dropping from her hand.

Enzo clung onto the tree he hid behind, both arms wrapped around it as Isle Velum shook beneath him. He tried to keep his vision focused on Chantal and Ibori, but it was futile. It was like he was drunk, his vision blurring in front of him, his head aching as it slammed against the bark of the tree.

Somewhere over the rumbling earth, he heard Chantal cast ‘accio,’ and when the island finally came to a still once more, he could see that Liara’s wand was in Chantal’s free hand. She rose to her feet, shaking it tauntingly at her former Headmistress.

“Looks like you’re out of options, you cunt,” Chantal hissed. “And now I am going to kill you. I am going to kill you with your own wand.”  

Then it happened again - the same, demonic voice, screaming from above:

“Gefast upp. Það er engin flýja fyrir þig núna, elskan mín.”

Enzo was hardly shaken by the voice at this point; all of his attention had been redirected to Chantal who raised her wand towards Liara. She did not need to move her lips for Enzo to be well aware of what spell was about to pour from the tip of the stolen wand.

There was no time for hesitation. He moved from behind the tree, whooping at Chantal to get her attention as he sprinted towards her frame. She had only just turned around to face him when he reached her. He ducked down, his shoulder colliding with her midsection as he tackled her to the soil, her head slamming against it, hard.

He placed one hand around her throat, raising the other into a fist before bringing it down to her nose with every ounce of rage he had swelling within him, knowing that somewhere, Andre was rooting for him. Blood sprayed from her nostrils and lips as she groaned in pain.

“Now!” he called to the others, praying that they were still in the treeline.  

Natasha nearly fell to the ground when the ground started to shake, grabbing a low-hanging branch to keep herself up. Once she had regained her footing, however, she heard shouting and looked up to see Enzo charging into the clearing, which meant she had to be ready to help. As soon as he yelled for them, she stepped into the clearing, knowing there was one other person who they needed to incapacitate.

"Ibori!" she shouted, sending a Stunning Spell in the professor's direction, hoping that, as it was unlikely to actually hit its mark, it would be enough to distract him from the others, who were also emerging.

Ibori turned at the sound of his name, furrowing his brow as a spell was sent towards his chest. He raised his wand, rebounding it with ease, sending it into the gut of none other than Natasha Kraus.

“Stop it, you stupid children!” he hollered, looking back and forth between Enzo and Natasha, knowing the others had to be close by. “No more blood has to be spilled tonight.”

Natasha grunted as the spell collided with her stomach, the force pushing her backwards and dropping her to the ground. She managed to keep her wand in her grasp, although all of the air had been knocked from her lungs and she was having a hard time getting it back. She looked at the treeline as she struggled back to her feet, prepared for another attack from Ibori but searching for the others.

Calix peeked his head around the trunk of the old tree, his back pressed against the hard bark as the earth began to shake and the demonic voice roared above his cave inimicum charm. When he glanced down, he saw Enzo sweep Chantal off her feet and a spell smack Natasha point blank in the chest, her body collapsing to the ground.

He gripped one of the taut threads in his hand, the red connection to the German witch, and muttered a counter-charm under his quickening breath, the energetic magic passing along the thread like a jolt of electricity, followed by several protective spells firing along the separate threads. He then turned his attention to Liara.

Mel sprung into action, her years of living on rocky seas paying off as the shaking ground barely affected her. She practically leapt over Natasha’s fallen body, pointing her wand straight at Ibori. She bit back the urge to give him some witty quip, instead flinging a curse at him while he was still relatively caught off guard.

“Stupefy!”

Ibori was sent backward as Melanie Winter attacked him from the side, his shoulder hit the ground hard and he wheezed. However, he was just able to spring to his feet quickly enough to ready his wand, aiming at the girl who was still heading towards him.

“Levicorpus,” he mouthed, firing it at her feet.

Mel immediately was flung upside down, an invisible force gripping her ankle and hoisting her into the air. She dangled there, her wand slipping from her fingers as she stared helplessly at Ibori.

Beatrice stood still behind a large pine tree, needles falling into her shiny black hair with each tremor that shook the branches high above. She inhaled sharply and pursed her lips, surveying the battle unfolding in front of her very eyes, unsure what she should do, or rather what she could do.

Mel and Natasha had each faced Ibori, trying to take down the burly, domineering potions master who swatted them each aside as if they were house flies. Enzo’s bloodied fist drew back again and again like the hammer on a pistol, rapidly shooting bullets out over a field meant both to wound and to kill, to inflict as much damage as they humanly could. Calix stood not more than a meter away with the red threads held tightly in his deft hands, a litany of spells rolling off his tongue in a sequence that made her skin crawl, sounding too much like a ritualistic chant.

You’re just a useless coward. Go help your friends.

She shook her head and watched as Ibori stepped forward, each step a heavy laborious movement that made the young witch think all that needed to be done to turn the tide in their unlikely favor was a stiff breeze to knock him of his feet. There would be time for him to answer for his crimes later, but right now, he needed a good kick in the ass. She shifted her weight to her right foot and waited patiently as the vehement wizard lumbered towards her friends, pointing her wand at him before shouting a spell at him, hoping to draw his attention away from the others for a moment. “Impedimentia.” Beatrice watched as the man simply smirked and took a step back, not one to be defeated by something so juvenile, and turned his head, watching as the little jinx hurtled towards the feral Headmistress guarding the mountain as if her life depended on it. The Samoan’s jaw dropped, her throat closed, her heart stopped until she saw the powerful sorceress effortlessly deflect it, though it did little to ease the impending cloud of doom surrounding Helviti’s peak high overhead.

Enzo slammed his fists over and over and over again into Chantal’s face. Her nose was in far worse condition than he was now, and he cut his knuckles on the few teeth he knocked away from her gums, which she tried desperately to spit out at him. She was still alive, but only just.

It took him a moment to realize the outbreak of violence to his right; his friends were attacking Ibori, and Ibori was not losing. He saw Melanie hanging by her feet several meters in the air and knew that this personal vendetta had to come to an end.  

Leaning in close to Chantal’s face, he sneered. “Rot in hell.”

He left her on the ground, aiming his wand towards Ibori’s back. He did not know why ‘crucio’ was the first spell to enter his mind, but it was, anger behind every thought.

However, before he was given the chance to cast it, another loud crack sounded, and Enzo turned his head. This time, it did not come from below… it came from the mountain. Yet another crack broke into the forest, and another, and another, each one louder than the last.

Enzo took a few steps away from Chantal’s body and towards his friends, but before he could yell that they should run to cover, a blinding flash of light emerged from Mount Helviti, accompanied by a wave of energy, picking Enzo up and tossing him backwards, his spine connecting with the hard earth at the edge of the clearing.

He coughed and grasped for air, holding his hands up in front of his eyes to shield them from the light that poured from the great stone.

Mel was knocked out of the air, slamming painfully against a tree before falling to the ground. Her head slammed into the earth, and the light that had suddenly erupted from the mountain was nothing more than a blur.

A loud roar echoed through Beatrice’s mind, the vibrations from the ground rattling her bones to their core, her ears ringing like silver bells on Christmas Eve. The whole world went a dazzling blank white, burning her corneas as she was launched into the rose bush, the razor-sharp thorns digging into her skin.

Natasha's gaze darted up to the mountain at the thunderous crack, although she quickly shielded her eyes when the bright light erupted from it. She was close to the mountain, however, and the energy wave coming from it threw her back violently. Her spine collided with a tree, followed by her head. She fell to the ground with a groan, dazed and completely blinded by the light. She couldn't hear, either, and could only hope the others were okay, since she had no way of knowing.

The tree behind Calix splintered into a million shards, the blizzard of spears raining down upon his shoulders. Desperate, he clutched the red threads tightly in his grasp, his ritualistic song-like spells shattered by the explosion of light and replaced by a last-ditch effort to offer some protection to his friends.

He scrunched his eyes closed against the light, the splinters turning to hot dust as they showered through the red mist angrily swirling around his body.

All, except for one: which jaggedly ripped clean through his shoulder bone and agonisingly brought him to his knees.

The light shone so hard that Enzo could almost hear the rays screaming at him. They seemed to penetrate his forearms he used as a barrier to conceal his eyes, and he had to duck his head to ensure that no permanent damage to his sight could be inflicted.

Finally, the light began to dim, and slowly, Enzo lowered his arms. It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the darkness once more; he had to blink over and over again, swatting away the strange shapes that formed in front of his view.

However, they eventually adjusted, and he could see the carnage around him: the unlikely company looked stable, for the most part, though everyone was clearly in pain - Calix seemed to get the worst of it, shrapnel from a tree sticking through his shoulder as he groaned. At least he can heal himself. Chantal’s body laid unconscious a few feet from him, tucked into a ball near the treeline - Enzo could not gauge whether she was alive or not anymore, and he didn’t much care either way. Ibori grunted as he got to his feet once more, and Liara stared at the mountain, her eyes wide and mouth agape. Enzo could not figure what could surprise their Headmistress, but when he followed her line of sight, he understood.

There, standing against the mountain, with one hand pressed against the hard stone, was a figure. As Enzo narrowed his eyes, he could see that it was a girl - a young girl - no older than fifteen. Her brown hair was bobby-pinned close to her head, and she wore a white blouse and black pants.

The Queen.

He couldn’t move, only stare as the girl lifted her hand from the mountain, examining it with a stone-faced curiosity. She looked down at her legs, lifting each one from the ground, bending her knees as if waking up from a year-long coma, getting used to having limbs again.    

Calix roared as the light subsided, searing pain ravaging his body with every breath, a new wave of crippling agony breaking over him with every shallow, ragged gasp for air. He looked down at the huge splinter protruding viciously just to the side of his heart, a growing circle of warm blood staining the front of his shirt.

He glanced over his shoulder, past the shattered tree trunk and down into the cleaning. By the foot of the mountain, as bizarrely innocent as a spring snowdrop in the midst of autumn, a young girl stood, slowly beginning to move her body.

Calix’s heart rushed when he saw her. He looked down at the shrapnel again and pressed his fingers to his cold skin, cursing loudly as a fresh current of pain coursed through his nervous system, a blinding jolt as his magic tried to undo some the damage.

His other hand clenched the red threads, each still connected to ankles of the company, his last link to his friends. He didn’t have time to worry about pain…

The Queen has returned...

When Mel’s vision finally cleared, the girl standing before them was the first thing she saw. Her heartbeat quickened. Without knowing how she knew this was the Queen. She’d been expecting some ancient, powerful being, someone who could give Liara a run for her money.

Somehow, this was worse.

Beatrice growled and gnashed her teeth as she pushed herself up out of the rose bush, wilted petals tangled in her midnight blue hair with serrated leaves grating against her ghostly pale skin, her dark brown eyes darting around unfocused and clouded with stars. She fell down to the ground on all fours, wondering if she had a concussion and was simply hallucinating or if there really was a teenager standing leaning against the sloping slate mountainside.

Who the hell is that?

She batted her thick eyelashes and pressed a clammy hand to her sweat-beaded forehead, the smell of pine clinging to her clothes aggravating nausea brought on by the earthquake. Panting heavily she struggled to pull herself up, blood trickling down her arm and her back like a cold chill, her dazed gaze settling on a man laid against some bushes, his clothing saturated blood, unable to staunch the steady flow from the deep gash.

Calix! Oh, God....

Natasha shook her head a little, trying to clear away the ringing in her ears and the blurriness of her vision. If she wasn't seeing things, there was a girl, practically a child, leaning against the mountain.

Is...is that the Queen?

Her eyes darted around the clearing, seeing everyone else in poor shape as well. Despite being in pain and shock, the Cucurrion dragged herself up, first to a kneeling position, then back to her feet, one hand planted on the rough bark of the tree trunk she'd collided with, using it for support. She gripped her wand in her other hand, facing the girl that seemed to be getting used to her body again.

"Who...who are you?" Natasha managed, the English more of a struggle with her head so addled. But they had to figure out what was going on, and fast. Not that it mattered, if they were already out of time.

The girl looked over to Natasha who spoke first, and Enzo recoiled at her icy glare. Not many strangers had the ability to make him feel small, but this girl - at least a foot shorter than him - made Enzo feel like he was nothing.

She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes before her lips curled into a bit of a smile. When she opened her mouth, her voice sounded like a song. She sounded like a young girl, but at the same time, vastly beyond her years. “You know who I am, Natasha Kraus. You are the one who figured it out, after all - with your sight… in my bedroom.”

Natasha nearly stepped back as the girl's icy gaze cut through her, feeling as though her heart froze under her eyes. She listened to her words, trying to wrap her head around them.

I'm the one who...what?

"I...I don't understand," she said finally, shifting her hand to tighten her fingers on her wand, prepared to use it if she needed to.

“I watched you,” the girl said. “I watched you in what you are your friends called the Den. You figured out my nickname. An impressive gift you have.”

Enzo rose to his feet, using a tree for support as he watched the exchange. So that was it. That was their confirmation. This was the voice in the sky. This was the Queen. He had no idea how to react to the information that presented itself. She was their villain, was she not? However, something kept him back from attacking.   

The Queen looked over to Ibori who fell to his knees once more, tears brimming on his eyelids. “You,” she said, her voice raising. “Defied my orders - went against everything I told you.”

