Katie.

The Great Hall was chaos, but not the usual kind. It was post-dinner storm chatter chaos. The kind where everything felt like a slow build-up to something stupid or magical—or both.

Adrien was poking at a piece of treacle tart like it had personally offended her. "If one more couple looks cute tonight, I will fake my own death out of spite."

"You almost died last month," Maddie pointed out. "Maybe cool it on the dramatics?"

"I said fake," Adrien snapped. "Real death doesn't come with a dramatic exit and a letter of vengeance."

Sage elbowed her. "You already wrote the letter, didn't you?"

Adrien just sipped her tea like it was poison.

Cassian glanced up from his notebook. "If your ghost haunts my dorm again, we're having words."

Rowan rolled his eyes and stole a chip off my plate. "She's only haunting the Astronomy Tower. Better lighting."

I gave them all a dry look. "Can we survive one week without trauma bonding or necromancy?"

Maddie smirked. "No."

And then—BOOM.

The castle shook.

The windows rattled like they were trying to escape the walls. The torches on the far side of the Great Hall exploded in a shower of sparks.

Every head snapped up.

The sound of screaming started somewhere above—then below.

And then all hell broke loose.

Rain whipped through the courtyard like knives—slashing across my skin, plastering my hair to my neck, soaking through every layer of clothing like the storm was trying to drown us where we stood.

And then the sky lit up—red, green, white. Spellfire arced through the darkness like fireworks made of nightmares.

I didn't think. I moved.

Rowan and Cassian were already ahead of us, shields raised, deflecting curses that poured from the Astronomy Tower like falling stars. Two fourth-years were huddled behind them, sobbing and screaming.

"Keep your heads down!" Rowan yelled, body angled to block a blast that splintered the stones by his feet.

Cassian didn't even flinch. "Behind me. Now!"

Maddie sprinted to the left, her braid flying behind her like a battle banner. She dove across the wet stone and threw up a protective barrier with a flick of her wand—glasslike, flickering blue.

"MOVE!" she barked, voice cutting through the chaos. "Keep left, down the stairs—DON'T look back!"

A trio of first-years were frozen against the wall near the staircase, their eyes wide and tearful. Maddie stood between them and the onslaught, teeth gritted, wand glowing hot.

From the opposite side, Sage emerged from the smoke like a force of nature. She grabbed a dazed third-year by the back of the collar and yanked them out of the way just as a curse scorched the air where their head had been.

"You wanna live?" she snarled, pushing the kid toward the stairs. "Then MOVE faster!"

And then it was just us.

Me and Adrien.

Back-to-back. Wands up.

We didn't say anything. Didn't need to. The air was thick with it—panic, yes, but more than that.

Grief.

I looked at her, at the fire in her eyes and the glow under her sleeves, and I knew.

We were too late.

No one listened.

Dumbledore hadn't listened.

The Cabinet. The warnings. The symbols. The creeping sense of something about to give.

It was all real. It was all happening. And they didn't stop it.

"Adrien," I said, my voice barely audible over the rain. "We told them."

Her lips parted like she was going to say something.

But then the ground exploded beneath us.

I didn't even feel my body hit the stone—I just remember flying, the wind knocked from my lungs, the scream caught in my throat as Adrien was ripped from my side and flung the opposite direction.

"ADRIEN!" I shouted.

But smoke swallowed her whole.

And me?

I landed hard, skidding across wet cobblestone. My shoulder cracked against the wall of the courtyard. My knees slammed into the stone with a crack that echoed through my bones. Pain shot up my thigh, white-hot, but I didn't let go of my wand.

Everything blurred for a moment—just color and pain and the crackling hum of battle.

Then I saw him.

Draco stepped through the smoke like a ghost torn out of memory—soaked through, robes in tatters, blond hair clinging to his face in wet strands. His eyes met mine. Wide. Wild. Haunted.

His wand trembled in his grip.

"Don't do this," I said, voice hoarse, cracking at the edges. "Don't make me do this."

He hesitated. Just a beat.

Then he said it—quiet, broken:

"I don't have a choice."

His mouth twitched like it hurt to say it.

"I'm sorry, Sass."

And then he cast.

We collided like a curse made flesh—spells slamming between us in quick succession, no time to think, no time to breathe. Just reaction. Instinct.

History.

His curses were familiar. Too familiar. Fast. Angry. Desperate.

Mine were sharper. Quicker. Meaner.

Every hex I blocked, I knew the rhythm of it. Every flick of his wrist was déjà vu laced with bitterness. We'd dueled before. Playfully. Quietly. Behind corners, behind bookshelves. Once in the greenhouses, laughing so hard we couldn't finish the duel.

This was not that. This was war.

And it felt like betrayal bleeding out between every clash.

"Stop," I gasped, ducking beneath a jinx that seared the air by my ear.

"You know I can't!" he shouted.

"You can!" I spun, a blast of red light colliding with his shield hard enough to knock him back two steps. "You always could!"

He didn't answer. Just gritted his teeth. Cast again.

I parried. Sparks rained between us. His wand was sparking at the tip—unstable from how hard he was pushing it. His jaw clenched like it was wired shut.

I pivoted left. Rolled.

Came up with my wand raised—

And disarmed him.

His wand skittered across the stone, clattering once before spinning to a stop near the steps.

He froze.

And in that second, so did I.

I could have ended it. I should have ended it.

But I didn't move.

Not because I couldn't.

But because I didn't want to.

Because even now, even after everything, I still saw him—the boy who kissed my forehead in the Owlery, who whispered things to me he didn't say to anyone else. The boy who warned me once to stay away for my own safety... and meant it.

The boy who walked away because of what he couldn't say.

Draco looked up at me.

And I saw it in his face.

He knew I wasn't going to finish it.

That I couldn't.

