The Daughter of Valancaire

JESSA'S POV

My heart pounded as I stepped into the dimly lit Slytherin dungeons, the weight of what we were about to do pressing heavy on my shoulders. The air was thick with moisture, the cold stone walls enclosing us in an eerie silence. Even Sebastian, despite his usual reckless enthusiasm, looked tense. Ominis, however, was on edge in a way I had never seen before.

His hand clenched tightly around his wand as he led us to a shadowed alcove. “It’s here,” he murmured, voice taut with unease. He gestured toward the three unlit braziers lined before an ominous-looking door. “We need to light them simultaneously.”

Sebastian gave a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “Three heads are better than one.”

“It’s two heads are better than one,” Ominis shot back, unimpressed.

Sebastian waved a hand. “Well, by that logic, three is better than two. Simple mathematics, Ominis.”

Ominis sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “I cannot believe I’m about to break into the Gaunt family’s deepest secret with you.”

A small smile tugged at my lips, despite the tension. “Alright, on three,” I said, raising my wand.

We nodded in unison, stepping toward the braziers. The flickering torches on the walls barely illuminated the intricate snake carvings along the door’s surface, their stone eyes gleaming with malice.

“One…” I began, voice steady.

“Two…” Ominis joined in, his grip on his wand firm.

“Three.”

At once, three jets of fire erupted from our wands, striking the braziers. The flames roared to life, their glow casting ominous shadows across the stone chamber. For a moment, nothing happened—then, a low, guttural groan rumbled through the walls as the ancient door creaked open before us.

The air beyond was colder. Darker.

Sebastian exhaled in triumph. “Well, that wasn’t so bad.”

Ominis, however, stiffened at the threshold. His face was pale, lips pressed into a thin line. I gently touched his arm. “Ominis?”

He swallowed, voice barely above a whisper. “Once we step inside, we’re in Salazar Slytherin’s domain. There’s no turning back.”

A shiver ran down my spine, but I nodded. “Then let’s make sure we step carefully.”

Sebastian grinned, stepping forward with unwavering determination. “No risk, no reward, right?”

Ominis and I exchanged glances. And then, together, we crossed the threshold into the Scriptorium.

_____

The heavy door slammed shut behind us with a resounding boom, echoing through the darkened chamber.

Ominis flinched. “The bloody door closed,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tight with frustration. “What now?”

“Calm down,” I reassured him, placing a hand on his arm. “Let’s explore. There has to be another way forward.”

I raised my wand, murmuring, “Lumos.” A soft glow illuminated the darkness, and soon, Sebastian and Ominis followed suit, casting their own lights. The dim chamber stretched ahead of us, lined with ancient stone walls. A few torches stood in brackets along the corridor.

Sebastian, ever the one to make light of ominous situations, smirked. “Dark, ominous corridors? I like it.”

Ominis huffed. “No comment.”

I walked ahead, my fingers brushing against the rough stone. That’s when I noticed something—an old, broken relief embedded into the wall, barely visible beneath the dust and decay. My mind instantly prompted me to act. I raised my wand and cast, “Reparo.”

The stone shimmered and mended itself, revealing intricate engravings of serpents coiling around each other.

And then… nothing.

I frowned. “Strange… I thought that would do something.”

I turned to Ominis and immediately noticed the change in his expression. His usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced with unease. His fingers gripped his wand tighter, his lips slightly parted as if listening to something only he could hear.

“Ominis?” I asked, concern seeping into my voice. “Is something the matter?”

He hesitated, his pale brows furrowing. “…Since you fixed that relief, I’ve been hearing noises.”

Sebastian and I exchanged a glance.

“What noises?” Sebastian asked.

Ominis turned his head slightly, as if trying to catch the sound better. Then, he closed his eyes, his shoulders tensing. “I… Snake noises.”

A chill ran down my spine. “Ominis… you’re a Parselmouth?”

He sighed, running a hand through his blond hair. “Unfortunately, yes. I am one of the few from the Gaunt bloodline to inherit it.”

Sebastian’s expression flickered between awe and excitement. “That’s amazing, mate! So what are they saying?”

Ominis frowned. “The hissing is forming words… a phrase I need to speak to open the door.”

He hesitated, his grip on his wand tightening.

