❝ At the trial of God, we will ask: why did you allow all this? / And the answer will be an echo: why did you allow all this? ❞ — Ilya Kaminsky, Deaf Republic

My eyes shot open at the crack of thunder. Behind the windows, fat raindrops pelted the glass like someone was pouring buckets over it. Purple bolts of lightning split the sky apart.

Visions of the night of our escape took shape behind my eyelids. I blinked them away. Something wasn't right. It wasn't the thunderstorm that woke me. A sense of dread gnawed at my stomach, and with each second I lay there in the dark, listening to the skies roaring outside, the feeling grew and grew.

Then it dawned on me with undeniable certainty. I jolted upright in bed, the gasp freezing in my lungs.

Theo.

I reached for my wand on the bedside table. It wasn't there. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, lowered them to the floor and scrambled blindly in the pitch darkness. It wasn't on the ground either.

"What the—"

My pulse began to quicken. The rain continued to pour behind me like bullets of an assault rifle. I reached for the handle of the drawer, my hand shaking as it felt around for the dagger. It wasn't there either.

I shot to my feet and ran for the door. It was locked.

"No, no, no, no." I shook the knob with all my might, but the rumble of thunder outside drowned out the sound. "Help! Someone let me out!"

I began to pound the door with my fists. Hard as I tried to be loud, my fists banging the surface were a mere tapping in contrast to the boom and howling wind.

My heart started to pound in sync with my fists on the door. "Theo, I swear to God." I rattled the knob again, uselessly. "If you went out there, I'm going to kill you."

I moved away from the door and scurried about the room in a desperate search for my wand or my dagger or anything at all at this point.

He went after Willard. I told him not to and still he did. I told him it was all a trap, but he didn't listen. He went after Willard. He went after Willard. He went—

Another bolt of lightning. The ceiling to floor windows lit up in yellow and purple light. Thunder cracked again. The fir trees in the distance were swaying madly in the gusts of howling wind.

I swallowed the lump that was starting to form on my throat and walked up to the window. It was so dark, I could hardly see a thing. Images of that night became clearer as I stretched my gaze to the bay, where the tumultuous sea crashed in white foam against the shores framing it. Polly, help! Help me!

I ignored Stella's cries, blinked back the tears, shook my head to fight the flow of memories threatening to resurface. My chest tightened as my breathing grew more staggered, every inhale more difficult than the next.

"Theo, please. Don't go after him." Despite my best efforts, my eyes watered. I couldn't stop them any more than I could stop the currents of rain outside the window. "It doesn't matter what he's shown you, it doesn't matter what he's told you. None of it is real, I promise. I promise . . . None of it."

I pressed my palms against the window. Watched the raindrops the size of monsoon on the other side of the glass. My eyes burned with hot tears. The sky split in half again. I squinted at the flash of white light.

"I know you can hear me. Please come back. Please."

I could feel him receiving my messages in the distance, wherever he was. A glimmer of hope rose in me. I held my breath, waiting. But he did not respond. The skies continued to roar, the wind slapped against the outer walls of the manor and bent the trees to rods. But no sign of him. No sound.

"Please, Theo." I collapsed to my knees, desperation spilling into every word, nonverbal as they were. "I can't let you die."

A sob tumbled past my lips.

"I can't lose you too."

▼

"Theodore . . ."

It was in the garden that I heard it. At first, I thought it had been a trick of my imagination, my name echoing off the chambers of my brain after Bertha had just stuck her head out of the door to call me and Polly inside for dinner. But then I heard it again, like the hiss of a serpent.

"I know you're out there, Theodore Ransom."

Any residue of light had left the sky, the black glow of nighttime draping over the garden like a fine veil. The air had picked up a chill and I could feel goosebumps forming under my shirt. I looked around frantically but there was nobody else outside except me and Polly. No sign of Willard. Just his voice, a whisper and an echo in my head. A threat.

"What's wrong?" Polly asked with furrowed brows.

"N-nothin'," I lied.

I threw another glance behind my shoulder. The waterfall-shaped fountain reflected the yellow crescent moon on the sky. I picked up the paintbrushes and started to dismantle the easel. Polly crossed her arms over her chest.

"Something is wrong," she said. "Tell me."