Ibori’s voice shook when he spoke up, cracking slightly. “I saved you… I released you from your prison, just as you instructed.”

“You killed innocents,” she spat back. “Countless innocents.”

Ibori’s lip quivered, and he bowed his head in shame, his entire body shaking as he placed his hands on the ground. “I didn’t know… what else to do… Helena...”

The Queen grunted, and with a simple flick of her wrist, Ibori went through the air, being tossed to where Chantal still laid.

Enzo furrowed his eyebrows.

Helena… I know that name…   

With tremendous effort, Calix pushed himself from the blood-soaked soil, stumbling as he stepped slowly towards the clearing and the Queen. The blood had staunched, the sharp stake still partially impaled in the growing scar tissue but no longer bleeding. Whatever essence remained flowing in his veins, however, died to a sluggish, icy ebb as he approached.

“Helena,” he muttered, his breathing forced and hanging in the air like delicate crystals, the gentle hum of the threads the only comfort he had as the legends came to life.

“Helena… you’re… you’re her sister…”

Calix raised a shaky finger at Liara, his eyes flickering between the two witches: one who had aged with the changing of the seasons; the other, had not. The resemblance was there. Although slight in feature, it was striking in blood. Calix could sense it. He could feel the same blood flowing in their veins.

Helena… You died...

The older students had always scared the freshers with ghostly tales of Helena, the headmistress’ twin sister, who had fallen to her death on the rocks of Isle Velum. They spoke of her spirit haunting the Quidditch grounds at midnight, her calls languished and nefarious. Never, never, did Calix think he would meet the girl - not a day older than the day she fell.

“Mm,” Helena mused. “Good memory, Calix. However, what you know of me is false.”

She tilted her head slightly as he approached, and, noting the shrapnel in his shoulder, she knitted her eyebrows together. She raised her hand, fingers moving in a circular motion. With ease, the wood slid out of his shoulder and dropped to the grass below, the wound instantly closing upon its exit.

Calix hissed as the wood slid across the bone, a horrible grinding noise echoing inside his skull. He dropped to his knees, looking up at the girl, his fist clenched and the gapping hole in his shoulder sealing with fresh tissue.

“What’s false? What’s the truth?!” Calix snapped, kissing his teeth.

Helena chuckled slightly, looking over at Liara who was just now getting up to her feet, confusion being traded for anger.

“Shall you tell them, or should I?” Helena asked, a cocky air in her tone.

Enzo watched as Liara’s chest heaved, her hands shaking at her side. It seemed that there was more to their Headmistress than they originally understood. Of course, the woman was always private, a mystery behind her eyes, but it never seemed dangerous before. It did now.

Liara spoke then, but not in a tongue Enzo could understand. It was Icelandic - the harsh syllables giving it away.

Helena put a hand up as Liara went on. “That’s rude, Liara,” Helena said, her eyes wide with fire. Helena waved her hand towards the others, and soon the Icelandic was translated to French in Enzo’s head. He supposed the others were hearing their native tongues.

“- and you have put everything I have worked to build at risk,” Liara carried on. “This place would have been dug into the ground had it not been for my leadership. You would have ruined Idorna - you know that. You have already ruined it.”

Liara looked at the unlikely company, her eyes begging for companions. “My children, you know me by now. Calix, Natasha, Beatrice, Enzo, Melanie. Please. You know I would never harm unless absolutely necessary.”      

Mel blinked, watching the scene go on with a buzzing head. She could barely keep up, and when Liara finally addressed them by name, she felt a sort of fear surge in her chest.

Surprise washed over Natasha as the Icelandic suddenly turned to German in her head, listening to the end of Liara's words to her sister and trying to comprehend just what was happening.

She didn't speak, even when the headmistress seemed to plead to them. It was too much to try to wrap her head around, not when her mind was already having a hard enough time connecting two thoughts at a time. But something in her gut was telling her something was going to go very wrong.

Beatrice grapevined over to where Calix sat in the dirt, standing protectively in front of him with her wand raised, poised to go on the offense as the atmosphere in the meadow spoiled, becoming thick and heavy, ripe for the turmoil to spill over any minute. Her head spun, forcing her eyes shut to maintain some semblance of balance.

Who am I supposed to believe?

Liara’s words fluttered between Irish and English in Calix’s mind, a shadow pouring over him as Beatrice stepped up protectively. He looked up, a deep sense of unease in the pit of his stomach.

With a grunt, he swept his hand in an arch, a glittering shield forming around the unlikely company as he uttered aegis totalum under his breath.

This was between them… this was far beyond them…

Helena looked at the students, her eyes washing over each and every one of them as if they were people she had to know her entire life.

After Liara’s outburst, she spoke, her voice calm and collected.

“Liara - my darling sister - and I were born twins. However, I was born just minutes before her, technically making me the eldest of our mother’s children. This put me in line for the position of Headmistress when our mother passed away. This was always information I was aware of, but it was never something I thought about as a child, seeing as our mother felt eternal - immortal, in a sense.

“Liara and I were thirteen when mother fell ill, and we both knew that I would be forced to step into her position at Idorna. It frightened me, but I was willing to do what must be done, and I at least would have Father to advise me.”

“Keep your lies away from them,” Liara hissed.

Helena twisted her fingers towards the ground, and as she did, two roots broke from the earth at Liara’s feet. They rose, wrapping around her wrists before retracting back into the ground. Liara fell to her knees once more, stuck in place.  

Helena continued as if nothing had happened. “When mother’s months turned into mere days, Liara grew jealous as I was prepped to step into office. I met with the heads of the magical departments around the world, and was regarded as a queen of sorts. So one night, when we were visiting our decaying mother on the island, Liara took me into the Gladur to see Mount Helviti. I knew it was wrong and that father would be upset with us if we were caught, but she insisted that it was important, and I had no reason to distrust my own sister.

“I don’t know where she learned of Mount Helviti’s secrets, but it held powerful magic that she used against me - similar to that of a horcrux. She told me to touch the mountain, and when I did, I was locked into place, as if by a magnet. I cried, begging my sister to release me as she began the incantation. Her eyes bore into mine as if I was nothing more than an insect to her - an obstacle for her to overcome. Finally, the curse was sealed, and when I woke up, I was in the mountain. It was dark, and I could not move, but I knew I was inside, locked away by Liara.”

“Liar!” Liara hissed.

It did not seem to faze Helena, so she continued with confidence. “It took me years to learn the Sight - to be able to see beyond the mountain - but I learned. I eventually began to observe the empire my sister inherited, watching you students come and go, told to keep out of the forest where I had been trapped.

Eventually, as the years slipped from me, I gained power through the mountain - power you can now see. I do not know what Isle Velum once was, but it was blessed with magic. Some years ago, I reached out to the Potion Master, Yazid Ibori, to aid me. It took some convincing, but he eventually understood what had become of the myth that was Helena Guðmundsdóttir, and he soon grew to be my only friend. We would often speak late at night when he would sneak into the forest.  

“The mountain spoke to me, told me that I needed human vessels if I wanted my body back. Otherwise, I would be doomed to observe Isle Velum for eternity. I told Ibori to do it. It was selfish of me, but I would bet any of you would do the same. I knew the souls of the captured students would eventually be freed, otherwise I would not have done it. But I could not risk having my sister run free in the world. Not after what she did to me.

“The Forsaken - the ancient beasts that roamed the island’s underground - were not of my doing. I foolishly told him of their existence, and he insisted that they were the only way to, collect the students. But they clearly do not listen to their masters.”      

Enzo was glad he was holding the tree with one hand, otherwise he was sure he would fall over. Liara had never given him reason to doubt her, but Helena’s story was told with such truth…

Finally, for the first time since Helena appeared, Enzo spoke, his voice quiet through Calix’s protective barrier. “And where are the souls of the students you stole?”

Helena looked saddened, but nodded slowly. “They will return as I did… in due time. I will need to learn to manifest my physical powers before I can do so, but I promise you, I will undo what I can.”

Helena's voice continued to unsettle Natasha, the contrast between how young and simultaneously ancient she sounded. Despite that, it would be so easy to believe her, the story she wove lining up so well with what their unlikely company already knew. But Natasha couldn't just accept her words at face value. Not after everything.

"And how are we supposed to know you're telling the truth?" the Cucurrion finally asked, her voice wavering slightly from both her unease and her swimming head. "The ten that jumped at the beginning of the year? That wasn't due to any Forsaken."

Helena looked to Liara, a more serious look on her face. “That was her doing,” she said, addressing the students. “She knew Yazid was getting close. Those ten students were to be brought to me, already under his influence. Liara found out, and killed them herself… didn’t you.?”

Liara sneered as the roots bit into her wrists. “I’ll kill you… if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Mm, no,” Helena said. “The last thing you will do is plead for your life, I presume.”  

Beatrice cleared her throat quietly and cast her gaze down to the leaf-strewn, blood-spattered forest floor. “I’m sorry, but that still doesn’t give us any concrete proof that you are who you claim to be, nor does it show beyond the shadow of a doubt that Headmistress Liara is the one to blame, ma’am,” she said, naturally tucking one ankle behind the other, offering the teenager a petite, awkward curtsy to the witch who claimed to be the real woman in charge.

“Ibori did all of this crap for you, supposedly,” Mel agreed, fighting to keep the anger from her tone. “So many lives were lost. We were almost killed. I was almost killed.” When her voice hitched, she swallowed, casting her eyes at the ground. “Forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical.”

Helena smiled. “You all were never ones to accept things without question. I respect that.”

She looked towards her sister then, waving her hand which knocked her in front of the barrier. “There is no way for me to prove to you that she is a liar without the necessary potions, and even then, she is strong; I don’t know how well she would be able to resist speaking the truth.

“Tell them what happened the first night the Forsaken were released, Liara. Tell them how you left them to search the island for answers. How you abandoned your students - your children.”

Liara kept her head down, seeming unable to raise it to look at the students in front of her. “I…”

“Speak up, Headmistress,” Helena said.

Liara shook her head, clearly not able to conjure an answer.

Helena looked back to the students again, exhaling slowly. “I don’t claim to be perfect, as I have already said. I willingly asked Yazid to bring me the souls I required. Through our many conversations, I grew this strange attachment to him… I don’t know if one could call it love, but I trusted him. I told him about the Forsaken idly once, and before I could convince him that they could not be trusted, he set off to release them. I would have told him about your ‘Den’, too, had he not exhibited animalistic behavior quite early on. I assumed he might try and kill you… and he did try… with the help of Chantal Williams and Theodore Crix. For that, I am sorry.”

Enzo knelt down at the edge of the barrier, looking at Liara. All that could be seen was a bowed head with a cascade of blonde hair masking her face. Just moments ago, she was pleading for help - telling them that Helena was a liar. Now she had no words.

He stood back up, looking to Helena. “And what do you plan on doing with him,” he said, coking his head towards Ibori.

“Unsure,” she said. “Perhaps I will leave his fate to you five.”

“And Chantal?”

“Yours, Enzo,” she said flatly.

He nodded, glad for her understanding.

“I’d like for all of you to take into consideration,” Helena said, regarding the group, “that if I wished to, I could kill you all now with ease. There are no witnesses. I could say that Liara did away with the lot of you before I was freed, and there would be no one to discredit me. There is a reason you are all still alive, and it is because I am not your enemy.”

Beatrice narrowed her eyes slightly and took a half step back away from the sorceress, towards the castle where faint howls and weeping entreaties for mercy could be heard on the horizon.

Would an ally threaten us?

"And what's your plan now that you're free?" Natasha asked. She still didn't trust this, one bit, but she knew there wasn't a lot more to ask or do. Particularly not when she wasn't sure how much longer she could remain vertical. "What happens to Idorna? To all of the students still alive?"

“One moment,” Helena had said, looking as if she had been punched in the gut.

Enzo watched as she knelt down, pressing her hands to the earth, ignoring the bits of snow that must have clawed at her skin. She closed her eyes, exhaling deeply before the island began to rumble around them. It was not as intense as when she was released, but it was enough to make Enzo stumble.

When it came to a halt, it was quiet for a moment, and the unlikely company looked at each other in a clear state of confusion.

However, when they heard the screams from behind, Enzo spun on his heels, aiming his wand into the dark of the forest. More and more screams followed, and Enzo knew they belonged to the Forsaken.

She tricked us. She’s going to kill us.

Enzo had half a mind to whirl around and attack the damn girl, but when he saw the grey beasts hurdle towards them, he knew that there was no time for that. He cast at them, but they kept charging, his spells not doing much to slow the wave down.

His heart began to slam against his chest, and as they neared - at least a five-hundred or so - he closed his eyes, gripping Melanie’s hand, prepared for his end. After so much work, this was their end...

However, instead of ripping into his body… the beasts ran past them.

Enzo opened his eyes, spinning as he watched the Forsaken move past Calix’s barrier and sprint towards the thick of the forest beyond Mount Helviti. He could not move a muscle as he watched them disappear one by one, and within the span of thirty seconds or so, they were all gone.

Calix groaned as he stood up, watching the Forsaken rush past them and into the all-consuming darkness that lay beyond Helena’s supposed prison. He dug his heels into the soft ground, twisting his fingers in an archaic and ornate fashion. A second shield shimmered between the company and the fallen Liara, her golden hair hiding her face.