“It’s alright,” I reassured him softly. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He let out a slow breath before shaking his head. “No. We came here for answers.”

With a final inhale, he turned toward the door, his mouth parting slightly before an eerie, guttural hissing sound filled the air.

“Ssseek the truth within… prove your worth, child of Ssslytherin…”

The door rumbled, the carved serpents slithering as if they were alive. Then, with a heavy creak, it began to open.

Sebastian grinned. “That was bloody brilliant, Ominis!”

Ominis exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

I smiled. “Truly impressive.”

Sebastian crossed his arms, giving me a dramatic sigh. “Between the two of you, I’m feeling a little bit left out.”

Ominis raised a skeptical brow. “Between the two of us?”

Sebastian immediately stiffened. “I— Never mind.” He cleared his throat and quickly strode forward, leaving me and Ominis exchanging an amused look.

Shaking my head, I turned back to Ominis. “Let’s go before he does something reckless.”

Ominis sighed. “That’s inevitable, Jessa.”

With a small chuckle, we stepped inside. The Scriptorium awaited us.
___

Stepping into the Scriptorium felt like stepping into the very veins of Salazar Slytherin himself. The air was thick, laced with the scent of damp stone and something older, something ancient. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves filled with decayed tomes, their spines cracked and worn by centuries of neglect. Dark green torches flickered with eerie, unnatural flames, casting twisted shadows that danced across the stone-carved serpentine motifs that slithered up the walls.

The chamber was grand but oppressive, as if the very weight of history threatened to crush us.

Sebastian whistled low. “This place is something else.”

Ominis, however, was rigid beside me, gripping his wand like a lifeline. “I don’t like this. The air… it feels wrong.”

As we stepped further inside, we found the first challenge: three enormous stone dials, each covered in faded engravings of snakes intertwined with letters in ancient runes.

Sebastian moved closer, running his fingers along the stone. “It’s a puzzle.”

Ominis swallowed. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

I examined the dials carefully. There were inscriptions near the base, barely legible. “These must correspond to something,” I murmured, looking around the room.

That’s when I spotted the tattered pages scattered across the floor—journal entries. I picked one up, the ink smudged but still readable.

Noctua Gaunt’s Journal

“Salazar Slytherin buried this scriptorium deep within Hogwarts. I'm afraid I shall lose my way around these dark corridors. I am a descendant and yet I feel unwelcome.

Lighting these braziers in the corridor is helping.

I shan't lose heart. Challenge by challenge, I will make my way through.
Noctua Gaunt”

Ominis stiffened. “No…” he whispered.

Sebastian grabbed another page. “This one says—He squinted. “I failed the dial, and it struck my face as if it were a real serpent. But I must find a way forward for my family's sake.

We should not require children to conform to old traditions. This scriptorium must have proof that there's more to our legacy than meets the eye.

Noctua Gaunt”

A chill ran down my spine. “She never made it out…”

Sebastian frowned. “Then let’s make sure we do.”

We examined the room and, using Noctua’s notes, managed to decipher the correct sequence for the dials—each one representing a key aspect of Slytherin: Ambition, Legacy, and Power. As we turned the final dial into place, a click echoed through the chamber, and the floor beneath us rumbled.

A door at the end of the room creaked open.

Sebastian grinned. “Look at that. I knew we’d figure it out.”

But Ominis wasn’t smiling. He looked sick.

“We shouldn’t be here,” he murmured.

I grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. “We’re in this together. We’ll be alright.”

Or so I thought.

We stepped into the last chamber, and immediately, I wished we hadn’t.

The heavy door slammed shut behind us with a dreadful finality. The room was small, suffocating. The air was thick with decay.

And there—lying in the center of the room—was a pile of bones.

A final, tattered journal lay beside them.

I reached down with trembling fingers, flipping it open. The ink was faded, but the words still burned.

Noctua Gaunt’s Final Entry

“I've lost hope. I'm locked in. I heard a scream and saw the tortured faces. The only way forward is with an Unforgivable Curse. Even if I wanted to cast it, I have no one upon whom to do so. Salazar Slytherin created a malicious challenge indeed.

In my last correspondence to my brother, I'd invited him here. Now, if he looks for me alone, I'll have led him to his death. Despite our differences, I wish him no ill. I wish we had parted on better terms.”

