The Daughter of Valancaire

Jessa’s POV

The Ruined Glen

The magic pressed in, thick and suffocating.

Then—a voice.

Sharp, ringing like a blade through the mist.

A woman’s voice.

A voice I had not heard in years, yet knew instantly.

“DAUGHTER OF VALANCAIRE, WHY ARE YOU HERE?”

My breath caught in my throat.

No.

It couldn’t be.

Sebastian and Ominis snapped toward me, wands raised, their bodies going rigid as the air itself trembled.

The sound had not come from any direction.

It had come from everywhere.

Her voice.

The voice that had lingered in my memories. The voice that had whispered in dreams I could never remember upon waking—

The voice of the woman with blue eyes.

Ominis shuddered, taking a step closer to me. “Who—”

“Who is that?” Sebastian demanded, his grip on his wand tightening.

But I couldn’t speak.

Because I knew.

I knew that voice.

Even though I shouldn’t.

The mist around us shifted, curling, breathing.

And then, through the tangled branches ahead, a shape emerged.

Tall. Ethereal. Wrapped in the very essence of the Glen itself, her form shifting like something half-real, half-memory.

Then—her eyes.

Blue.

Just like mine.

Just like the woman in my fragmented memories.

My fingers tightened around my wand.

“Who are you?” I whispered.

She took a step closer—her presence rippling through the Glen like a wave of unseen force.

Then, with terrifying certainty, she spoke again.

“You should not have come.”

The woman’s blue eyes locked onto mine, piercing through the mist, through the very magic of the Glen itself.

Her form wavered, shifting between real and unreal, as though she were something not meant to exist fully in this world.

And then—

“Not yet.”

Her voice was a whisper and a command all at once.

“It is not yet time, Daughter.”

Then—she vanished.

The mist rushed forward.

The Glen moved.

A soundless scream filled the air—**or maybe it was the magic itself, twisting, bending—**and the very ground beneath my feet lurched.

“NO—!”

The world collapsed inward.

Roots shot up like serpents, twisting, binding, coiling—the land swallowed me whole.

“Sebastian! Ominis!”

I reached out—but my fingers grasped nothing.

“I CAN’T FIND THEM!”

I spun wildly, my breath ragged, panic clawing at my chest.

No answer.

No one.

The mist thickened, turning into something more than fog—something alive, something watching.

I was alone.

The Glen had separated us.

Sebastian’s POV

“JESSA!”

She was there—right there.

And then the Glen took her.

Swallowed her whole.

“Bloody hell—JESSA!”

I ran. Didn’t think—just ran.

The mist coiled, thick and alive, pulling her away. The very ground beneath my feet **shifted, twisted—**as if the Glen itself was moving her further from us.

Ominis was right beside me, his wand slicing through the thick, suffocating fog, but I could **feel it—**we were being blocked.

“Ominis, the tethering charm—” I gasped, my breath coming too fast, too uneven.

I reached for the enchantment, for the pull that was supposed to drag us to her, but—nothing.

Cold panic slammed into my ribs.

It wasn’t working.

Ominis cursed. “It’s been severed.” His voice was tight, strained, like he was barely keeping himself composed. “The Glen cut it.”

“NO—” My grip on my wand tightened until my knuckles went white. “That’s not—she was RIGHT HERE!”

I didn’t wait. I threw out my wand.

“Confringo!”

A burst of fire **erupted forward—**but the mist smothered it instantly, swallowing it whole like it had never existed.

I let out a ragged breath, my pulse thundering.

The Glen had taken her.

And we had no way of reaching her.

Ominis’ fingers curled around his wand so tightly I thought it might snap. “We need to move.”

I shook my head violently. “Not without her.”

Ominis inhaled sharply. “Then we figure out where the Glen has taken her.”

I turned toward him, my hands shaking. “And what if we’re already too late?”

A silence.

Heavy. Final.

Then, Ominis lifted his head, his voice low and unshakable.

“We need to calm down, Sebastian.”

Ominis’ voice was even, steady—too steady. But I knew him. I knew him too well. He was just as panicked as I was.

I clenched my jaw, forcing my breath through my nose, my grip tightening around my wand.

Calm down.

Calm down.

I didn’t want to. I wanted to run, to scream, to tear through this damned place until I found her.

But I forced myself still.

And then—I remembered.

Anne’s voice, from years ago, when my emotions had always ruled me, when my frustration had been a fire that burned too hot.

“If you calm down, Sebastian, you’ll see more than just what’s in front of you.”