Helena’s explanations did nothing to settle his stomach, nor did Liara’s outbursts of death, killing, and sudden, almost guilty, silence. Calix wanted more barriers around him: Ibori was still alive, the back-stabbing, Janus-faced wretch that he was; Helena had threatened their lives as a gesture of her lack of animosity; and Liara - Calix didn’t know what to think of her.

Reaching into his pocket, Calix’s fingers wrapped around the three vials of paralysing toxin he had taken from Crix’s dungeon. If he needed an ace up his sleeve before the sun rose, he had one last magic trick, though he could feel himself starting to tire.

“You can control them?” Calix spat, red lines glowing in his fist as he pointed at the final fleeing monster, “You waited all this time to tell them to turn around? You should of stopped them sooner. You let thousands die, both of you. Both of you! Both of you! You put hundreds of innocent lives in my hands!”

“I could do nothing from the mountain,” Helena said to Calix, tilting her head. “Only reach out.”

“You chose a fine piece of shit to reach out to, didn’t you?” Calix retorted, his grip on the threads and the vials like a vice.

“Desperation sometimes clouds our judgment,” she said, walking around the barrier once, knowing she could rip it down within the blink of an eye. “Yazid was a lonely man before we began to interact. He had never shown signs of insanity before, but when I tried to stop him, it was too late. I am sorry.”

Mel kept her grip on Enzo’s hand, staring in the direction the beasts had disappeared. She didn’t know what to feel. Her hatred for Ibori was all-consuming, but despite all her better judgment, Helena was starting to break through to her. She was starting to make sense.

“It’s...I…” Words were failing her. Mel searched Helena’s face, but it was a mask. It wasn’t nefarious, it wasn’t benevolent. It was...empty. More than anything, it made her feel unsettled.

“I wish I could do more to fix the damage dealt,” she muttered. “I may seem quite the spectacle now, but that is only now. As time slips away from me, these powers will fade. I can bring back those who have been killed by mere magic, but not those killed by the Forsaken.”   

“Magic can’t restore life to the dead,” Calix muttered, shaking his head sullenly at the young girl’s arrogance towards natural law. He turned away, Helena’s vacuous expression too unnerving - untrustworthy and trustworthy - and looked down at Liara, the headmistress still restrained by the coiling, earthen tendrils.

“You had your children killed… dead as doornails…thousands...” he spat at Liara, pressing his forehead against the shining barrier and stared down at her with venom in his eyes.

Liara shook her head, fingers digging into the soul below her as Helena watched a few feet away.

“I can, in fact, Calix,” Helena said. “Like I said, I won’t always be able to, but this island holds power that I have never seen before. Much of it runs through my veins at this very moment… You will see in a -”

“Andre,” Enzo said, cutting her short. He stepped towards the edge of the barrier, eyes widening slightly. “My friend - Andre - he’s… he was…” The image of Andre’s limp body falling onto his flashed through his mind once more. “He was killed by magic… can you…?”

“Nothing but magic?”

Enzo nodded his head.

Helena nodded as if reading the expression of Enzo’s face was enough for her. “I can. I will.”  

Calix smashed his fist against the barrier, hoping Liara would look up at him, meet his gaze. He wanted to see her eyes, see the truth hidden behind the cascade of gold.

She didn’t move. She just shook her head.

“Show me then,” Calix said, every healing fibre in his body deeply skeptical, “Show me how it works. Show me it’s not just dark magic and inferi reanimation. And, will it work on everyone who was killed with just magic, or is it selective?”

“They need to be on the island,” Helena explained. “And they still need heat in their bodies…”

Helena strode over to the mountain, placing her palm against the surface, and closing her eyes just as she did when she was pulled into it decades ago.

Enzo watched, expecting something to happen, but it didn’t look like any magic was worked. It just looked like a child was touching a damn stone. He clenched his fists at his sides, his shoulders tensing as he watched.

Helena eventually turned back, facing the group once more. Her eyelids looked heavy, but she seemed relatively unaffected. “It is done. Who can return has returned…”

"You expect us to believe that that's it? That you somehow managed to reverse the Killing Curse, just like that?" Natasha was still skeptical, even though Liara's silence seemed to point more and more towards her guilt. Even if her suspicion was right, though, Helena was powerful, powerful enough to subdue the headmistress. Which meant opposing her was pointless.

Helena smiled slightly. “You will believe it once Enzo sees his friend again - this time, very much alive.”

Enzo’s throat constricted as he stood, watching the girl speak about his friend. Never had he heard of someone coming back from the dead… but this was clearly anything different than he had seen before.

“Where is he?” Enzo asked.

“Waking up now, I presume. Wherever he fell.” Helena’s voice was steady, not an ounce of emotion in it. It seemed to Enzo that the only emotion she exhibited was joy when speaking down to her sister. If what she was saying was true, he did not blame her.

Enzo turned, ready to head back to the castle when Helena put another hand up. Now, though, the barrier that Calix created forced them inside. Enzo put his hands against it, but it was futile.

“Not just yet,” Helena said. “I need to know where we lie. What do you all intend to do about Yazid and Chantal?”

“Kill them - I don’t care,” Enzo said, pushing against the barrier. “Just let me go see Andre, please.”

“As horrid as Yazid’s actions were,” Helena continued, “he is the reason I am now standing here with a physical body. I will not kill him, but I will not stop you five from doing so. The same rule applies to his companion.”  

Calix dug the three vials out of his pocket, a dull prayer that Theodore Crix’s rotting corpse was frozen cold on his lip when he remembered how the liquid inside had ravaged his system. He levitated the golden solutions into the air and released the red threads as they floated into the centre of the clearing, the lines connecting each of the company to Calix attaching to the glass bottles, a new thread forming between Calix’s ankle and the remainder.

“We need to decide whose story we buy,” Calix said, looking to his friends, “I’ve three vials of a toxin. Five drops were enough for Crix to knock me senseless for almost twenty-four hours. You can imagine what a whole vial will do.

“But, more importantly,” Calix said, glancing back at Helena, “If you, your monstrous sidekicks over there, or Liara, try anything while we talk this through, those red threads will crush those little bottles. If any of us even feel threatened those threads will make sure everything within a half-mile radius is paralytic for a month.”

Calix sighed heavily, turning towards the Enzo, Bea, Mel, and Nat with a heavy heart: “What the fuck do we do,” he whispered, his bravado crumbling at the sight of them.

Beatrice had remained silent for too long and as she stood there staring at the broken man she loved, her heart ached. Good people died tonight, the best and brightest that wizard kind had to offer, all so that this unyielding, forcible girl could once more walk the earth because she lusted after her sister’s death the way that Enzo had Chantal, as Calix was now offering to their home. Her bottom lip trembled, a solitary sorrowful tear sliding down her rose thorn pricked cheek. She staggered forwards and placed a hand on his arm, squeezing his elbow gently. “Don’t do this, pele. Don’t sink to their level,” she begged, her voice brittle and weak.

The Samoan sniffled and looked over at Helena, fury shining in her wet eyes. “You claim that Ibori never showed these tendencies until you gave him the mission to set you free. Power does terrible things to good people,” she said, glancing up at her unconcerned boyfriend briefly.

“Ibori doesn’t deserve to die here tonight. Just like you said professor, no more blood has to be spilled tonight. Chantal is yours Enzo, but if Andre is back, she and Ibori should answer for their crimes. Their lives, and more importantly, the stolen lives of those they murdered in cold blood, should have meaning. Let the other professors decide, or failing that, leave the decision to the magical governments of the world. They trust their children to become extraordinary witches and wizards here, and have every right to know what happened here this year, especially tonight, so they know going forward, it’s still seen as the right choice to send their future leaders here to learn how to make that world a better place.

“Ibori failed in that mission. He brought two incredible people to their demise in his power-hungry spiral.” The memory of Teddy’s body being forced back lifelessly onto the cold marble floor of the Great Hall at the end of her wand passed through her memory. “At the very least, he should be fired. Though for all the lives he stole, he doesn’t deserve to die by any of our hands tonight. No,” Beatrice snorted and narrowed her eyes at the potions master, “no, he deserves to die by a Dementor’s Kiss.”

Enzo eyed the others, almost holding his breath as Beatrice spoke. He wanted Ibori to die. He wanted him to be buried in the cold, hard ground forever, but when she mentioned the Dementor’s Kiss, his lips parted slightly - thinking of his dream in Azkaban.

“You know,” he said. “For once, Beatrice, I think we are seeing eye to eye immediately.”

Beatrice smiled slightly and nodded at the stunned Frenchman nearby before looking over at Natasha and Mel, her heart racing as she silently prayed for their continued support.

Natasha turned her wand in her fingers, eyes locked on the potions master. She itched to point the weapon at him, to say the two simple words that would end this discussion, and his life, but the others had a point. It was too easy for him. It wasn’t enough, wouldn’t make him pay for all of the lives he had cost. So she nodded, finally tearing her gaze away from Ibori and looking at Beatrice, who seemed to be waiting for their approval.

“I agree. He needs to suffer.” Her voice wasn’t as strong as she liked, but still plenty hard, her hatred for the man clear in just those few words.

Beatrice let out a breath she had been holding, her grasp around Calix’s arm tensing as she waited for his and Mel’s agreement, though she did hold the majority vote.

Calix looked down into Beatrice’s watery eyes, sighing heavily with tiredness. “I’m not stooping to anyone’s level, love. They’re just contingency - in case I need them. We need them. This isn’t over yet.”

He leaned against her, looked across the clearing towards Ibori, curled in a ball by Chantal’s broken and bloodied body.

“Dementor’s Kiss, it is,” Calix murmured.

Mel stayed silent, simply nodding at the consensus the group had reached. She felt nothing but immense relief that the fate of the people who had been terrorizing them for months would be out of their hands, as far away from them as possible.

“I just want this to be over,” she finally mumbled.

Beatrice let out a sigh and stood up straighter, looking up at the teenager with an air of totality filling her lungs, giving her the courage to face the powerful witch. “Please send Professor Ibori to Azkaban to answer for multiple accounts of murder,” she said. “What will happen to Liara?”

Helena nodded at their request, looking over to Yazid for a moment, a look of strange remorse on her face. When she turned back, eyes locking with Beatrice, she spoke clearly.

“I will decide my sister’s fate,” she murmured, leaving it at that. “And what about Chantal, Enzo? What would you have become of her?”

Enzo nodded, happy with her answer, but when she mentioned Chantal, he folded his arms over his chest. Death is what he wanted for her in that moment, but he looked at Beatrice slightly, knowing what killing Theodore did to her, how to took a piece of her. His eyes trailed over to the blonde woman, still laying on the ground, only barely stirring now.

Finally, he exhaled. “Do what you see fit,” he replied. “Just, please, let me see Andre.”

Helena nodded, smiling as she folded her hands in front of her stomach. In the blink of an eye, her barrier around them was gone.

She looked at them all, unable to hold a grin back. “The five of you… quite unlikely company you keep, hm?” She licked her lips, nodding once. “Go now; I will deal with this. I just ask that you keep this to yourselves, for now, at least.”   

Enzo did not wait for anyone else to speak, he turned, wand in hand, sprinting through back through the forest and towards Idorna, praying that Helena’s words held truth.

Mel watched him go, knowing it was pointless to try and chase after him again. She looked around at the group. It felt too easy. She almost didn’t believe that they were free to go, that Helena wouldn’t change her mind and kill them all as soon as they turned their backs.

“I’m not going back through that forest alone,” she announced, a slight tremor in her voice. “Who’s going to be a pal and walk with me?”

Natasha eyed Helena. She still didn’t trust the story they were being given, but at this point, she knew there was nothing more she could do. They could only hope that everyone would be able to get off Isle Velum, even if Idorna would never open its doors again, after everything.

“I’ll go with you,” she told Mel finally, taking a deep breath. She was feeling somewhat unsteady, and walking with someone else would hopefully help. The German finally turned away from Mount Helviti, joining Mel as they headed back towards the castle.

Beatrice looked up at Calix, a sadness she couldn’t quite place settling in her heart as she summoned the vials to her hand, shoving them in her pocket. “We need peace, not more destruction, pele.”

Calix swallowed heavily as the wicked vials disappeared into Beatrice’s pocket, the threads and his protective charms slowly fading into the cold air. He didn’t trust Helena, nor did he trust Liara; they were as disloyal and fickle as each other; both liars and manipulators and killers.  

“I need off this island,” Calix murmured against Beatrice’s shoulder, his body slowly sagging, drained and exhausted.

She sighed quietly and wrapped her arm around his waist, holding his drained body close, and led him back towards the vacant forest and the castle beyond. They had a lot to discuss but now was not the time. “We all do.”

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Two-Hundred Twenty-Six: Calix and Beatrice

The world cracked from side to side, catastrophic noises freezing Calix’s blood as he slowly pushed himself up off the floor, shaking his head. Screams of students and monsters echoed like a hellish symphony from outside the Den and Calix gripped his wand tightly for fear the creatures had climbed high into the castle, potentially invited in by Ibori, without anyone noticing their vile presence.