Noctua Gaunt

A shudder ran through my body.

Ominis inhaled sharply, stumbling back. His face was pale, his lips trembling.

“I knew it,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I knew it.” His breath hitched, panic gripping him. “This is where we die.” His hands clenched into fists. “I should not have listened to the both of you! I —”

Sebastian was by his side in an instant, gripping his shoulders. “Ominis, breathe. We’re not going to die.”

“We’re trapped,” Ominis spat. “She died here! How do you not see that?!”

Sebastian turned to me, eyes desperate. “Jessa, tell me you have an idea.”

I did.

I turned to the massive door blocking our way out. Twisted faces were carved into the stone, their mouths contorted in expressions of agony. The walls near them were marked with a single word.

Crucio.

My stomach dropped.

“This is why your aunt wasn’t able to escape,” I murmured. “She was alone. She needed to cast Crucio on someone to open the door.”

A vision slammed into me.

—Sebastian screaming at me in the Undercroft.

—His voice breaking as he said I had fooled him and Anne.

—Ominis stepping between us before another Crucio could land.

—The pain. The unbearable pain.

No. No.

How could I change this?

“How do we open it?” Sebastian asked.

I hesitated. “We… someone has to be cursed.”

Ominis reeled back. “Absolutely not.”

Sebastian clenched his jaw. “If that’s the only way out…”

Ominis rounded on him. “You can’t be serious—”

“I know how to cast Crucio,” Sebastian interrupted. His voice was quiet but steady. “I can teach you, and you can cast it on me.”

“What? No!” Ominis looked horrified. “You don’t know what Crucio does to a person!”

Sebastian’s eyes darkened. “I do.”

They were spiraling. The argument was growing. The fear. The tension. The panic.

And then I said it.

“I don’t want to learn Crucio.”

Sebastian exhaled harshly. “Then we’re going to be trapped here forever.”

I closed my eyes. I knew what had to be done.

“…Then cast it on me.”

Sebastian stiffened. “What?”

I turned to face him fully. “You heard me.”

“Jessa,” he said slowly, voice shaking, “have you lost your mind? No. Absolutely not.”

“We have no choice.”

Ominis was shaking his head, his entire body tense. “Jessa, please—”

I looked Sebastian in the eye. “Cast it on me. But you will owe me one favor.”

His expression twisted, and for a moment, I thought he would refuse.

“…I—” He swallowed. “Damn it. Jessa, are you sure?”

I met his gaze with unwavering resolve. “Yes.”

Sebastian clenched his fists, then exhaled sharply. He took a step back, raising his wand. His hands trembled.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes.”

He hesitated. Then—

“Crucio!”

Agony.

It was unlike anything I had ever known.

White-hot fire tore through my veins, searing my bones. Every nerve in my body screamed. It was unbearable—an endless, pulsing current of pain that shattered every thought, every breath, every piece of me.

I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t. My throat locked, and my vision blurred with tears.

It felt like forever.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

I collapsed to my knees, gasping, my body still trembling from the aftershocks.

“Jessa!” Ominis was by my side in an instant, his hands gripping my arms. “Are you—? Can you—?” His voice wavered. “Merlin, are you alright?”

The door groaned open.

Sebastian stood frozen, staring at me with wide, horrified eyes. His wand hung limply at his side.

I forced myself to breathe, my hands still shaking.

“I’m okay,” I rasped.

Sebastian didn’t move.

And then, as I looked at him, I knew.

He had seen it.

He had seen the same expression in my eyes that he had seen in the hospital wing.

_____

I asked for my satchel, my fingers trembling as I dug through it, searching for the Wiggenweld potion. My body still ached, the phantom pain of Crucio lingering in my bones like an echo that refused to fade.

“Jessa, I—are you sure you’re okay?” Sebastian’s voice was hoarse, uncertain.

“I can walk,” I muttered, though the unsteadiness in my steps made both of them instinctively move to support me. Without thinking, I flinched away from their touch, retreating into myself.

They noticed.

Neither said anything.

I uncorked the potion and drank deeply, feeling the warmth spread through me, numbing the sharpest edges of the pain. Still, there was a silence—thick, heavy, suffocating.

“Let’s go,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

Both of them fell into step beside me, but something had shifted. We walked deeper into the chamber, coming upon what could only be described as Salazar Slytherin’s private study.