"You go on ahead. I'll catch up with you at dinner."

At first she didn't move, only regarded me with a cautious look. "You're not planning to go anywhere, are you?"

"No, 'course not," I said. That was something I didn't have to lie about. "I just . . . I need a minute. Please."

She nodded, uncrossing her arms. "Alright." She started walking back to the manor. "See you in a bit then."

I breathed out the exhale I'd been holding and let my shoulders fall. My head still buzzed from Willard's voice. This is not happening. You just imagined it. He can't get through to you.

"Or can I?"

I jumped, feeling the blood drain from my face. My heart quickened its beat.

"No." I shook my head and returned to dismantling the easel. "No. Just no."

"You know, Theodore . . . all this time, it was you I wanted to talk to. Getting through to Polly was only a stepping stone. It is you that I need."

My hands froze as I was removing the painting and the easel tumbled to the ground with a thud. Every inch of my body was shaking. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. Two droplets landed on my eyelids. One more on the back of my hand.

"Get out of my head," I muttered.

"Oh, don't think I like this any more than you do, my friend. I would much rather talk to you in person. If you come to me, we can do just that. We've got a lot to talk about."

"No," I said firmly without hesitation. The rain was beginning to pick up its pace. "I will never."

There was a brief moment of silence that gave my heart hope that he was gone, that he'd somehow, miraculously, taken no for an answer and left it at that. The naivety of that thinking reached Willard, wherever he was, and soon his laughter filled my head. Echoing like some demonic spirit off of every corner, so loud in my eardrums it sounded as if it was coming from the garden itself.

"Maybe you'd be more interested in talking," he continued once he'd stopped laughing, "if I showed you the little surprise I have for you."

Before I could ask what he meant, images began to take shape in my brain. At first I couldn't decipher them. When it hit me what he was showing me, my heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach.

Sophia.

He had Sophia. Tied up against a wall in a tiny chamber, her clothes torn and raggedy, her disheveled hair sticking to her face but not because of sweat. There was blood, trickling down her mouth, blending with the trails of tears that ran down her cheeks. Willard's devilish laughter reverberated off my head again, then Sophia's body jerked and writhed violently as tremors of invisible pain coursed through her.

I fell to the ground and screamed. The rain had grown so vehement it was soaking my clothes and the distant rumble of approaching thunder drowned out my cries. Willard continued to laugh and laugh and laugh.

"Yes," he said slowly. "I figured you wouldn't like to see that very much."

"Let her go!" I cried between gritted teeth.

"I will once you show up, Theodore."

Then he fell silent, and I stood there, on my knees on the wet grass with the rain pouring on me, panting and shaking. The image of Sophia being tortured burned behind my eyes. I shook my head, trying to calm myself.

It's just a trap, Theo. All just a trap. He doesn't really have her. He isn't really hurting her.

"Here's the thing, though," he started, catching my trail of thoughts. "Do you really believe that? Or is it just something you're telling yourself out of fear?"

I clutched the wet grass in my shaking fingers. "What the heck do you mean?"

"Oh, how easy it is," he said lazily. "To try and dismiss a threat. You think you're being smart, showing the bad guy who's boss. But deep down, is that really what you're feeling? Or is it—" Another chuckle. "Just an attempt to avoid confronting your fear? If you were to accept my words for what they are, you'd have to come after me. Try and save your sister. But is that really you?"

I tightened my grip on the blades of grass until my fingers plucked them off the soil. My body had begun to shiver from the rain penetrating my clothes.

"What the heck—" I gritted my teeth, "do you mean?"

Willard gave another bark of laughter, one that sounded genuine this time, as if he'd just heard the funniest joke.

"Oh, c'mon, Theodore. Look, my friend, I like you. Little artist guy. Praying to some muggle-invented magic man in the sky. So wholesome, all of it. But when it comes to fighting? Well, it's no secret, is it? You're chicken."

The blood drained from my face. My bottom lip trembled.

"And you know it too. Your older sister has told you all your life. Even Polly, in the short time you've known her, noticed it right away. It has always been your greatest insecurity, hasn't it?"

"Shut up!" I cried, the sound drowned out by the rain. I needed to head back but couldn't bring my feet to move.