The vampires had gotten in, somehow, and Calix knew that they would leave a trail of bodies and blood as they swept through Idorna, slaughter and death knells awaiting them outside the portrait.

What had happened?

In the few seconds he had, Calix tried to take it all in, the gears in his mind spinning frantically as hazy memories and clouded visions of bloodshed and claws and teeth and death played on him, terror muddling his concentration: Enzo was gone, his blood pooling beside Calix; Mel had followed him without a moment’s hesitation; Natasha, only waking from her drugged slumber, had disappeared; Ibori was gone; and Beatrice was screaming.

Beatrice!

Calix leaped to his feet, scrambling like a madman to his girlfriend's side. Collapsing, he knelt at her side, rolling her onto her back with as much delicacy as the situation afforded. Her forehead was beaded with thousands of droplets, her eyes watery and puffy-red and Calix knew straight away, he could sense it, that her leg was broken, the falling weight of Ibori and the heavy chair fracturing the bone like a axe splitting wood.  

“W...we...we’ve…” Beatrice swallowed tightly, her head pounding like the beat of a war drum in battle, her skin ghastly pale and cold to the touch. “We gotta get outta here, pele.” The sound of unholy screams outside the door, demonic screams punctuated by the shattering last pleas of the dying danced around her twirling consciousness, forcing her back to the ground damp with blood and tears.

We’re gonna die if we don’t get out of here. I can’t kill Ibori if we die now. She reached out and grabbed onto the healer’s forearm like a lifeline, her knuckles white, fingers trembling. “We’ve gotta go help the others,” she murmured under her breath, her dark eyes wild with fear, waves of pain driving her into a frenzied panic.

A shout of mercy from outside the portrait, which hung loosely on its hinges, pierced Calix’s heart before the begging was silenced by the sound of gurgling and torn flesh. Beatrice was right - they were sitting ducks in the Den, nothing more than target practice for the vampires - they needed to move.

Fast.

Calix nodded his head briskly, rifling off spells under his breath, the learned words falling from his lips with fluent mastery as his hands glowed dark red, gently sweeping the wild curls from Beatrice’s forehead. Reflected in her hysteric eyes, Calix saw his own fright and obvious panic, his icy blood lending a ghostly pallor to his skin and a trembling shake to his hands.

Broken legs were not hard to fix, Calix had seen a lot worse in the last few months, and he soon was pulling Beatrice to her feet, an arm wrapped tightly around her waist and his wand pointed forward.

“We’re going to get through this, trust me,” Calix said, a certain confidence in his voice that seemed so different to the pain-stricken beating of his heart.

“You know I do,” she said, leaning against his side for a brief moment while she tested her leg, affording only a minute to readjust before the monsters refused to be kept waiting any longer. Summoning her wand from the floor by the door, the Killing Curse which still haunted her nightmares rolled off her tongue with such fluidity it felt like reciting poetry, gruesome and terrible with a reluctant ease to it.

Gritting her teeth, she forced the dull ache in her leg to the back of her mind, focusing on the man beside her and getting him out of the castle alive. There was no way in Heaven or Hell she was going to be the one to tell Ryker that Calix wouldn’t be coming home again, and that meant dragging a healer away from innocent souls who were barely clinging to life as their limbs were effortlessly torn from their bodies like pieces of paper. Each squelching step through the halls running with rivers of warm blood only solidified her resolve; another man must die tonight at the end of her wand.

Green and red. Flashes of green and red illuminated the crowded staircase. It filled Calix’s vision, lighting up the darkness as fireworks brighten the night sky.

Expect these weren’t fireworks - there was no beauty or wonderment to this display of colour. Only suffering.

Beatrice’s avidity for the killing curse was startling. The two words coming so easily to her, followed by a brilliant spark of green that robbed the life from whatever it touched, vampires crashing to blood-soaked floor in lifeless heaps, as more flashes erupted in chorus around them.

Calix focused on those around him, the bodies that lay in pools of their own warm blood and the flurry of house colours as the hordes rushed past them. If it wasn’t for Beatrice, Calix would’ve stopped. He had a terrible, twisting pain in his stomach, a knife-like jolt that ricocheted through his bones every time he saw a friend or a classmate or a acquaintance or someone he just knew from walking the halls call out for help, reach out, pull at his clothes as they rushed past.

He wanted to help. He needed to help. But, he wasn’t their saviour; he couldn’t help if he was dead beside them.

He did what he could, firing out red healing spells in every direction, forming shields and barricades and protective bubbles, but he knew deep down that he couldn’t help half as many as he wanted to.

“We need to get outside,” Calix shouted, summoning a shimming window in front of Beatrice, a pane that soon was splattered with blood and gore. “There’s more room, we’ll be safer outside.”

She nodded silently and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, turning to offer a small, saddened smile when a ghostly dolphin swam towards them through the iron tinged air with a message from Mel. “The Gladur. Hurry.”

Beatrice bit down on her cracked bottom lip and inhaled sharply though the smell of death made her stomach turn, the chaotic annihilation of the world’s brightest witches and wizards outside the ravaged remains of the castle doors seeming much inviting compared to the bloodied carnage inside. “We’re not safe until you and I are back home under a sun that never sets,” she called over her shoulder as she pulled him outside heading towards the forest on the horizon.

Mel’s message steeled Calix’s resolve, though it did nothing to lessen the guilt blooming in the healer’s heart. The Gladur was where Ibori was running. It made perfect sense. The unlikely company were returning to where it all began.

Squeezing Beatrice’s hand, Calix shouted back: “Let’s fucking finish this!”

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Two-Hundred Twenty-Five: Natasha

Those screams mean death.

The all-too-familiar sound of the vampires was a painful one, one that conjured up images of a slaughter, of blood staining once-pure snow as innocents were killed to further the plot of someone sworn to protect them. Natasha couldn’t help but freeze for a moment upon hearing the bone-chilling screeches, dragged back into her memories before her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. But her terrified daze only lasted a few seconds; she was brought back to reality when, instead, her ears were filled with the sound of Enzo charging out of the Den, followed quickly by Melanie. She realized that the vampires were already inside of the castle, which meant there were likely plenty of people dead, with more to follow. So before she had time to speak to the others, or to even assess her own ability to fight, Natasha got to her feet and left the Den as well.

By the time she reached the stairs, however, Melanie and Enzo were both gone. The sheer size and panic of the crowds of students racing up and down the stairwell were enough to conceal the two, who Natasha realized she wouldn’t be able to catch even if she did manage to spot them. The best she could do was quietly wish them luck and do what she could to help stop the vampires.

She joined the throng on the stairs, having to work against the current to get down. It made sense to run away from the danger, but upstairs meant no escape. Not that that was what Natasha was looking for. Fighting wasn’t her strong suit, but if she could help take down at least a few of the monsters, save at least a couple people, it wouldn’t matter what else happened to her. She wasn’t worth much more than that.

But before she could even reach the third floor, the German was hit by a wave of lightheadedness, but not like the one when she was drugged. No, this was familiar to her. This was a vision.

Natasha managed to pull away from the crowd on the stairs once she reached the third floor landing. The screams, from both the vampires and her fellow students, were louder now, but were getting drowned out by a ringing in her ears. She stumbled a little on her feet, struggling to stave off the vision at least until she could find a place to hide, somewhere she could stay safe until it was over. Finally, she managed to push open the door to a classroom and slam it shut behind herself, not even having time to lock it before the images started coming in flashes.

Ibori, a smirk slowly spreading across those cracked lips as he nodded.

A bright flash of green lighting up the darkness in front of the castle, before a body, collapsed into Enzo.

A vampire tearing into the body of a Cucurrion first year, her last scream frozen on her face.

Chantal, speaking inaudible words with a determined expression.

The Gladur leaves rippling in the wind as more and more blood soaked the snow at its edge.

“Natasha!”

A voice interrupted the vision, which was really nothing more than a whirlwind of small parts, a puzzle that Natasha couldn’t piece together. It all stopped after the voice spoke the first time, but it took the second for the Cucurrion to start to come back to reality.

“Natasha, wake up!”

The German felt pain blooming in her head as she opened her eyes, blurry vision taking a moment to focus in on the blonde above her, the one that spoke. Maria. The other woman looked rough, with wild hair, sweaty skin, and plenty of minor cuts and bruises evidence that she had been fighting, but by far the worst of it was the deep claw marks in the Russian woman’s arm. Natasha frowned at the sight, starting to sit up before she felt something drip down the side of her face.

“Thank God,” Maria mumbled when Natasha finally returned, taking a deep breath. “I thought you were gone for a second.” She shook her head when Natasha’s pale hand reached up towards her forehead, where the pain was. “Don’t. You must have hit your head. It’s bleeding, but not too bad.”

Natasha nodded and withdrew her hand. She must have collapsed when the vision took over and hit her head on one of the desks, but besides the pain, which wasn’t too bad, she felt relatively alright. “How did you find me?” she asked, eyes darting from the blonde above her to the heavy wooden doors when she heard the shriek of yet another vampire, much closer now than it had been before.

“They got farther up, broke through the first two floors. One of them was trying to get in but couldn’t break down the door alone, so I knew there had to be someone inside.” Maria moved back a little, standing and offering her hand to Natasha. The German accepted it and used the help to get back on her feet, a little unsteady for a moment before she regained her footing. She was about to speak again when the silvery mist of a patronus moved through the doors, taking the shape of a dolphin that swam around Natasha a few times before delivering its message.

“The Gladur. Hurry.” It was Melanie’s voice, and it sounded frantic. Maria heard it as well, and her eyes landed solemnly on Natasha once the dolphin disappeared.

“You and your group. You’re going to finish this?” she asked.

Natasha drew a deep breath, using the sleeve of her shirt to carefully wipe the dripping blood from her forehead. “We’re going to try.”

Maria nodded, grasping her wand tightly and going to the door. “Then I need to get you to the forest, don’t I?”

Natasha gave her roommate a faint, grateful smile, but that was all she had time for. As soon as Maria opened the door, they were exposed to the panic and danger of the fighting, and it was all they could do to stay alive. Natasha had to force herself to focus on getting out the front doors and to the Gladur because thinking about anything else might get her killed.

Eventually, the two of them managed to fight their way to the destroyed doors, Maria saving Natasha on more than one occasion. The German didn’t have a chance to express her gratitude, however, because the fighting was just as intense in front of the castle, and she had to get through it as quickly as possible to reach Melanie and Enzo, who was likely already deep within the forest.

“Go,” Maria insisted, temporarily stunning another vampire that lunged towards them. “I’ll help keep them off you until you reach it.”

Natasha just nodded and took off across the bloodied snow, wand tight in her grasp. She no longer hesitated to shoot Killing Curses at the beasts, knowing it was the only way to stop them permanently. Thankfully, with Maria’s help, she didn’t have to do much to protect herself, and managed to reach the edge of the Gladur unharmed. She shot one last look behind herself, seeing Maria turn towards another part of the grounds, already moving to help someone else, before turning back towards the forest.

Please stay alive, the Cucurrion thought, her mind on both her roommate and her unlikely company. I can’t lose anyone tonight.

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Two-Hundred Twenty-Four: Mel and Enzo

Enzo nearly tore down the portrait of the Den when he heard the shrieks from below, sprinting down the fifth floor, ignoring the blood still running from his nose, down his neck, soaking the collar of his shirt.

He could hear the others behind him, but it was no more than white noise to him. There was only one thing that could make those noises - one thing that he would never be able to forget.

They got in.

He had reached the staircase too late, because there were already waves of students rushing both downwards and upwards, knocking each other over to get ahead of the pack. Orange mixed with green mixed with blue mixed with purple, students of all majors and ages, screaming and clawing at a chance for survival.

Mel’s blood had grown cold at the howls from the lower floors, but she didn’t have time to contemplate her next move because, in the blink of an eye, Enzo was gone from the Den.

“Wait!” she yelled, drawing her wand and following him into the chaos of the staircase. She almost lost him amongst the sea of colour but his tall form and black curls were something she’d recognize anywhere.

“It’s not safe,” she breathed once she reached his side. “They got in, didn’t they?”

Enzo looked for his chance to leap into the staircase, but it never seemed to come. There were too many students blocking his path.

When he felt Melanie by his side, he turned his head, nodding slightly. “Yes.” There was no possibility of a ‘maybe.’ They were in.

Most students were headed up, but there were a fair few going down. Of course, the vampires were down there, but there were also exits below. They would be sitting prey if they went higher.

Enzo shoved his hand into his pocket, feeling for the small, glass vial he kept safe. Once his fingers closed around it, he pulled it out, the gold liquid winking at him. He had made five in total, but he already took one a few hours ago, and the other three were up in his common room.

“Drink,” he said, holding it out for Melanie to take.

“Shots at a time like this?” Mel teased, a nervous edge to her tone, but she recognized the liquid luck’s shimmer. Without another word, she uncorked the vial and downed the contents, already feeling more confident. “What’s the plan?”

“Uh,” Enzo hesitated when she asked. “Stay alive.”

With that, he grabbed her by the hand and hauled her into the crowd that was pushing downwards. Bodies collided with him, his nose throbbing in pain as his cheeks his shoulders and elbows, sure to not lose his grip on Melanie’s hand as they passed the fourth floor.