It was grand, yet sinister. The walls were lined with dark green tapestries, woven with serpentine patterns that slithered and twisted in the flickering torchlight. Dust-coated bookshelves loomed high, containing volumes that had likely not been touched for centuries. A massive stone desk, carved with intricate runes, sat at the center of the room. And there, sitting atop it, was a book.

A spell book.

Salazar Slytherin’s Spellbook.

My breath hitched. I turned quickly to the others. “Sebastian.”

He looked up, and for the first time since leaving the previous chamber, his expression lit up.

“There it is!” he breathed, stepping forward with something akin to reverence. He reached out, hands hovering over the aged leather cover, momentarily forgetting everything else—the pain, the weight of what we had done, the darkness we had just uncovered.

Ominis, however, remained tense. “We need to find an exit.”

“Wait,” I said softly, placing a hand on his arm. “Ominis, your aunt Noctua… we shouldn’t leave her here.”

Both boys stiffened.

Ominis inhaled sharply. “I—what do you suggest?”

I hesitated, then spoke gently. “Let’s move her. Don’t you want her to have a proper burial? The Gaunt tomb, perhaps?”

Ominis’ face twisted with conflict. “No… We already have a grave for her, even without her remains.” His voice faltered before he added, “But she… she loved the poppy field near the Forbidden Forest.”

Sebastian and I exchanged glances before I nodded. “Then let’s take her there.”

Sebastian carefully gathered the remains, wrapping them in a cloak before we searched for a way out. Eventually, we found a passage that led to the surface, stepping out into the cool night air.

Ominis turned sharply toward Sebastian. “You used dark magic,” he said, his voice laced with both frustration and pain. “Promise me—promise me—we will not delve into it again.”

Sebastian clenched his jaw. “Ominis, I—”

“You… we hurt Jessa,” Ominis continued, his voice shaking. “I felt it.”

Sebastian turned to me then, searching my face, but I still couldn’t quite bring myself to meet his eyes.

“…I promise,” he murmured.

The moment felt final, yet I knew it wouldn’t be.

I took a breath and broke the silence. “Sebastian, remember—you owe me a favor.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “…What do you want?”

“The spellbook,” I said, my voice unwavering. “Once you’ve read it, give it to me.”

Sebastian’s expression darkened instantly. “What?! No way, Jessa! That’s not fair—”

Ominis spun toward me in disbelief. “Jessa, you can’t be serious.”

“You promised,” I reminded him, my voice quiet, but firm.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, shoulders slumping in resignation. “…Fine.”

I gave him a nod, trying not to let the weight of what we’d just done linger. “Let’s go bury Noctua.”

____

The three of us took the Floo network to a location near the Forbidden Forest, close to where Ominis had described the poppy field. The field stretched before us, the flowers swaying gently under the silver glow of the moon. It was peaceful—eerily so, compared to the suffocating darkness of the Scriptorium.

Sebastian and Ominis dug a grave together, neither of them speaking. I helped as much as my sore limbs allowed, and when it was deep enough, we gently laid Noctua’s remains to rest.

Ominis stood before the grave, his wand shaking slightly as he took a breath.

“I… she was the only one who truly cared for me,” he murmured. “she was kind to me. She wanted… something better for me. For all of us.” His lips pressed together tightly. “She deserved better than what she got.”

Sebastian placed a hand on his shoulder, offering silent support.

I knelt beside the grave, whispering a quiet incantation as I pressed my hand into the soil. A soft glow pulsed beneath my palm, and within seconds, the poppies began to bloom more vibrantly, curling protectively over the burial site.

Ominis let out a shaky breath. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Sebastian, however, remained silent. I felt his eyes on me, watching.

I turned to him. “Are you okay?”

He hesitated before nodding. “Are you?”

I forced a small smile. “Of course. Just… tired.”

It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the truth either.

I exhaled and stepped back. “I need to go. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Before they could question me further, I turned toward the Floo network and then stepping into the fireplace of the room I always used.

My destination whispered from my lips before I could hesitate.

“Valancaire Keep.”

____

The moment I stepped into the Keep, I was greeted again not with a welcome, but with a barrage of attacks—a mix of fireballs, piercing shards of ice, and sharp, precise hexes aimed directly at my weak spots.