My hands curled into fists before I exhaled.

Ominis was already moving, his fingers tight around his wand, the tip glowing faintly with an enchantment I didn’t recognize.

“Your blindness,” I murmured, my voice rough, still hoarse from yelling. “It’s an advantage here.”

Ominis nodded, sharp and precise. “This place is trying to mislead us. But I don’t see the way you do.”

His head tilted slightly as he took a careful step forward, his wand pulsing, sensing—listening in ways I couldn’t.

I followed, my pulse still hammering, my thoughts still screaming at me to run, to move faster, to tear through the Glen if I had to—

But I didn’t.

We walked carefully, ensuring we didn’t lose each other. The mist curled and shifted, the trees groaning like old bones, the very ground beneath us shifting with something unnatural.

My mind swirled with possibilities—all the dangers Jessa could be in.

Was she trapped?

Hurt?

Was she alone? Was she scared?

I couldn’t handle it.

I couldn’t handle it.

The Glen had taken her.

And if I didn’t find her, if I didn’t get to her in time—

I stopped walking, gripping my wand so tightly my nails dug into my palm.

I can’t.

I can’t handle this.

Ominis’ POV

I did my best to stay calm.

I couldn’t be another fire burning. Not when Sebastian was already losing himself to panic.

I needed to be the steady one.

Even though—Gods help me—I wanted to scream.

I wanted to tear this whole damned Glen apart until I found her.

But I couldn’t afford to break. Not here. Not when Jessa needed us.

I took a slow breath, fingers tightening around my wand. I had an advantage here.

My blindness.

It let me navigate this hell.

Sebastian could see the mist, the trees, the shifting shadows. But I could feel beyond that. The Glen pulsed beneath my feet, the magic shifting, twisting, breathing. It was trying to trick us, to mislead us, but I wasn’t bound by sight.

I turned my head, listening—not with my ears, but with my magic.

The Glen was alive.

Something was moving. Not just the mist. Not just the trees.

Something else.

I could feel the way the ground **swelled in some places, hollowed in others—**like the land itself was changing beneath our feet.

“There’s a path,” I muttered, stepping forward carefully.

Sebastian, still restless, still on the edge of losing control, barely hesitated before following.

“You’re sure?” His voice was rough, desperate.

I nodded. “Yes. But it’s not just a path—it’s choosing one for us.”

Sebastian let out a sharp breath. “Fantastic. So we’re just playing along with whatever this cursed forest wants?”

“No,” I said firmly. “We’re playing smarter.”

I paused, tilting my head as the air shifted.

Sebastian stepped closer, his presence a solid, burning force beside me. “What is it?”

I swallowed. “The Glen is moving us in circles.”

Sebastian cursed under his breath. “Then how the hell do we find her?”

I exhaled. “We stop letting it decide.”

I pressed my hand to the ground, my wand humming with magic, sending out slow, controlled pulses.

And then—I felt something.

A break.

A rupture in the energy, an unnatural shift—like something had been taken.

Like someone had been taken.

Sebastian tensed beside me. “Ominis?”

I inhaled sharply, fingers tightening around my wand.

“I found where they took her.”

Jessa’s POV

It was dark.

Not just the absence of light—but something deeper.

Something hungry.

I could see nothing. Not my hands. Not the ground beneath me. Not even the mist that had swallowed me whole.

My breath came too fast, too uneven. I am scared.

For the first time in years, I was truly terrified.

Then—a whisper.

Not from around me. From within.

“Be brilliant.”

“Do not follow your heart.”

My grandfather’s voice rang in my head, steady and sharp. A command. A warning.

I forced down the fear.

They are fine.

Sebastian. Ominis.

They are strong.

I have to survive.

I have to see them again.

I reached for my wand, my fingers shaking. “Lumos.”

Nothing.

I cast again.

Nothing.

No light.

Just darkness.

A tight, clawing panic curled in my chest. I forced myself to take a slow, even breath.

Calm. I need to stay calm.

Then—

A voice.

Soft. Fragile.

”…Sister…?”

I froze.

The air shifted.

The voice was followed by another.

And another.

“Daughter of Valancaire.”

“You came too late.”

“Too late. Too late. Too late.”

The whispers multiplied, overlapping.

I turned, heart hammering, my hands clammy around my wand.

The darkness moved.

I was not alone.

“We never left.”

“We were never given the chance.”

“You are the one who lived.”

A chill raced down my spine.

The voices—they were all female.

Soft. Young.

Some whispered like infants crying. Others spoke like children.