It was as they hit the third-floor landing that things took a turn for the worse. The first sight Mel set her eyes upon was a body at the foot of the stairs, blood pooling around it.

“Shit,” she hissed, gripping her wand and glancing around. Down the hall to the right, a very human shriek sounded. “Do we help?”

Enzo pulled his own wand when she did, assuming a direct attack was coming, but when she spoke, he turned towards her, grabbing her by the arms and looking directly into her eyes.

“Hundreds are going to die tonight,” he said firmly, holding her against the wall as more bodies barreled downwards. “We can’t stop that, but we can try to find Ibori and save ourselves.”

Her gut twisted at his words, but she knew he was right. She did her best to block out the screaming and let him continue to lead her down the stairs.

Enzo held onto her as they passed the second floor, and that is when the beasts came into sight. They hung from the railing of the stairwell, picking students off one by one, their hooked nails shredding into their skin with ease.

“Stay close to the wall!” Enzo hollered over the screams of horror for the students and the shrieks of terror from the Vampires.

He pushed himself against the mural-filled wall, keeping low as they continued downwards, nearly falling over bodies on their way, his grip around Melanie’s wrist no doubt painful for her, but he was not risking her getting away from him.

“Where do you think he went?” she shouted at him over the din. A vampire lunged at her and she barely had enough time to fling a hex at the beast.

“I have an idea,” Enzo replied as they finally reached the main floor.

They came out just beside the infirmary, and the entire floor was a bloodbath. Enzo couldn’t count how many bodies littered the floor, plastered the walls, each with a beast draining the blood from what remained.

Keeping his wand out, Enzo pushed towards the Great Hall, firing where he could, doing what was possible to save who he could, but he knew he would not be able to slow down.

“Enzo, look,” Mel urged, tugging his arm and motioning towards the front doors of the castle. They were huge, wooden structures that could only be opened with magic, an impenetrable defense.

Something had obliterated them, the wood splintered and the frames hanging off the hinges.

Enzo followed her gaze as they kept moving, noting that the doors had been destroyed. Someone wanted the beasts in and they were in a rush.

Without another thought, Enzo hauled Melanie outside to where the fighting was worst.

Students of Idorna had engaged in open combat with the vampires, bodies from both sides covering the snow, their blood painting it scarlet.

There was no escape from the island without Liara, but they were safer in the open than in close quarters.

“God,” Mel groaned, covering her mouth. “We need to find Ibori, now.”

Just as Melanie spoke, Enzo felt something rough hit his back. He stumbled forward a bit, ready to cast, when, instead of claws ripping into his skin, he felt a pair of arms - human arms.

“Fucking Christ,” Andre said as he appeared in front of the pair, covered in grime and cuts, but nothing major, after letting Enzo go. “I was looking everywhere for you. What the fuck is happening, Enzo?! Does this have to do with that…that group of yours?”

Enzo shook his head, in mild shock not knowing how to answer.

“Calm the hell down,” Mel snapped, feeling as though her blood pressure was definitely rising. “Did you see Professor Ibori? Can you tell us where he went?”

“Ibori…” Andre muttered, trailing off. “Enzo, is that who did this?”

“Yes,” Enzo simply said. “It is. And we need to get to him.”

Andre ranked one of his hands through his hair, shaking his head slightly. “I - I dunno,” he admitted. “I mean - I think I saw him on the way down, but… I… fuck, I don't know.”

Enzo did not have another moment to answer before he was forced to watch a barrage of green energy slam into Andre’s back, seeming to come from nowhere, lighting up the darkness around them.

Andre’s body lurched forwards, his eyes rolling into the back of his head before he slumped onto Enzo, knocking him over.

Enzo groaned, pushing himself into a sitting position, Andre in his arms. He was about to shove him away when he noticed the lack of response from him.

“Andre, get up - move.”

But there was no response. Andre’s eyelids were open just a sliver, only white and red visible between them.

Enzo felt his heart rate begin to rise, sweat beginning to slick over his brow. “Hey - Andre… Come on, get up…” He moved himself so that he was cradling his best friend in his arms, like how one would with an injured child. He placed one hand on his cheek, tapping him a bit as if it would jolt him awake. “Andre! Get up! We have to go - get up!”

Mel watched in shock, feeling like someone had punched her in the gut. She blinked her daze away and grabbed Enzo, roughly shaking his shoulders.

“It’s no use,” she said, tears stinging her eyes as her voice fought to prevail over the oncoming sobs. “Enzo we need to go. Don’t let this be for nothing.”

“Shut up!” Enzo hollered, shoving Melanie away. “He’s fine! He's just… He needs help - we just need to get him help… We… He's just…”

Enzo’s arms began to shake as it hit him - Andre was not here. Andre was far from him. This was just a body…

He's dead.

Memories of his early years in Idorna flashed through his mind: Enzo first meeting Andre in their dorm room. The first time Andre told Enzo of his past in Bulgaria. Mixing the first Sleep Draught for him. Watching him pine for girl after girl after girl as Enzo tried to act uninterested, but it always amused him.

And that was stolen from him in less than a second.

Enzo was pulled back to reality when he heard more screams of horror erupt from the battlefield. He looked up, but through the grey limbs and sharp teeth and dead students, his eyes settled on something else.

Blonde. Her wand still in her grasp, still slightly raised where Andre’s body fell. The same rock-hard expression on her face, seeming to almost challenge him.

Chantal.

Rage began to boil in Enzo’s blood, and it seemed as if nothing beyond her existed in that moment. His chest began to heave, blood pounded in his ears. There was nothing but her.

She did this.

Enzo placed Andre’s body on the grass and gripped his wand, not thinking about how deadly the scene in front of him was before he sprinted through the fray towards her.

“Enzo!” Mel called, panic propelling her forward. Several times she almost slammed directly into a vampire, but the elixir of liquid luck and adrenaline was a powerful thing, and it kept her fighting off attackers and running as far as her legs would carry her.

I’m not going to let him do something stupid.

Murder was the only thought reeling through Enzo’s mind as he passed through the field, watching his classmates kill and die around him. But none of them were Andre. None of them were Chantal.

He watched as Chantal turned away and fled into the Gladur, and his stride only picked up as he followed her to where he was sure Ibori was hiding.

Mel paused when she reached the edge of the woods. Her lungs burned from running and from screaming out Enzo’s name. She didn’t know what else to do. Taking a shaky breath, she sent a patronus to the others, uttering three simple words to it before rushing in after him.

The Gladur. Hurry.

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Two-Hundred Twenty-Three: Unlikely Company

How easy it would be to kill him right now.

Beatrice sat in an armchair by the fireplace in the Den, her skin in a thick film of goosebumps though the room was unnaturally warm as she stared at Professor Ibori’s unconscious body tied up in the other armchair in the center of the room, his back to the door. She clenched her jaw tightly, the image of a green light extending from her wand congesting her mind, making her sick to her stomach.

It’s two simple words. Think about how many people died because of his actions.

“When’s he gonna wake up?” she asked quietly, wringing her hands nervously, her palms glistening with sweat.

Enzo sighed, adding yet another knot on the rope that held Ibori in place. “An hour or two, if the process is natural, but I can speed it up.”

He moved over the cauldron on the floor, grabbing a vial from his pocket and filling it exactly to the brim with the orange liquid. He brought it over to one of the beds - the one Natasha was on.

He had carried her to the room himself after he explained to his frantic group that she was, in fact, not dead. He could not pinpoint the exact potion Ibori fed her, but it was not strong. She had even groaned a few times in her sleep already, trying to fight it.

He hooked his arm under her neck, looking over at Beatrice who seemed lost in thought. “I’m going to hold her mouth open. Make sure every drop goes in.”

The Samoan witch stood up with a small huff and walked over to the surly Aquilen, her lips pursed tightly together as she took the vial from him, holding the sturdy glass gingerly between two fingers, not entirely sure what it was, though she was sure she didn’t want to get any on her skin.

Moving around to the other side of the bed, Beatrice sat down beside Natasha, her legs tucked beneath her body, leaning over her friend. “Ready when you are,” she said, glancing at Enzo.

Nodding, Enzo used his free hand, pulled apart Natasha’s lips. He hooked his thumb under her top row of teeth and his middle and index above her bottom row, giving Beatrice about an inch and a half of space.

He looked at her again. “Every drop, as fast as you can. Get ready to hold her down.”

“Hold her down?” Beatrice asked, eyes wide as she hastily poured the potion into her friend’s mouth, the glass clinking against her pristine white teeth.

Enzo watched every drop of the liquid run through the gap in Natasha’s mouth, and, as he assumed, her body writhed.

He used one hand to pin down her shoulder and the other to clasp over her mouth, ensuring that she did not spit any of it out.  

“It's a natural reaction,” he said calmly. “Lasts a few seconds.”

Beatrice carefully set the vial down on the nightstand, not wanting the German to become belligerent and possibly end up with shattered glass embedded in her arm, and shot Calix a worried glance before hesitantly pressing her hands against the unconscious woman’s shoulder.

Enzo counted down from five in his head, and when he finished, so did Natasha’s fit. He sighed, leaning back when she had stilled once more.

“I don't know what he gave her,” Enzo started. “But it had a violent reaction to her system. This will counter any negative, long term effects it may have on her brain… She should be awake in a few minutes.”

Calix turned towards Enzo, finishing his protective charms on the Den. When the Frenchman had called them, Calix was more concerned with Natasha than with Ibori, her unconscious body draped over Enzo’s shoulders. She had done her job perfectly, distracting him enough for Enzo to spike the professor’s drink as promised, but Ibori must have caught onto her ruse in the end and attempted to snuff the double-edged sword out.

“I’ll keep an eye on her from here,” Calix said, dragging the top of his wand across the ropes that bound Ibori to the chair, a crimson shimmer coating the rough fibres. “Now the potion’s out of the way, I can look after her.”

“What a badass,” Mel breathed, watching the whole scene with a mixture of shock and respect. Natasha had really taken one for the team.

And it had worked. Mel crouched in front of the chair Enzo was currently securing Ibori to. A hatred she had never known before bubbled up in her chest.

“I can’t believe how much destruction this prick has caused,” she muttered.

“He doesn’t look it now,” Calix spat, “Slumped and bound. Can you wake him, Enzo? I’ll try and wake Nat.”

Enzo nodded. “I can, but let's wait for Natasha to wake up. If anyone deserves to see him tied up right now, it's her.”

The minutes slowly slipped by, every second a drawn out mini lifetime, as Calix sat anxiously on the bed next to Natasha. There was a tight tension in his heart, a sense of unease waiting for the German witch to wake up before the whole company, gathered in the Den like perched birds of prey, brought the potions master back to life.

He was about to face judges and jury - as he deserved.

By his side, after about a half hour of agonising patience, Natasha gave a small stir.

“She’s waking up,” Calix called out, his hands lighting up with a bright red glow.

Natasha shifted slightly as she heard a voice nearby, feeling a soft surface underneath her. She knew she was waking up, but she had no idea where, as her last conscious memory was of Ibori's smug expression, and it seemed unlikely that he moved her to a bed after drugging her.

It took another few moments for the German's dark eyes to open, drifting slowly over to the source of the voice next to her. She blinked slowly, trying to clear away the bleariness, her entire body weighed down with exhaustion.

"Calix?" she finally mumbled, having to squint slightly to recognize the wizard.

“Yeah. It’s us,” Calix smiled, taking Natasha’s wrist in his hand, checking for her pulse as his healing magic poured into her, the dense fog scuttling along her skin. “You did it. A little hiccup, but you did it.”

“How are you feeling?” Mel asked nervously, leaning against the bed frame.

Natasha glanced over at Mel when she heard another voice.

"Not bad," she muttered, pulling her arm away from Calix and starting to sit up. "I’m assuming he drank from his goblet, then?" she asked, since she was waking up with her unlikely company, rather than bound in a prison of some sort. 

“He did,” Calix said, standing up and pointing his wand towards the slumped figure, wrapped up in blood-red ropes in the chair.

Natasha’s tired eyes lazily followed Calix’s gesture, eventually landing on the bound professor. A wry smile twisted her lips and she nodded, a hand running through her hair.

“Good,” she muttered, sitting up fully and closing her eyes for a moment to try to calm a wave of dizziness. She couldn’t wait to see his expression when he realized he’d been outsmarted by the ‘dumb children’ he was so sure couldn’t beat him.

“So,” Enzo said, glad to see that Natasha had made a full recovery. “We’re ready?”

He did not want to admit it, but, even as they outmatched Ibori five to one and he was restrained, Enzo was scared for the man to open his eyes.

A deep breath somewhat steadied Calix’s nerves, his stormy eyes glued to the back of Ibori’s skull. His oaths kept him from doing something vicious, but Calix couldn’t deny the overwhelming desire to see him suffer, to rid Idorna of his menace.

“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Calix muttered with a flick of his wand, the red shackles tightening.

“We’ll fuck him up if he tries anything,” Mel agreed. “Proceed.”

Natasha just nodded, pulling out her wand even though she didn’t fully trust her ability to accurately cast a spell yet. The grogginess already seemed to be wearing off, so it wouldn’t be long before she was good as new.