I barely had time to raise my wand.

I twisted, dodging a blast of blue fire that singed the hem of my robes, only to be forced into a backflip to avoid a jagged spear of ice that shattered against the stone wall behind me. I cast Protego on instinct, but the force of an incoming Blasting Curse knocked me off my feet, sending me skidding across the floor.

I grit my teeth, bracing myself to stand, but the moment I moved—pain— a sharp, searing pain ignited through my body.

It was the remnants of Crucio—the curse I had so stupidly taken willingly. My limbs felt as if they had been set ablaze, my nerves still screaming from the residual magic. I stumbled, my vision swimming.

And then—

A sharp crack of stone.

A broken pillar— crumbling— falling—

I tried to react, but my legs wouldn’t move fast enough.

I clenched my jaw, forcing my body to dodge, but the weight of the pain slowed me, dragging me down. My heart pounded wildly in my chest. Move. MOVE.

The moment before impact, the debris froze midair—suspended by an invisible force.

A low, dangerous voice echoed through the Keep.

“What is that?”

The stone was flung aside with a flick of my grandfather’s wrist, his sharp silver eyes pinned on me. Cold. Unforgiving. Scathing.

“You cannot tell me you couldn’t dodge that.”

His voice was calm—far too calm, and that was worse than if he had yelled.

I tried to steady my breath, to push myself upright, but my lungs burned, my body refusing to listen. The pain coiled deep in my bones like a poison I couldn’t escape.

And then— he stiffened.

His gaze sharpened. I felt the shift in magic, like a ripple through the air, and suddenly his hand clamped down onto my wrist.

His touch sent a jolt through my core, not from force but from magic—like he was reading something within me.

Then—

Dark magic.

His voice, usually so composed, shook with fury.

“Dark magic… I can feel it in your core! HAVE YOU BEEN HIT BY ONE?”

I tried to look away, tried to pull my wrist from his grip, but his hold tightened.

“Jessa,” his voice was razor-sharp, commanding. “What was it?!”

I swallowed hard. I shouldn’t have told him.

But my exhaustion betrayed me.

“…Crucio.”

The word barely left my lips when my grandfather exploded.

“WHAT?!” His magic surged, crackling around him like a violent storm. “A Valancaire was cast upon? Blasphemy!”

I clenched my fists. “It doesn’t matter, Grandfather! It was my choice—it was the only means available to an end!”

The room shook with the force of his presence, and his expression twisted with something between rage and disbelief.

“Your choice?” His voice dropped, quiet but more dangerous than when he had shouted. “Then you are a fool.”

“I am not,” I spat back, my frustration rising. “I did what had to be done!”

His blue eyes, my eyes.. burned into mine, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Then—

Darkness.

My vision wavered—blurred—

I swayed where I stood, my body finally giving out—

In an instant, my grandfather moved.

Before I could hit the ground, he caught me.

There was no softness in his hold, only purpose. He didn’t say a word as he lifted me effortlessly and strode toward the inner Keep.

I wanted to protest.

I wanted to tell him I could stand on my own.

But I couldn’t breathe.

The Healing and the Warning

I barely registered being placed onto a fainting couch within his private study before a vial was pressed to my lips.

I tried to move away, but his commanding voice left no room for refusal.

“Drink.”

I parted my lips, and a cool, bitter liquid slid down my throat.

Instantly, warmth flooded my body, numbing the sharp edges of pain. My breath became easier, the pressure in my chest lifting. But it wasn’t just a potion—it was a spell woven into it.

A second later, I felt another flick of magic pass over me—a diagnostic spell, no doubt.

I forced my eyes open, watching as my grandfather’s gaze swept over me, calculating, as if determining whether to scold me further or allow me a moment of reprieve.

Then, with a heavy sigh, he finally spoke.

“Go back.”

I stiffened. “What?”

“You cannot train like this. Leave.”

I clenched my fists. “I can.”

“Jessa—”

“I can’t afford to slow down!”

The words burst from me before I could stop them, and for a moment, we simply stared at each other.

A long silence stretched between us. Then—

My grandfather sighed, rubbing his temple.

“…Fine.”

He stood, striding toward the center of the training chamber, where the etched runes on the floor flickered to life.

“You will not leave until you can call upon your magic at will.”