And then—one voice cut through the rest.

“You stole what was meant to be ours.”

I staggered back. “Who are you?”

The shadows breathed.

“We were supposed to be you.”

A shuddering realization crawled beneath my skin, into my bones.

The daughters.

The Valancaire daughters who never lived.

Stillborn. Lost before they could take their first breath.

They had never left this place.

Their voices tightened around me, swirling, pressing against my ribs like an unseen weight.

“You were the one who survived.”

“We were supposed to be you.”

“Why did you get to live?”

I felt it then.

The Glen was not just speaking to me.

It was judging me.

The voices came closer, too close, pressing against my skin, curling around my ears.

“Why did you get to live?”

“WHY DID YOU GET TO LIVE?”

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t see.

I was drowning in the dark.

And then—

A hand grabbed my wrist.

Tight. Unyielding.

My breath stopped.

And a voice, softer than the others, whispered in my ear—

“You do not belong here.”

Then—

The ground beneath me vanished.

And I fell.

The air rushed past me, cold and heavy, like unseen hands dragging me down. The darkness around me was no longer just darkness—it was thick, choking, alive.

I hit the ground with a jarring thud, my breath knocked from my lungs. The impact should have broken me—but it didn’t. The Glen wanted me alive.

For now.

I gasped, pushing myself up, my palms scraping against damp, uneven stone. A faint glow flickered along the walls, eerie and pale, not firelight, not natural. It pulsed, shifting like the slow heartbeat of something ancient.

And then—

The singing began.

It slithered through the cavern like mist, soft at first, haunting.

Not one voice.

Many.

Weaving together, curling like a spell too sweet to resist.

The melody was hollow, stretching, winding between the cracks of the stone, the water dripping from the ceiling, the very air that filled my lungs.

The voices were beautiful—too beautiful.

And yet, they carried something wrong.

Something ancient.

A whisper of something that should not be.

The words curled into the melody, laced with magic, slipping beneath my skin like cold fingertips pressing against my ribs.

“A daughter, a daughter—Valancaire’s grief—

Not meant for breath, not meant for life, only meant for sleep.”

I shuddered.

The song did not stop.

“A wish, a whisper, a name on the wind—

A mother who prayed for a daughter to sing.”

The cave shifted.

The glow from the walls pulsed, and I felt it.

Something in the air was watching me.

The voices **laughed—**but there was no joy in it. Only knowing.

“But why? But why? You are here still?”

“Ancient magic? A weapon? A will?”

My pulse roared in my ears.

I stood too quickly, my wand raised, my fingers trembling. “Who are you?” I whispered, my voice barely carrying over the sound of the song.

The cave breathed.

The glow **twisted, lengthened—**and then, through the fog, through the shadows, I saw them.

Figures.

Not quite bodies. Not quite ghosts.

Shimmering, shifting shapes, their forms rippling like reflections on dark water.

They stood along the walls of the cavern, dozens of them.

Watching.

Waiting.

Sisters.

The daughters who never lived.

The lost Valancaires.

The song continued.

“Born of love, but love is a curse—

You shall live, but you will live worse.”

The figures moved, inching closer.

I took a step back. My foot hit nothing.

A ledge.

A drop.

The cavern did not end—it plunged into something deeper.

A place I was not meant to go.

The song grew softer.

More intimate.

“Born of love, and you will die of love.”

A warning. A prophecy. A truth.

I clutched my wand so tightly my nails bit into my palm.

“No,” I whispered. “That’s not true.”

The figures smiled.

And in unison, they whispered—“Isn’t it?”

The cave lurched.

And I fell again.

Or maybe I was pulled.

The moment the cavern vanished, the world twisted into light and shadow, shifting, breaking apart like water rippling in reverse. I was weightless, tumbling through something that wasn’t quite space, wasn’t quite time.

And then—I landed.

Soft earth cradled me, cool and damp beneath my hands. The air was heavy, thick with magic that sank into my bones and curled around my ribs like an unseen presence.

I lifted my head—and froze.

A tree stood before me.

No—not just a tree.

The Elderwood.

It towered above me, its bark a pale, glowing silver, veins of deep indigo pulsing like trapped starlight beneath its surface. The roots twisted in spirals, each one curling into ancient runes etched into the very foundation of the Glen. Leaves hung like silk, black at first glance, but shifting into deep blues, greens, and violets as they rustled in the nonexistent wind.

It hummed.

The Elderwood was alive.

It pulsed—not like a heartbeat, but something older. Something knowing.