Beatrice sauntered over to the chair, standing a foot away from the dangerous criminal with her wand drawn at the ready. He might just be a professor of potions, but there was no telling how volatile he could be and she was damn sure he wouldn’t have an opportunity for escape on her watch.

Enzo walked over to Ibori, taking the vial he prepared last night out of his pocket. He knew he would be waking Ibori again - not Natasha. They were lucky he always kept supplies in the Den.

He placed one hand on his forehead, pushing his head back, the act forcing his lips apart. He uncorked the vial and poured the antidote down his throat, taking a few steps backwards once he did, drawing his wand.

Wake up, you son of a bitch.

Within seconds, Enzo saw Ibori’s chest lurch forwards a bit, then his adam’s apple began to bob. As the antidote worked its way into his system, he began to breathe once more. His eyes slowly began to peel open as if they were stitched together. He licked at his cracked lips, his shoulders moving instinctively when he noticed they were in an awkward position.

Finally, he fully opened his eyes, looking at the group. Enzo kept his wand trained on him, making sure not to even blink.

Ibori looked frightened for a moment, but only a moment. When he locked eyes with Enzo, he slightly raised his eyebrows. “I should not have been so cocky, hm?”

“No,” Enzo said. “You shouldn’t have.”

Ibori pulled at the restraints, shaking his head when he realized it was futile. His gaze moved over to the bed where Natasha sat, and he smiled. “My dear, Ms. Kraus. You’re lucky you have such loyal companions at your side. I almost had you for a moment there, didn’t I?”

Natasha stared back at Ibori, her expression icy. “Luck has nothing to do with it, Professor,” she responded. “But you really shouldn't underestimate your students.”

“No, I shouldn't,” he responded with a trace of defeat lacing his tone. He scanned each and every one of the students, seeming to hesitate before speaking again. “I'm far from a good person, I realize, but I am not the villain in this story.”

Enzo scoffed, shaking his head. “Please, explain then.”

“Only if you ensure my safety once I tell you,” Ibori muttered lowly. “Only if you release me once I do so.”

Clenching his fist, the ropes squeezed harder around Ibori as Calix stepped closer, his wand raised: “You must think us pretty stupid, Professor. You’re going nowhere - and you’ve got very little to bargain with.”

“Who will take the kill shot?” Ibori asked nonchalantly, as if asking what would be for dinner. “Not the merciful medic. The brave Aquilen? Maybe the angry Cucurrion. Possibly one of the Gestonas? Will it be the Vincent’s whore or the murderer of Mr. Crix?”

Calix took a sharp breath, swallowing his warm-blooded anger, and glanced at Enzo. Collectively, they had beaten Ibori to that particular question, but it was a good question all the same. A question that required a very specific answer. Ibori was secure, for now, but what was their next move.

“We’ve thought that through,” Calix replied, “We’re more interested in your half-arsed explanation, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Ibori laughed, shaking his head. “Ah, Calix Galen,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “I relished the day I would get to confront you face to face after your… altercation with Mr. Crix. I must admit, this is not how I saw it panning out…”

Mel shook her head, angrily digging her nails into her palm. “Are you kidding me? You threw Vincent to the vampires. Killed countless students and put even more in danger. How can you sit there and try and tell us you’re not a villain?”

“She's right,” Calix said, raising his eyebrows, “This altercation is on our terms. Cut the bullshit, and start talking. You’re a villain, a murderer and liar.”

“All masters at your craft and yet still so naive,” he muttered, a playful grin on his lips. “You must know that there is more to this picture than a simple mad man. Think hard…” He looked directly at Enzo. “Mr. Bellerose. Think.”

Enzo tried to not cling to his words, aiming his wand at Ibori’s throat.

“Ah, there it is,” Ibori replied. “There is that brash Aquilen nature I have grown so accustomed to… Kill me, and you will forever have a missing piece to your puzzle. Kill me, and you lose.”

“Lose what exactly?” Beatrice asked, finally speaking up, her wand still poised at the ready, pointed at his hands fidgeting ceaselessly behind his back, sausage like fingers caressing the rough hewn rope in a way that made her stomach turn. “You don’t really intend for us to believe that by killing a quarter of the student body, you’re serving some greater purpose and saving everybody else?” Teddy and Chantal weren’t sane enough to think of the bigger picture like that with bloodlust dripping from their lips. Why would Ibori be any different?

The scowl on Calix’s face changed slightly as the gears ticked over inside his head. Part of him thought that Ibori was just buying time, playing and toying with them, like villains do. The rest of him latched onto one word Beatrice had spoken.

“Serving,” Calix whispered.

“Ah,” Ibori said when Calix muttered the word under his breath. “Someone finally finds the penultimate piece of the puzzle. Although, I would consider our relationship to be more authentic than ‘serving’.”

“Who?” Enzo asked, sweat beginning to form on the hand holding his wand.

“I'm still awaiting the confirmation that I will not be put down once I say so,” Ibori replied, looking almost proud of them for snaking him out.

Beatrice pursed her dry lips together and narrowed her eyes as she looked around the room before nodding. “We could say the same to you. How do we know you won’t try to kill us when, and if, we let you go? And how do we verify that what you say is the truth and not just some propaganda you’ve cooked up to feed students who might otherwise get in your way to join your cause?” she asked, taking a step back away from him as she began twirling her wand between her fingers like a baton.

“I wouldn’t trust anything that comes out of his mouth,” Calix said, casting a glance at the Frenchman beside him, “All he’s missing is a forked tongue, and all we’re missing is three drops of veritaserum. You don’t happen to have a vial of that lying around do you, Enzo?”

Enzo slowly shook his head, keeping his eyes trained on Ibori, white hot anger burning through his veins as his wand twisted in his hand.

It would be so easy. Two words. You know them, Enzo. He's a bad man. He deserves it.

“Well, then. I suppose you will just have to either kill me or leave me here,” Ibori said. “Because there is no way that I am going to eradicate everything I have worked f-”

That was when the entire room shifted, cutting Ibori off. Everything in the Den began to shake: the beds, the lamps, the bedside tables, the room itself - violently.

Enzo was thrown to the ground, his nose colliding with the hardwood floor, blood instantly gushing from it. The dark red substance mixed into his beard and the carpet, running through the cracks in the floorboards as his wand clattered to the ground beside him.

“What’s going on?!” Mel exclaimed, clinging to the nearby bedpost for support. Her teeth rattled in her skull - it felt like her insides were a liquor in a cocktail shaker.

Calix’s legs gave way beneath him, his body crashing to the floor. His forehead hit the wooden floorboards with a deafening clatter, a proud din echoing inside his skull. Red haze swirled across his vision, momentarily blinding him, and Calix knew straight away that if it wasn’t for his protective mist he would be concussed or worse - like Enzo, lying beside him as the room shook, in his blood.

Beatrice fell backwards towards the door, roughly breaking her fall before her head collided with the stony floor, though unfortunately not too soon to move out of the way of Ibori and the off kilter chair he was magically bound to, the weight of the potions master pinning her to the ground. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, attempting to force herself to stay silent though the sickening snap in her leg as the behemoth tried to push himself up begged the differ. “Fuck! Somebody get him off me,” she yelped, her eyes watering heavily though she squeezed them shut, not wanting to appear any weaker in front of their adversary.

Seated at the edge of the bed, the force of the sudden shaking was enough to knock Natasha to the floor. With her head still muddled and the little time she had to react, it was a miracle that she got her arms out in time to break the fall, preventing her face from slamming against the wood, and that she managed to keep her wand in her grasp. She stayed on the ground, the shaking and lingering effects of the potion combining to make her head swim. But then Beatrice called out for help, and the Cucurrion realized she might be the only one unhurt and able to do something.

She aimed her wand towards the chair pinning Beatrice to the ground, trying to focus and steady her hand. Finally, she just shook her head and muttered, "Bombarda." Thankfully, her aim was good enough, despite all of the factors working against it, as the spell collided with the chair rather than Beatrice, exploding the wood and throwing Ibori away from the Gestona, removing the weight on top of her.

Beatrice grunted and propped herself up on her elbow, her free hand going to her injured leg, all her focus being pulled to the brokeness within her own body. She looked up from her invisible wound to see Ibori stand and dust himself off, quietly leaving with a malicious smirk on his lips though she couldn’t quite register the image with anything but the radiating pain from just above her knee.

Enzo groaned, using one hand to hold his bleeding a broken nose and the other to grab his wand, unable to hold the tears back from springing to his eyes.

“He's gone,” he muttered nasally as the shaking in the Den came to a sudden halt.

However, as soon as he spoke, he could hear the screams of horror from the floors below them. They were not human - but they were familiar - too familiar.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Two-Hundred Twenty-Two: Enzo and Natasha

Enzo had been watching from farther down the fourth floor, sitting on one of the benches that overlooked the rest of the staircases. He did his best to keep his breathing low, liquid luck running through his veins as he made sure his face, for the most part, was hidden behind a suit of armor.

When he saw Natasha enter Professor Ibori’s office, he waited with bated breath, praying that she would exit once again. After two or three minutes of anxious waiting, she finally did, but with Ibori on her heels. He watched Ibori turn back to the door, assuming it was to lock it, before heading up the stairs.

She did it.

He waiting another thirty seconds or so - just enough for them to make it to the fifth floor - before he stood from the bench, trying to act casual as he made his way towards the office. He rattled the handle foolishly, knowing it would be locked. He briefly looked both ways, letting an Ibinia pass him before he pulled his wand from his waistband, casting an ‘alohomora’ on the lock. The door swung open, and Enzo stepped inside, shutting it and locking it from behind.

Beatrice’s words rang in his head: ‘Just make sure to cast a disillusionment charm on yourself in case he comes back early.’

Enzo obeyed, casting the novice charm on his body. If someone saw him face to face, it would be easily broken, but it should ensure his safety so long as he was well hidden.

Ibori’s office was dark, the smell of old potions and used ingredients stuffing Enzo’s nostrils. He exhaled slowly, walking over to Ibori’s desk. It didn’t look much different than Enzo expected: documents of research, class schedules, empty vials, a small cauldron… and his goblet. It seemed to be half full of the dark, murky liquid he usually drank in class.

Enzo slowly held his wand over the goblet when he remembered Beatrice’s warning that there might be more to the drink than a strong coffee, letting his lips form the spell. “Revelio,” he cast. A small, orange light emerged from the tip of his wand, and he waited for the liquid to reveal magical properties, but nothing came. It really was just gross coffee.

Shaking his head, Enzo reached into his pocket, extracting the vial of clear liquid. Sleep Draught. It was much stronger than what he slipped into Andre’s nightly tea. This would have the consumer unconscious in mere seconds.

Thank you for your many lessons, professor. I will never forget them.

Quickly, he popped the cork off of the vial and poured the lot into the goblet before pocketing the vial once more.

Not wanting to wait around for a sign of Ibori’s return, Enzo tiptoed to the back of the room, sure not to make a sound. He peered around the office, spotting another desk, chairs, wardrobes…

Enzo almost chuckled when he saw the oversized cauldron. It was like something out of an old children’s book, where a stereotypical green witch with warts on her nose would stir her evil brews. However, in reality, they were simply used to mass produce potions - usually mundane brews that could be bought by children at shops, like a love potion. He peered inside, smelling the odd mixture of garlic and scorched wood.

This is as good as I am going to get.

He slowly lifted himself into the empty cauldron, ducking down to ensure his mane was not visible from over the lip of it, and waited for the murderer to return.        

​Natasha followed Ibori back to his office once they were finished in the Den. This wasn't part of the plan, but if everything had gone as it should with Enzo, it wouldn't cause any problems. Besides the possibility of her revealing herself early, of course. But so far, she had been doing well, and Ibori seemed to trust her just enough for her to finish this out.

Once the door was shut behind them, Natasha once again took a seat in front of Ibori's desk, crossing her ankles and waiting, seemingly patiently, for him to do whatever it was he was planning on. She assumed she was going to be questioned, and could only hope he took a drink from his goblet before it went too far.

Ibori sat at his desk after locking the door behind Natasha. He folded his hands on the desk, exhaling slowly. “You very well may have saved an important soul by pointing me to those… nuisances.”

Enzo kept low when he heard both pairs of footsteps come back into the room.

Natasha?  

“Well, whatever is going to keep me alive,” she answered, smirking slightly as she watched Ibori. If everything went to plan, Enzo was still somewhere in the room. She just hoped Ibori wouldn’t find him before he drank the potion. “I never cared much for them anyway.”

Keeping low, Enzo marveled at how convincing Natasha’s statement sounded, and for a brief moment, he found himself doubting her… No, she was their ally. She was his friend. She wouldn’t give him away…

“Excellent,” Ibori stated.

Slowly, the Potions Master reached down to grab a new goblet. He placed it in front of Natasha with a smile, waving his wand over it.

Enzo had never heard the spell he cast before - it was something in a foreign tongue. He wanted nothing more than to peek over the cauldron, but he did not know how effective his charm was.

“Drink,” Ibori said to Natasha after grabbing his own goblet. “It’s a brew from my home country.”