I swallowed hard, the residual pain still curling at the edges of my nerves. This would not be easy.

But I nodded.

“I’m ready.”

___

I positioned myself at the center of the runes, inhaling deeply as I focused inward.

Ancient Magic is different from wanded spells—it isn’t something you simply cast; it’s something you summon. It requires pure will, instinct, and most importantly—control.

And right now, my control was slipping.

“Feel it.” My grandfather’s voice was steady, authoritative. “Let it flow through you.”

I reached for it—felt the hum of energy deep within me—but the moment I tried to pull it forth, a sharp pain shot through my body.

I gritted my teeth, refusing to falter.

“No,” my grandfather’s voice cut in sharply. “You’re fighting against it. You must channel it. ”

I exhaled sharply, shaking off the pain and tried again.

This time, I let go—instead of forcing the magic, I let it rise naturally.

A pulse of blue energy flickered around me, small but steady.

My grandfather’s eyes gleamed.

“Again.”

We trained for hours, my body aching with every movement, but I pushed through.

The curse still lingered—but I didn’t show it.

I would not show it.

This was only the beginning.

And I could not afford to fall behind.

_____

The training stretched until dawn, a relentless cycle of magic, exhaustion, and forceful control.

Each time I called upon my Ancient Magic, I felt the searing weight of it pushing back, testing me, forcing me to shape it rather than let it consume me.

I focused on the flow, letting it rise from my core, feeling it surge through my fingertips. It crackled, flickering between control and chaos, sometimes forming a powerful burst of energy, other times vanishing the moment I reached for it.

Every failure was met with my grandfather’s unwavering expectations.

“Again.”

And again, I forced myself to focus, ignoring the sharp ache in my body, the lingering burn of Crucio, the exhaustion threatening to drag me under.

The sky outside the Keep began to shift from black to deep purple, and with each passing moment, I improved.

Slowly, my Ancient Magic became sharper, more precise.

I could now summon it without it flickering out, though my control was still inconsistent.

But it was progress.

At last, when the first hints of morning light stretched across the horizon, my grandfather stepped forward, watching as I managed to hold a steady pulse of power in my palm.

He gave a slight nod.

“You are improving. But you’re still too emotional. That will be your downfall.”

I swallowed, biting back the retort that nearly escaped me.

Then, his expression hardened.

“Now. About the one who cast Crucio on you.”

I tensed.

“You’re still determined to find out?” I asked, my voice deliberately neutral.

My grandfather scoffed, as if the answer was obvious.

“You truly believe I won’t? It is an insult that you even attempted to hide it from me.”

My grip on my wand tightened.

“It was my choice, Grandfather.”

His eyes gleamed—cold, calculating.

“And yet, you still protect the one who cast it.”

I stayed silent.

His magic shifted, filling the room with an undeniable pressure.

“I will know who it was, whether you tell me or not.” His tone was final, uncompromising.

I clenched my jaw but didn’t argue.

There was no point.

Even if I denied him, I knew my grandfather wouldn’t rest until he found the answer himself.

“Take these.”

A small collection of vials appeared in his hand—restorative potions, strengthening tonics, and something else I couldn’t identify.

I took them without question.

“Now leave. You are barely standing.”

I nodded, exhaustion finally catching up to me, and grabbed the Floo Powder, murmuring my destination.

_____

The familiar sensation of being pulled through space made my stomach churn as I tumbled back into Hogwarts, landing in the secluded classroom where I had cast my previous Floo journey.

The moment my feet hit the ground, my legs nearly buckled.

I was shaking.

The curse was still affecting me—it clung to my body like shackles, making my limbs heavy, my magic slower to respond.

I pushed forward, barely aware of my surroundings, my body moving on instinct as I made my way to Ravenclaw Tower.

By the time I entered my dormitory, the sun had fully risen.

And there, standing near my bed, was Samantha—already fully dressed and preparing for the day.

She turned, her face lighting up with relief—then immediately twisting into concern.

“Where have you been?!” she demanded, rushing toward me.

I opened my mouth to respond, but—

The exhaustion, the training, the weight of my memories, the pain of the curse still embedded in my body—everything crashed down at once.

I barely had time to react before the world tilted, my body giving out beneath me.

“Jessa?—Jessa!”

Samantha’s panicked voice was the last thing I heard before everything faded to black.