Memories started to flow to the forefront of my brain as if pulled forward by a string. Meredith trying to teach me how to hunt. The fish I'd caught on the river flapping around on my cupped hands, until I opened them to let him slip right back into the water. My legs trembling as I shot an arrow in the direction of the Clabbert, but it landed on the trunk of the tree. Meredith coming up to finish the job I should've done.

Maybe if you spent half as much time learning how to shoot them as you do reading about them like a fucking nerd, your aim would suck a bit less.

Meredith shaking her head, the same phrase I'd heard over and over leaving her lips as we were making our way back to the house.

You don't have a fighter's spirit at all.

The images blurred and evaporated, others taking shape. The Sorting Day at Ilvermorny. The four statues of all the houses immobile around me, until Thunderbird flapped its wings, then slowly, Pukwudgie raised its arrow. The choice is yours, Mr Ransom. What is it going to be? And looking at the majestic bird of thunder, with its wings spread open, calling to me to join it in its spirit of daring, I shivered. I shrunk under its iron gaze and turned to the other statue that had chosen me. Pukwudgie.

"So weak," Willard whispered. "But hey, I get it. Not everyone is born a fighter."

The scene faded once more, only for another to become tangible. My stomach dropped at the unnerving familiarity. That day in the shed. My fist pressed against the door, blocking Polly's path, who wanted to find an excuse to slip out because I was fighting with Matt. He hovered apprehensively behind us. Fear flickering in her eyes, but even then, she held my gaze with defiance.

Are you always this reckless?, I'd spat. She saw the storm coming, but still didn't give. And it was what she said next that got to me, what made the dark power of the Crucifix around my neck burn so fiercely that it lifted my fist and almost made me strike her.

Are you always this cowardly?

Willard clicked his tongue. "Even she knew. When I got through to her, her first response was to come looking for me. Dagger in hand and everything. Just yesterday, she tried doing the same, and would've succeeded, if the psychic girl didn't stop her. But you?"

A bark of mocking laughter filled my head.

"I question Breeze McBon's judgment. How bad does she want this prophecy fulfilled, really? When you were her choice for the Final Task?"

He knew. My heart hammered behind my ribcage. He knew about the prophecy.

"Of course I do," he responded to my thought. "Why do you think I'm so intent on finding you, Theo?"

"You're never gonna get to me." The rain was pouring, and from inside the manor, I could faintly see Polly's silhouette at the dining room window. "I'm not comin' after you."

"Even fear for your sister's life isn't enough to make you risk yours, huh?" he sneered. "Oh, Breeze McBon is having a good laugh alright."

"Theodore!"

I froze. Bertha stood at the doorstep, umbrella in hand and looking at me with round eyes.

"What are you still doing out, dear?" she called over the pouring rain. "Come on in. You're soaking."

That was the last I heard of Willard, but the words didn't leave my mind any more than the images of Sophia tied up, crying and bloodied as he tortured her. Bertha helped me dry off when I got inside, Polly grew even more suspicious and kept an eye on me all throughout dinner, and even Matt caught on that something was off. But all I could think about was Willard.

Even fear for your sister's life isn't enough to make you risk yours, huh?

So weak. But hey, I get it. Not everyone is born a fighter.

And promptly, I made a decision. I excused myself from dinner, ignoring Bertha's concerns or Polly's words that it was all just a trap, and made my way upstairs. Once in my bedroom, I thrusted the heels of my hands to my eyes to stop the visions. But the image of Sophia had etched itself on my head. I knew I wouldn't be able to get a good night's sleep that night or any others to come.

Maybe Polly was right. Maybe it was a trap. Maybe this was what he wanted. Maybe I should've talked to Hatsue first and she would've shown me the truth. Maybe I was being naive and giving Willard what he wanted.

I mulled over these doubts as I tied the laces of my boots. It was past midnight. The manor was soundless. Outside, it thundered.

Storms had always scared me. When I was younger, I could hardly find rest when it was hailing outside. I would always run to mom's bed in the middle of the night, with cold sweats running down my spine. She would cuddle me into her arms and I'd let her soft breathing lull me to sleep, scare the sound of the thunderstorm away. Pop never minded having to make space for me in their bed.