Natasha’s eyes followed Ibori’s movements. The spell was foreign to her, and she had no idea what he had just put in the goblet. But if she refused and it made Ibori suspicious, it was no longer just her life that was in danger--it was Enzo’s, as well. So despite the risk she knew she was taking, the Cucurrion squeezed her hand for just a moment, to rid it of any trembling, before reaching forward and taking the new goblet. Her eyes on Ibori, she lifted it to her lips and took a long drink.

An instant after the liquid passed her lips, Natasha started to feel lightheaded. She tried to set the goblet back on the desk, but the room was starting to spin, and instead, it fell with a loud clatter to the floor. She gripped the edge of her chair to attempt to steady herself, looking towards Ibori.

“What...the hell...was in that?” she gasped. She could already feel herself fading, consciousness slipping away from her.

“Stupid child,” Ibori said, standing up from his chair, goblet in hand as he stared down to Natasha’s form. “Did you really think that I believed your little double agent story? I’ve been doing this a long time, Ms. Kraus. I know when someone is onto me.

“Don’t worry, though. The drink won’t kill you. In fact, you won’t be killed at all if you cooperate in the coming days. You will be a vital asset to our plan, and you will be instrumental in shaping the future of this school.

“But I really must thank you for the information given. I knew you five had some gang prowling the school for secrets, and now I know where to find them should I need to.”

Enzo heard everything, and his blood began to boil. From Ibori and Natasha’s words, he could tell that she had been drugged. He dared to look over the lip of the cauldron, watching the scene fold out, a million thoughts spiraling through his mind.

Natasha listened to Ibori’s words, but by the end, it was just a blur of his deep voice, the individual syllables no longer coherent to her. She tried to stand, but that was a mistake, because the instant she managed to get to her feet, still leaning heavily on the chair, the potion took its full effect and she blacked out entirely. Her legs gave way, and her body collapsed to the floor, completely knocked out.

Enzo was moments from leaping out of the cauldron, wand already in his grasp, when he watched Ibori chuckle, mutterings about ‘foolish children’ and how he would ‘never be found out’.

Then, slowly, Ibori raised the goblet to his lips, knocking back the rest of the drink. Enzo watched in awe, mouth slightly agape, as the potion slammed into his professor’s system. It took not thirty seconds before Ibori showed the telltale signs: yawning, rubbing his eyes, holding onto his desk for support.

It was working.  

As the draught kicked into full force, Ibori had a similar reaction to Natasha, but not quite as violent. He lurched, forward, falling onto his hands and knees beside the student he had only just drugged, choking sounds rippling from his throat as he tore his vision around the office. “Bell...rose… Where are… you?” he spat out angrily before his eyes flicked back into his skull and his body collapsed to the floor.

Enzo sat still for a moment, as if, if he moved, Professor Ibori would spring to life again. He waited five seconds, ten seconds, thirty seconds, a full minute, and nothing. The draught had done its job.

That could have gone worse.

Enzo let out a shaky breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and pulled himself out of the cauldron, his boots landing on the stone floor of the office before he rushed to Natasha’s side. He would have been more scared for her wellbeing if Ibori hadn’t explained that she would not die from the drug. He just hoped it wouldn’t last long. Although, he had remedies for sleep draughts in the Den - hopefully they would work on her.

Still…

He pulled his sweater off and balled it up, placing it under Natasha’s head before he stood back up, aiming his wand towards the door. He casted his patronus, sending the doe to the others in the Grotto with only a one word message:

“Hurry”.

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Two-Hundred Twenty-One: Natasha

The door to Ibori’s office seemed daunting. Knowing now that the man behind it was so twisted, had committed so many atrocities, it was hard, even for Natasha, to not be afraid. But she knew that it was necessary for her to go in, and equally important that she cover her nerves as she did. Any waver, and Ibori might put together that she was attempting to trick him. So she took a few deep breaths to settle herself, tried to fix her mindset, and knocked on the heavy wooden door.

As soon as Ibori spoke, telling her to enter, the Cucurrion pushed open the door and stepped inside. She had already schooled her face into a calm facade, but upon seeing him, she let her lips twist into a small smirk, eyes glinting with mischief. It was an expression she had perfected over the years, but felt wrong to use now. Nevertheless, she persisted, focused on the task at hand.

“Evening, Professor,” she greeted smoothly, speaking as if she was unable to keep the smugness out of her tone. “I was hoping you had a minute to talk?”

Ibori put down his now empty vial, placing both palms on the smooth surface of his desk when Natasha Kraus entered his office. She was one of them - one of the children in his way. Maybe her being here was a blessing - a way to get her out of his way.

“Ms. Kraus,” he said, playing a kind smile. “It’s nearly curfew, so this will have to be brief, I’m afraid.”

Natasha had never spoken to the Potions professor much, but she could see why Enzo wouldn’t suspect him. Had she not already known about what he had done, he would seem like nothing more than a slightly intimidating man, who was welcoming enough.

“Of course,” she nodded, walking over and taking a seat in the chair across from his desk. “It won’t take long. I have some information that I thought might interest you.”

Ibori’s eyebrows perked up at her words, intrigued. “Is that so? Pertaining to what?”

“Pertaining to a few of my fellow students,” Natasha said, allowing her smirk to grow a bit. “I think you might know who. Calix Galen, Enzo Bellerose, Beatrice Selwyn, and Melanie Winter.”

Ibori cocked his head to the side, his lips slightly parting. “I am familiar with those four, yes.”

So far, so good. Natasha wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t revealing anything to her, and while she’d hoped he would, it wasn’t what she needed. She just needed him to be interested enough to follow her to the Den.

“I’m sure you are,” she said, laughing softly. “Especially since they’ve been in the way of whatever it is you’re trying to do here. And I want to help you get rid of them.”

Ibori knew of Natasha Kraus. Most of the professors had been informed of her before she entered Idorna less than three years ago. He parents had deemed her unfit to attend Durmstrang, and eventually perished in a car accident. He knew she had been working with this group of misfits, sticking their noses where they didn’t belong…

But this one…

“Just what is it that I am trying to do, Ms. Kraus?” he asked, leaning forward a bit.

Natasha laughed again, shaking her head as she sat back in her chair. She crossed one leg over the other, calmly resting her hands on her lap. “Honestly, Professor, I’m not entirely sure. But I know that I want to be a part of it. So, if you’d like, I can show you where they meet. It’s their little safe spot, which I’m sure would be very easy to corner them in.”

Ibori decided it was best to drop the facade; he knew that she knew. Otherwise, she would not be here. “And why would you turn on your friends? I know you’ve been with them for some time now. If you truly know that I am working on a… project, why oppose me and then change your mind?”  

Natasha felt sick to her stomach. This man had killed so many people, slaughtered innocents, and he was calling it a project? She didn’t let it show on her face, however, instead just shrugging slightly.

“One of the first people killed, at the Quidditch match, was my roommate. I felt like I wanted revenge, which was why I helped them in the first place. But the more we learned about what you were doing, the more I realized I was on the wrong side.”

He slowly tilted his head, clenching his jaw. He had lost both Chantal and Theodore - one of whom was dead. Would another student be helpful? He was so close now.

So close…

Slowly, he extracted his wand from his cloak, holding it firmly in his grasp. “You try anything, and you die,” he said slowly, matter-of-factly. “Show me.”  

Natasha nodded, keeping her hands away from her wand as she stood up. She was itching to draw it, to end this right now, but Ibori was almost certainly a better duelist than her, and she would be dead before her wand was fully raised. So she kept her hands visible as she led the professor out of his office and up the stairs towards the Den.

Ibori kept his hands in his pockets as the pair left his office, but his wand was still at the ready if need be. Curfew would be in effect soon, and most students were in or on their way to their common rooms, so the staircase was mostly vacant.

“What gain do you get from being on my side?” Ibori asked after an Ibinia girl was out of earshot.

Natasha was working hard to keep herself calm, knowing that the most dangerous part of this was likely still to come. She hadn’t promised him anything about the others being in the Den, but if it was what he expected and they weren’t there, she could be in trouble. At Ibori’s question, however, she turned to look at him.

“Survival,” she told him, shrugging again. “So far, the body count of your project is quite high, and only getting higher. Seems like my best option for surviving it all is to be on the winning side.”

They reached the end of the fifth floor corridor, standing in front of the familiar portrait. Natasha glanced at the Potions professor once more before facing the painting. She spoke quietly, but clearly enough that Ibori could hear her.

“Blóð.” As usual, the woman pushed the blade through her heart and the hidden door swung open. Natasha smirked slightly and turned her eyes to Ibori again, then stepped inside the Den.

Ibori’s eyes widened slightly at the password. He had stared at this damned painting for hours, trying to figure out a way past it. When Theodore told him they met on the fifth floor, this seemed like the most likely area. How simple it was: the Icelandic word for blood.

Ibori stepped inside the room, wand fully drawn now. He was confident in his abilities, but he only knew of the five misfits against him. There could be more.

“And this is it?” he asked. “This is where they meet?”

Despite knowing that the others were in the Grotto, safely hidden, and that Enzo was likely in Ibori’s office by now, Natasha was relieved to find the Den completely empty when they arrived. Which meant the only person in danger was her.

“This is it,” she nodded. “They still think it’s safe, since it’s been untouched since Theodore died.”

“And what do they… do, once inside?” he asked, opening and closing drawers as he paced through. He knew Idorna was old, but he had never found anything hidden in the castle other than the dungeons.

Her eyes tracked him as he moved through the room, knowing he wouldn’t find anything useful but allowing him to search anyway. The longer he spent in here, the longer Enzo had to get in and out without being caught.

“Mostly talk,” she told him. “They figured out the words that were spoken at the Quidditch match, from the voice in the sky, as well as before the Vampire attack. They also tried to piece together who was involved, but never got far. It wasn’t until after Professor Vincent died that they thought about you being involved.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as she spoke, and he turned back to her. “Ah, yes. The voice in the sky,” he repeated. “Tell me, Ms. Kraus, did your friends ever figure out who’s voice that was, exactly?”

Natasha shook her head, finally telling Ibori something truthful. “No. They never had any clue.”

Ibori licked his lips, but before he could speak again, he heard a silent ‘ding’ from the corner of the room. He turned, looking at the grandfather clock that told him it was currently ten o’clock.

Sighing, he turned back to Natasha. “You’ve been of great use to me tonight, Natasha,” he spoke plainly. “However, you will be spending the night with me, in my office. I hope you do not take it personally that I don’t particularly trust you just yet.”

At first, Natasha thought she was going to be dismissed, allowed to return to her dormitory. But then Ibori continued, and his words caused an ugly panic to rear up inside her, which she had to work hard to keep covered. She could only hope that Enzo had done his job, and that Ibori would drink the potion quickly.

“Of course,” she said smoothly, after only a moment’s pause. “Most people don’t trust me. But I hope that you’ll see soon enough that I can be of plenty more use to you, if you let me.”

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Two-Hundred Twenty: Beatrice/Calix

After being stuck staring up at the ceiling for two hours, her stomach was growling so loud, she could have sworn the sound was echoing off the walls and had to leave to go get dinner. Exiting the Great Hall with her blue canvas backpack nearly overflowing with sandwiches made of spiral cut ham, spinach and kale salad and cranberry spread on dinner rolls, Beatrice had paused beside the staircase to look around. 

The school she had once loved so much, the walls which had seen some of her best days, felt cold and lonesome. She stood still and stared at the waxed wooden walls and the clean-swept marble floors, the memory of students dressed in neat, crisp uniforms traveling in all different directions though they were all part of the same river, flowing endlessly through the ancient castle. Now, all alone before curfew, Beatrice couldn’t help but stand still, trapped by the thought that she was watching something die. Ibori couldn’t kill everybody, but between all the attacks throughout the year, it seemed as though he had stunned the school into submissive silence. Students barely left their common rooms, except to go outside when it was safe. Professors were forced to become generals, struggling to figure out how to retreat safely from an oppressive enemy who wouldn’t respect a flag of truce. And the castle which was once a source of joy and knowledge throughout the world now suffocated, its voice stifled, blood run cold and still. Maybe we can keep you alive too.

Beatrice stepped forwards silently, her featherlight footsteps glancing echoes setting her nerves at ill ease as she climbed the staircase, taking the steep stairs two at a time. She needed to get upstairs to the Grotto and soon. If everything was going according to plan, Natasha would be ratting them out in ten minutes and bringing Ibori to the Den, and there was no way the Samoan was going to be caught out after hours.

She rounded the corner on the eighth floor and came to a halt at the top of the seventh floor, resting her hands on her knees while she faltered, trying to bring her raucous heart to a rest, her pulse peeling in her ears, drawing out the sound of voices traveling up the stairs from below. Swallowing her sandpaper dry tongue, the startled witch scuttled around the corner, tripping over her own feet and collapsing into the arms of a man stood in the darkness by the entrance to the Grotto.

Parting her dehydrated lips, ready to scream even though the threat of Ibori just one floor below was terrifying enough as it was, Beatrice looked up into a pair of familiar, mollifying quicksilver eyes. “Calix!” she hissed, swatting his arm playfully.

“What?” Calix asked under his breath, catching the tumbling witch in his arms and pushing her back onto her feet softly as she slapped his arm, her snappy hiss caught between terror and relief. “What did I do?”