His chest rose and fell in one jagged breath.

And then—without a word—he stepped back, snatching his wand back up, and he disappeared into the smoke.

Gone.

I didn't stop him. I didn't chase him. I just stood there, wand shaking, shoulder bleeding, heart shattered in a way I didn't have time to feel yet.

Because this? This was only the beginning.

I barely had time to turn.

Because he was there. Across the courtyard. The man I used to dream would come back for me.

Denzel Vexley.

He didn't shout. Didn't raise his wand.

He just stood in the rain like he'd been waiting for me this whole time—like this was the ending he'd written for us.

His eyes locked on mine. And he smiled.

Not cruel. Not twisted.

Pleased.

Like he was proud of what he saw.

Rowan was suddenly at my side. I didn't even hear him move. "I'm not letting you fight him alone."

But Denzel didn't speak. Just flicked his wrist.

And Rowan dropped.

No blood. No scream.

Just collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

My scream tore from my throat before I could stop it.

I didn't remember crossing the distance.

I just knew I was there—standing across from the man who taught me how to disarm an enemy before I knew how to hold a wand. The man who put a dagger in my boot and said, "Always be ready to kill what loves you."

"You," I hissed, raising my wand. "You broke us."

Denzel didn't flinch. Didn't blink.

"You survived," he said simply, as if it were a compliment. "That was the test."

My wand flared. "Fuck your test."

And I lunged.

We didn't duel.

We fought.

Sparks flew. Stone cracked beneath our feet. Rain slashed sideways through the light of every curse we threw. My muscles screamed, my vision blurred, but I didn't stop. I couldn't.

His movements were too clean.

Too familiar.

Because he knew every spell I would cast. He taught them to me.

He wasn't trying to win.

He was trying to remind me that I was his.

"You've wasted your bloodline," he said, circling like a wolf. "You think playing family with orphans and runaways makes you less of what you are?"

"Better than being you," I spat, blocking his hex and firing one of my own—wild, fueled by rage and grief.

"You think I care that you fell in love with the wrong people? That you broke yourself trying to belong to someone else's name?" He sneered. "You should've burned her when you had the chance."

I froze.

For a half-second, the world narrowed to that single sentence.

Burn her.

Adrien.

My heart lurched. My grip tightened. "I'm not you."

He smiled like he'd been waiting to hear that. "No," he said slowly. "You're worse. Because at least I chose who I hurt."

I screamed and launched forward again.

Our magic collided midair—raw and jagged and personal. My curses shattered the stones near his feet. His hexes split the rain like it was trying to cut the world apart.

And through it all?

He kept talking.

"You think you belong with them? With her blood in your veins? You're a Vexley, Katie. My daughter. You were bred to rule magic. Not play house with the girls who should've died screaming in that goddamn Labyrinth."

"Shut. Up." My voice cracked.

But my wand didn't. I blasted him backward with everything I had—dodged the retaliating hex—and before he could recover, I was on him.

Boot raised.

Crack.

I slammed it into his throat.

He choked—staggered—collapsed to one knee.

And I stood over him, soaked and shaking, wand aimed right between his ribs.

"I'm not a Vexley," I hissed, every word a blade. "I'm a Blackwood. Always was. Always will be."

And I meant it. For the first time in my life, I truly meant it.

But that was when the world erupted behind me.

A blast of fire lit the sky from the right.

The explosion ripped through the stone beside us.

I turned too late.

Denzel rose with the smoke, snarling.

And hit me with a curse that knocked the air out of my lungs.

I crashed to the ground—back flat on cold stone, pain lancing up my ribs. My wand spun from my fingers.

And then he was above me. Wand raised. Expression calm. Like he was about to euthanize a wounded animal.

"Then die like one," he said.

And a flash of green light flared—

But it never landed.

Because Maddie's voice rang out like thunder behind him: "Not today, bitch!"

Her curse hit him full-force. He staggered, screamed, and stumbled.

Cassian and Sage burst in behind her, Rowan dragging himself upright from the other side of the field. They formed a circle around me before Denzel could cast again.

And for the first time since the night began, he faltered.

Then he ran. Vanished into smoke like a coward with a legacy crumbling around him.

I stayed where I was—flat on the stone, breath shallow, ribs aching, wandless.

And alive.

Maddie dropped to her knees beside me, dirt and rain streaking her cheeks, her hands everywhere—my arms, my face, my shoulder. "Are you okay? Katie, hey—look at me. Talk to me."

I wanted to. I just couldn't find the words yet.

Sage crouched on my other side, her voice low and frantic. "Your pupils are even. You're breathing. You're swearing under your breath—that's a good sign."

"I am?" I croaked.

She grinned through it. "Only a little."

Rowan appeared behind them, blood crusted near his temple, one arm braced around his ribs. He dropped to one knee beside my wand—lifted it gently, like it was something sacred—and pressed it into my hand.

"Don't lose that again," he muttered, voice hoarse but warm. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

I blinked at him. "You got knocked out."

"Yeah, well, you kicked your dad in the throat, so we're even."

Maddie huffed a breath that might've been a laugh, or maybe a sob. Cassian loomed behind her, wand still drawn, eyes scanning the smoke like he expected Denzel to reappear at any second.

Sage kept whispering something—reassuring, rhythmic—but my brain was starting to catch up.

My limbs hurt.

My ribs felt cracked.

My throat was raw.

But I was alive.

I let out one long, shaky breath.

And then I asked the only question that mattered.

I pushed myself upright on trembling elbows, looked at each of them—and froze.

My chest dropped out. My stomach turned cold.

"Wait," I whispered. "Where's Adrien?"

They stilled. No one answered.

And the silence that followed was louder than the last explosion.

Because none of us knew. Because somewhere out there— My sister was still fighting.

Or worse.