But by the age of nine, mom started to shut the door in my face. Told me I had to suck it up and deal with it because I wasn't a toddler anymore. I was too afraid to admit I was still deadly afraid of lightning. If I told Meredith, she'd laugh at my face and never let me live it down. But Sophia—always the one to understand me without a word, always the one read my mind without telepathy—would drag her pillow and blankets to my room and lie down on the ground beside my bed. Only in her presence could I find rest during those nights.

What I never told her, or even admitted to myself, was that the phobia never ebbed away. Even as I got older, the rumble of thunder still gave me chills, but I learned how to sleep with them. But I avoided going outside during particularly rainy nights in Ilvermorny.

Now, as I stared at the grey sky flash purple and listened to the rain hammering against the glass, I knew what I had to do. I approached the vanity desk and looked at my pallid face in the oval mirror.

Alright, Theo. You got this.

In soundless steps, I slipped out with my wand clutched in one hand. I was about to make my way down the flight of stairs, when a thought hit me. I looked back in the direction of the bedrooms, then silently walked up to Polly's. The door was ajar, and through the crack came a dim lantern light. I pushed it open as slow as possible.

Polly lay sleeping at the very edge of the bed, crouched in a fetal position facing the window. Her wand rested on the nightstand just inches from her face. Crap. I tiptoed towards it, heart thumping with anxiety. She had developed a light sleeping pattern from our stay in the shed; at the slightest sound, her eyes snapped open and she drew her dagger in alert, so I had to be real caref—

The dagger.

I picked up the wand, keeping my gaze trained on her face for any possible twitch of her eyelids. But she slept, her shoulders rising and falling rhythmically with each soft intake of breath. Did she still keep the blade under her pillow as she used to in the shed? If that was the case, it was better to leave with just her wand and pray she didn't wake before I was out of here. But I needed to be sure.

A crack of thunder made me jump. I thrusted a hand against my mouth, feeling my heartbeat pulsating on my wrist. Polly shifted. I gripped the wand—both mine and hers—as I held my breath. She hummed in her sleep and rolled over to change position. I stood rooted to the ground with my heart racing inside my chest. When I made sure she was still asleep and not about to shift again, I released a slow breath and opened the drawer with a nonverbal 'Alohamora.'

My heart gave a leap. The dagger was there. I willed my fingers not to tremble and grabbed it, then slowly pushed the drawer closed. The rain continued to pour like it was monsoon season. I switched Polly's wand to the hand holding the dagger, then dimmed the lantern with mine.

As I walked out of her room and pulled the door shut carefully, I looked at her sleeping figure. Unaware of what had just happened. Unaware of what was about to happen.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

But just as the door clicked shut and I turned around, I nearabout let out a scream. Matt stood in front of me, his face inches from mine.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" he whisper-yelled.

"Matt-"

"I knew something was off the whole day." He glared at me behind his thick frames and it was hard not to flinch. Matt hardly lost his cool, so it was twice as intimidating on the rare occasions that he did. "So now you're going to tell me, and I'm not going anywhere until I get the answer. What the hell is up with you?"

I licked my lips, moving away from the door. "I wish I could tell you. But I just ain't got the time. I'm sorry."

Matt's frown deepened. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

But before he could get another word out, his eyes widened and his mouth formed an 'O' at the strike of realization. Then concern crossed his face.

"It's Willard, isn't it? You're going after him."

I looked down. "He has Sophia, Matt. I can't—I won't—"

He grabbed me by the shoulders, forcing me to meet his eyes. "No, he doesn't, dude. It's all a trap." He sighed. "Did you talk to Hatsue?"

"Yes," I lied.

"No, you didn't."

"Matt—"

"Theo, I'm not gonna let you go out there. Alright? No buts. You're not thinking straight."

I pushed his hands away gently. "Listen, I already thought about this. You can't stop me."

"Is that why you stole Polly's wand and dagger?"

"You think she wouldn't try to stop me as well? Or come after me?"

"Of course she would," Matt said. "As I'm doing right now."

I shook my head and turned to point my wand at the door of her bedroom, first locking it, then casting a noise-cancelling charm on it.

"Theo."

I closed my eyes, turning the wand over in my hand. "I'm sorry, Matt."