“You scared me!” she whispered, frantically tugging him down the narrow hallway towards the Grotto, her fingers interlaced with his tightly. “I’m sorry, pele. I thought one of the professors was chasing me,” Beatrice explained, resting her forehead tiredly against his chest, soft hair acting like a curtain, hiding her from the rest of the world.

“Hey,” Calix cooed sweetly, kissing the top of Beatrice’s head as he lifted her nervous frame into his arms, her legs secured around his waist and her forehead pressed firmly against his rising chest, where his treacherous heart beat too quickly as the time slipped by.

“I wouldn’t let that happen, love,” he said.

She slowly raised her head and brought her gaze up to meet his, warm chocolate meeting stormy grey. “We’re okay, right?” she asked, the pads of her soft fingers brushing against his rough jaw. “Like we’re gonna be okay, right?” Calix raised his hand and placed it over Beatrice’s delicate fingers, tenderly caressing her soft skin, carrying her effortlessly into the fire-lit Grotto. “Of course we’re going to be okay. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know,” she breathed, her heart still racing beneath her breast as she wrapped her arms tighter around the caring Irishman’s shoulders. “We just didn’t really clear the air after our fight. And I don’t want you to think that I stopped loving you or that I don’t care because I do. You’re the most important person in my life, and you make my world worth living in, stars or no stars. I love you, Calix, and I don’t want to lose you.” Beatrice rambled, catching her bottom lip between her teeth when she caught him staring at her

Calix stared into Beatrice’s eyes as he sat down on the edge of the luxurious bed, his girlfriend perched in his lap, silencing her rambles with a chaste and sensitive kiss. This was their last moment of quiet, their final chance before the world came crashing down around them, and Calix wanted to make the most of it.

Beatrice’s lips were dry and scratchy, harsh against his own, and he ran his thumb across them as he pulled away, the skin softening beneath his touch.

“Then, let me clear it, sweetheart,” Calix explained, the chill that lingered between them punctured and slowly thawing by the heat of the fire, “I love you too. I love you with all my heart, every fibre of my being, and I most certainly am not losing you. Do you hear me? Why? For one simple reason.”

He shifted slightly, snaking his free arm around Beatrice's waist and pulling her closer to him, looking deep into her beautiful eyes.

He wasn’t going to lose her.

Or anyone else.

He wouldn’t be able to bear it.

“Why? Because when this is all done, I have a date with a wonderful witch, in a magical observatory, where she’s going to teach all about the stars. And I am not missing that date for the world.”

She sniffled and looked up at the crystal-bedecked canopy, trying very hard not to cry. I know you’re stressed and emotions are running high right now, but don’t ruin the mood. Allowing a simple smile to grace her face she dared a quick look, getting lost in his spellbinding eyes as she would the galaxies above on a clear night. She felt a wave of heat slither up her spine, painting her tan cheeks a warm cherry color the dancing flames in the hearth accentuated beautifully, light shining on her silky black curls.

“Good,” she finally whispered, a vague voice of warning sounding in the back of her head as she pressed close to him and stole another sweet, aching kiss to his lips, pulling away to let the sensation linger. “You better not because if we make it out of this night alive I’ve got a whole list of things to do with you, and as much as I wish we could get started now, Mel’s gonna walk through that door any second, and Enzo might need our help soon,” Beatrice reluctantly said, sliding off his lap though she let her arms fall to his waist.

Calix’s eyes closed, the feeling of Beatrice’s lips pressed against his and her fingertips grazing his waist sending shivers through his back. The corners of his mouth curved upwards as he nodded his head and collapsed onto the bed.

“I’m looking forward to what's on that list, babe,” he murmured, “Once all this behind us… once all this is done…”

A soft chuckle passed through her lips as she laid down on the mass of soft pelts beside him, daydreaming of a brighter future the present seemed to challenge. Someday soon.

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Two-Hundred Nineteen: Calix

Let’s play a game, shall we?

Games are fun, Calix.

I like playing games.

The cold chains rattled and whistled as Calix dragged his fingertips along the coarse, interlocking rings, the browning steel spotted red along its length and at the bottom, where the large manacles hung open, bits of half-eaten gristle dangled like fresh, blushing meat on a butcher’s hook.

The bloated rats scurried beneath Calix’s feet, bitterly disappointed by the return of the wizard whose tiny, skin morsels gave sustenance to the growing population of chittering creatures, plodding in dark waters and gritty dirt. The helter-skelter sound, like the pitter-patter of a thousand raindrops, sent shivers of disgust through Calix’s spine, his shoulders shaking furiously.

Rabid, festering creatures, he thought, Disease carriers running amuck beneath the floorboards.

The scars on his wrists pinned while he looked around the dungeon, the tremors of disgust replaced by the biting cold, as memories drifted through the sands of thought and crashed onto the surface of his mind, where they beached themselves in hopes of undivided attention. The sickening memories of Crix and all their games came rushing back quickly.

Calix shook his head, turning away from the cruel display and focusing on the workbench, his wand hovering above the wooden surface. He didn’t want to think about Crix nor what had happened in that room - he had much more important things to worry about, such as Ibori, the safety of his friends and the woman he loved, who was colder with him since their argument.

The bench was littered in dust shrouded papers, broken glass and vile ingredients, an overwhelming concoction of rot and decay. He pulled open each of the drawers, searching through the contents for anything useful.

It wouldn’t be long before Natasha turned her back on their company, before she dragged Ibori to the Den and their trap. He really hoped the professor would take the bait. He found it tremendously strange that he trusted Natasha so wholeheartedly - as he trusted Enzo, Mel and Beatrice - and, deep down, somewhat feared for her too. She excelled at charming people, he knew that first hand; he only hoped she hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew on her own.

Before their plan was sprung, Calix decided to check out Crix’s dungeon one last time. He didn’t know what he would find. Crix was a diligent and secretive person, having kept his murderous and sadistic nature under wraps for many years, and Calix didn't believe that he’d simply find his end goal written on a scrap of paper. But, he hoped he might find something of value, some tidbit of information that would help them along.

There was nothing there, though.

Sighing, Calix pulled the handle on the final drawer, which was stuck a little firmer than the ones above it. His intrigue piqued: it could be nothing, like everything else; or, it could be more.

He tugged hard, freeing the drawer from its confinement and peeked inside, pointing a lumos into the darkness. Lying in the drawer, there were three small glass vials, filled with a sick-yellow, gelatinous fluid. Calix recognised the potions immediately.

Crix had loved those potent tonics, having slaved over a bubbling cauldron for hours and hours to make them. With a smile on his face, Calix scooped the vials into his hand and kicked the drawer closed.

There was nothing there.

Not anymore.

The passageway out of the dungeon reappeared in the Great Hall. Stepping through the doorway, wonderfully hidden as a wall panel, Calix checked his watch. He didn’t have much time. Natasha would be with Ibori soon and Calix needed to get to the Grotto.

Counting how long he had left, Calix grabbed his wand from the waistband of his trousers and ensured the potions were safe in his pocket before marching ahead, his head still bowed, his stormy eyes focused on the watch face.

Suddenly, after two short steps, Calix came to an abrupt stop. His body collided with something solid and he quickly stumbled backwards, almost toppling over.

“I’m so sorry,” Calix muttered, looking up.

He froze when he saw the colossus in front of him, wearing a broad smile. It took Calix a moment to realise who it was, without the bandages and the flock of eagles at his side.

Tysoe…

The guy from the infirmary…

“Jeez, Tysoe,” Calix said, raising his hands, “I’m sorry, I was in a world of my own.”

“That’s okay,” Tysoe replied, “I was hoping to bump into you somewhere. But, seems you did my job for me.”

“Seems I did, indeed.”

“I just came from the infirmary. I thought you might be there. I wanted to thank you properly.”

Calix smiled, shrugging his shoulders: “Don’t be silly…”

“I won’t,” Tysoe interrupted, “You saved my life, Calix. That means a goddamn lot to me. I know I wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t for you.”

“Tysoe…”

“Let me finish what I wanted to say,” the giant said firmly, clapping Calix on the shoulder. “I won’t keep you.”

“Okay, okay,” Calix conceded, “What’s up?”

“I wanted to say thank you. You saved me, and I owe you my life for that. I owe you big time.”

Calix raised his hands quickly, shaking them from side to side. “No, no, I don’t do this for any sort of recognition, Tysoe. You don’t owe me squat.”

“I do,” he stressed, “I owe you my life, Calix. And if this dumb duellist can help you in any way, you snap your fingers and I’ll do my best by you.”

“Tysoe, look…”

“I’m not having it, Calix,” Tysoe said forcefully, “If you ever need someone on your side, just give me a call. I’ll pay you back somehow.”

“Ty…”

“Not having it, Calix,” he laughed, smacking the Ibinia hard on the shoulder and walking off towards the dining hall. “I owe you my life, and I mean that.”

Calix nodded. He remembered Doctor Evans’ words, about duellists and their loyalties, about how saving Tysoe’s life may have gotten Calix a huge ally going forward, and he sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to change the Aquilen’s mind.

“Thank you, Tysoe. Glad you’re up and about.”

Tysoe waved over his shoulder and disappeared around the corner. Calix, rubbing his shoulder where the giant’s hand had clattered the bone and muscles, quickly sped towards the stairs.

There wasn’t much time left.

And that tonight - Ibori was going down.

[idornaseminary]

Chapter Two-Hundred Eighteen: Enzo/Mel

Mel stood outside the portrait, absently staring at the gruesome scene. She looked into the woman’s despairing eyes, wondering what could be going through her mind.

“I bet your life wasn’t even that bad,” she murmured, her voice echoing down the empty hallway. A pleasant smell drifted through the cracks of the portrait hole. Breathing deeply, she pushed it open and headed inside.

It was a familiar scene to her now, Enzo stooped over his cauldron. She felt a surge of affection at the way his curls fell into his eyes.

“Hard at work I see,” Mel said with a smirk, coming to stand over him. “It smells good. Whatcha making?”

Enzo looked up from his work as Melanie entered the room, smiling up at her as she hovered above. He was glad she was here before the others - hopefully long enough to give them time to speak in private.

“Not much,” he replied. “Just something to calm nerves. What do you think, though? More lemon or mint?”

She crouched down in front of the cauldron, breathing in a deep whiff. The lemon scent was faint, but comforting. It reminded her of spring afternoons spent cleaning the cottage with her father.

“Definitely more lemon.”

He nodded with a small grin, trapping the cork of the yellow vial between his teeth and yanking it off before pouring more lemon extract into the brew, stirring it idly as it began to simmer.

“What did you do all day?” he asked her, as if there was much to do.

She shrugged, settling into a cross-legged position on the floor. “Wandered, mostly. I feel so restless.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I get it… Enough to drive you insane, trapped here.”

Enzo never felt trapped at Idorna before. Of course, he always was. No one was ever allowed to leave Isle Velum unless it was for the Winter Break, expulsion, major injuries that could not be taken care of by Doctor Evans, or death. However, now, with the Vampires lurking in the Gladur, he very much felt like a caged eagle.

“Hopefully it all ends soon.” Her tone was bordering on wistful. Truthfully, she was scared as hell, but there was a sort of excitement at the thought of finally putting Ibori’s schemes to an end.

One way or another.

“Yeah… But enough about that for now,” he said, reaching behind him to the chaise, grabbing the book he had finished mere minutes prior. He tossed it across the cauldron to her, letting it fall onto her lap. “Can you tell me why this book does really not explain what happened to Boo Radley afterwards? Is there a sequel?”

“You finished it!” she exclaimed gleefully, hugging it to her chest. “There is in fact, a sequel. But I don’t think you should read it.”

“Why not?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“They turn Atticus into an old racist!” Mel huffed angrily. “It’s all wrong. Maybe it’s supposed to be artsy and thoughtful but to me it was character assassination.”

He couldn’t help but smile at how passionate she was on the topic. “Hmm,” he mumbled. “Maybe I’ll just remember him how he is here then.”

“A very good idea,” she said, giving the cover an affectionate pat. “You know, if we make it out of this, I have quite literally a boatload of muggle books for you to read. If you’re not sick of vampires, there’s this one called Twilight…” She trailed off into a laugh, shaking her head. “When,” she corrected herself. “When we make it out of this.”

Enzo grabbed the cauldron, setting it to his left. He slid himself closer to Melanie, his hands reaching out to touch her knees where she sat cross-legged. He looked into her eyes. “We will make it,” he said with certainty. “I promise you, we will.”

She covered his hands with her own, forcing a smile. “I know. I feel safe knowing you’re looking out for me. And I swear I won’t let anything happen to you either.”

“I know,” he said softly. He stretched out his legs on either side of her compacted form, placing his hands on the small of her back and pulling her closer to him. “We don’t have much time before the others arrive.”

She pressed her face into his chest. The smell of lemon lingered on his shirt, and she breathed it in, feeling her nerves melt away.

“I know,” she said, her voice muffled.

“Promise me, Melanie,” he said dimly, his lips against her blonde locks. “That when we come out the other end of this mess, we can sit like this again, somewhere where no one can find us.”

“You and me,” she said dreamily. “We’re going to take my dad’s boat and sail straight to the Caribbean. Blue seas and blue skies everyday.”

He chuckled. “You’ll have to protect me from the water,” he said. “But that sounds perfect.”