"What do you—"

"Petrificus Totalus."

Matt's brown eyes widened in the split second before the spell hit him, the glasses amplifying them to look comically larger than the other features in his face. His stunned expression froze just like that, as did the rest of his body. I quickly moved behind him to catch him before he could tip backwards and hit his head on the floor. His eyes, the only thing he could still move, burned into mine. I was glad looks couldn't kill, because if so, I'd be dead in seconds.

"What the fuck, you moron?!" he said nonverbally.

I lay his head on the carpet and gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. But I must go."

"Go? Where the hell do you think you're going?"

I got to my feet and breathed out a sigh. "See you, Matt."

He continued to call for me telepathically, his voice chasing me like a fly as I descended the stairs and grabbed my jacket on the rack by the entrance. Matt begged me to turn around, think this over, promised me we could find a solution together the next day and pleaded in a way I'd never heard him plead. I closed my eyes. My heart ached. Had I stayed a minute longer, I might've made the mistake of listening to him. But I couldn't, so I didn't.

The sky outside lit up as a bolt of lightning split it in half. Shivers ran through me. I swallowed. You got this, Theo.

I used Polly's wand to unlatch the front door, then placed it on the windowsill, but kept the dagger. I pulled the hood of my jacket up. Stepped outside. Ropes of rain hit me before I even made it past the doorstep, and I was again tempted to turn back around and run to my room, crawl into the warmth of my bed and let sleep take over me.

But Sophia's bloodied up face flickered before my eyes again. Her body writhing in the chains, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.

Even fear for your sister's life isn't enough to make you risk yours, huh?

I clenched my jaw and began to walk in the direction of the woods. The rain seeped into my clothes and crept down my face, my hands, the sides of my neck. A gust of strong wind made it difficult to walk, but I persisted despite the current. Other images began to come, involuntarily, of the night of our escape. Holding on to Matt's arm. Convinced that I would die, that there would be no God to save me, or if there was, relieving me of that pain quickly would be His greatest mercy.

But still, I survived. I beat Dragon Pox. I took charge of myself after the pull of the Dark Magic that sent my brain in a downward spiral during our stay in the shed. And if it was finally my time to die, if this was how it ended, I wouldn't hide from it anymore. I wouldn't depend on God's mercy, or other people's help.

Polly might have said something like that without a breath of hesitation, with that reckless stubbornness she had. Stupid, I'd thought of it once. Dangerous. But even when I wouldn't admit it to myself, I'd always been jealous. Because more than anything, it was the type of daring Meredith would've admired. The type she herself possessed. The type she wished I did too, but despite how much she tried to instill it in me, it never stuck.

Little artist guy. Praying to some muggle-invented magic man in the sky. So wholesome, all of it. But when it comes to fighting? Well, it's no secret, is it? You're chicken.

The wind continued to roar. I was at the end of the path leading away from the manor. Soaked head to toe, shivering, more uncertain than I'd ever been in my life. I felt the tears coming but swallowed them back.

I won't go back, I told myself. I won't go back.

Willard's voice would enter my head any moment now. He would realize I was outside the manor, within range of contact, but he'd also see more. I was coming to him. My hand shook. I strengthened my grip on the wand.

"Theo, please."

I stopped. The blood froze on my veins. Polly.

"Don't go after him."

A gust of wind whipped at my face, pushing back the hood of my jacket. The drops of hail hit me full force like pebbles and I lifted a palm to cover my eyes. My lower lip wobbled. What if . . .

I looked back at the manor. I was too far into the woods to see anything other than the roof. The crowns of the trees that bent in the howling wind and hail covered the rest of the building.

Your older sister has told you all your life.

My legs trembled, just like the day I had tried to shoot the Clabbert and missed. Another irresistible urge to run back in that direction washed over me.

You don't have a fighter's spirit at all.

Another bolt of lightning. A gasp escaped me before I could help it. The sky turned bright blue.

Even Polly, in the short time you've known her, noticed it right away. It has always been your greatest insecurity, hasn't it?

"It doesn't matter what he's shown you," Polly's voice entered my head again. "It doesn't matter what he's told you."

I couldn't hear her tone, but I could feel the despair behind it. My throat tightened.

Are you always this cowardly?

Tears pooled my eyes before I could help them and I just stood there under the rain, the wand trembling in my hand.

"None of it is real, I promise," she continued desperately, as if knowing what thought had just crossed my mind, what Willard had shown me a while ago in the garden. "I promise . . . None of it."

"No," I said to myself. With shivering hands, I wiped the tears. Another bolt of lightning struck. This time, I didn't flinch. "I'm not going back."

"I know you can hear me," Polly continued. "Please come back. Please."

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

The further into the woods I walked, the darker it grew. The wind continued to make the way forward difficult, but I pushed ahead, keeping my teeth bared and my grip tight on my wand.

"Please, Theo."

I waited for Willard to realize I was after him and reach out to me. With each step, my heart was one beat away from bursting out of my chest.

I question Breeze McBon's judgment. How bad does she want this prophecy fulfilled, really? When you were her choice for the Final Task?

Even now, my knees almost gave in. Tears threatened to spill again, simply from the panic that coursed through my veins like the next bolt of lightning that split the sky open and made me duck out of instinct.

"I can't let you die."

Polly was crying. I looked back over my shoulder. The manor was buried in the heavy clouds and dense trees that swallowed any and all traces of some horizon beyond the forest.

"I can't lose you too."

I froze in place.

We had spent so long separated. An entire lifetime of being forced to live without any memories of each other. Even when we finally met, it took awhile for her to warm up to me after the betrayal she had experienced not long before Azkaban. But I'd ruined it, though not on complete fault of my own, as the presence of the Dark Magic in the Crucifix distorted my thinking and made me lose sight of myself.

Now that we were friends again, now that I finally remembered her on my own terms and not by looking through her recollections, we were separating once more. This time, it was my doing. For all I knew, my decision could ruin everything and bring us back again to square zero—if not worse, given that this choice was deliberate. No dark force. No unknown woman messing with our memories.

But she had gone after her sister when Willard got in her head. I didn't doubt she'd do the same for me, if I was taken. If her door was open right now and she had her wand and dagger with her, she'd come after me. But could I say that I'd do the same? Would I have that courage?

So weak. But hey, I get it. Not everyone's born a fighter.

I held my breath and closed my eyes. With my heart almost jumping out of my throat, I tried what I'd been meaning to do all along. Even though the idea terrified me more than anything.

"I'm ready to meet you."

Rain currents pelted my soaked clothes that hung like dead weight off my body. My hands had gone numb from the cold and I didn't feel my fingers as I tightened the hold on my wand. In the pouring hail and harsh wind, I didn't hear him when he arrived. But I knew with unflinching certainty.

The hairs at the back of my neck stood on end. I wanted to turn around and run. Every instinct in me told me to do so—flight because I couldn't fight, I wasn't built for it, I'd never been a fighter.

I would fight now.

"Well, well, well."

His adenoidal voice. Laced with amusement, frosty like icicles piercing my eardrums. And then came the chuckle—that darned chuckle. I bit my bottom lip to keep it from wobbling.

"Looks like I underestimated you, Theodore. I mean, goddamn."

He laughed again, as if this was peak entertainment for him. I turned around slowly. The rain dripped off his cloak and off the locks of black hair that curled around his defined cheekbones. His thin lips were twisted into an ominous smirk. His piercing green eyes held a spark of something that made me frown. Greed. But for what?

Willard took a slow step toward me. A shudder ran up my spine. I kept my feet rooted to the spot when the instinct to back off almost took over them.

So weak.

Not this time, I thought. Not anymore.

I tilted my chin up, willing myself to hold Willard's steady gaze, no matter how much I wanted to look away. "Where is my sister?"

Another laugh left his lips, almost silent under the drowning rain.

"Oh, Theodore." He ran a hand through his wet locks, now face to face with me. If I took one more step, our noses would touch. "You are so predictable, and yet, so full of surprises."

"Show me where." I raised my wand. "Or you die."

The left corner of his mouth twisted up. He lifted a hand to seize my arm. I pointed the tip of the wand under his chin, trying to steady my trembling hand. His smirk grew.

"As you wish."

He snapped his fingers, and before I could even think to cast a spell, the sight of the woods began to blur. The rain stopped. We were gone.

◈

THE END