And standing before it—

She was there.

The woman with blue eyes.

She watched me with that same unreadable expression, her presence both impossibly distant and painfully familiar.

“You are not meant to be here.”

Her voice echoed in the air and beneath my skin, vibrating in the roots, in the leaves, in my very breath.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came.

“But you will come back.”

The mist curled around her feet, pulling at the edges of her form like it wasn’t sure if she should stay or fade away.

She took one step forward, those unearthly blue eyes piercing straight through me.

“Be brilliant. Do not follow your heart.”

And then—she disappeared.

I staggered forward, **reaching—**but the moment my fingers brushed the air where she stood, she was gone.

I was alone.

I turned back to the Elderwood, my breath coming in uneven pulls.

It loomed before me, impossibly still, yet humming with magic so powerful it pressed against my skin like a second heartbeat.

It knew I was here.

It had been waiting.

I took a single step forward—

An arm grabbed me.

I gasped, my body jerking backward, the world snapping into something too real, too solid—

And then I was pulled into warmth.

Arms locked around me, tight, desperate, unyielding.

Sebastian.

Ominis.

I barely had time to react before they crushed me between them, their breathing frantic, their grips near bruising.

Sebastian’s hands shook as he gripped the back of my robes, his face buried against my shoulder. His breath came hard and uneven, like he had run himself into the ground just to get here.

Ominis held me just as tightly, his fingers **curling around my wrist, my waist—**as if afraid I would disappear if he didn’t physically keep me tethered to the world.

I let out a breath—a ragged, uneven thing—and for the first time since I had awoken in this world, I broke.

Tears spilled from my eyes, unstoppable, uncontrollable.

I sobbed.

Not softly. Not quietly.

I cried.

Hard.

The kind of crying that ripped through you, raw and aching, like something breaking open.

Sebastian’s grip tightened. He pressed his forehead against the side of my head, his voice wrecked, hoarse. “You’re here—you’re here—”

Ominis exhaled sharply, his breath shaking, his hold unwavering. “We’ve got you.”

“You found me,” I gasped between sobs.

Sebastian laughed weakly, but it was thin, barely holding. “Of course we did. Of course we did, Jessa.”

I felt Ominis shudder beside me. “You scared us,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

I only held onto them harder.

The world was still dark. The Glen was still watching. The Elderwood still pulsed just behind us.

But in this moment—I had them.

And for the first time, I let myself fall into their warmth, their desperation, their presence—

And I didn’t feel alone.

I exhaled, wiping the last of my tears from my face, my breath still uneven but steadier now.

“I’ll cry more later,” I muttered, shaking my head with a weak smile. “But first, let’s get that damn Elderwood.”

Sebastian huffed out a short laugh, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. Ominis let out a slow breath beside me, his hands still gripping my arms as if to make sure I was real.

We were here.

We were together.

But the Glen was not done with us.

I turned back toward the tree. The Elderwood loomed in front of us, its silver bark glowing faintly, its deep indigo veins pulsing with something ancient, something resistant.

“Alright,” I muttered, “let’s do this—”

Sebastian stepped forward, wand raised. “Should be simple enough—just a branch—”

He reached out.

And the tree moved.

A pulse of raw, furious magic exploded outward, slamming into us like a shockwave. The air itself howled as the Elderwood came alive.

“Bloody hell!” Sebastian cursed, barely dodging a gnarled root that shot out from the ground, nearly taking his legs out.

Ominis let out a sharp breath, twisting his wand upward. “It’s fighting back.”

I barely had time to react before a surge of magic came barreling toward me. I dove to the side, barely missing the violet-hued energy that sliced through the air like a blade.

This wasn’t just a tree.

It was a guardian.

And we had angered it.

“So we need to take this by force,” Ominis muttered, his voice strained.

Sebastian grinned despite the chaos. “Figures. No wonder this thing is rare.”

I gritted my teeth. “Fine. Let’s do this the hard way.”

The Elderwood’s branches lashed out, moving like serpents, slicing through the air with unnatural speed.

We moved as one.

Sebastian’s wand shot forward, casting Expulso, the explosion forcing one of the branches backward, but the tree absorbed the shock, twisting unnaturally.

Ominis was already countering, sending out bursts of Repulso and Diffindo, trying to weaken its defenses.

I dove between them, weaving magic through my hands, calling to the storm within me.

The tree was relentless.

Roots burst from the ground, tearing the earth apart.

Branches whipped forward at speeds too fast to track.

Then—one moved differently.

The attack was nearly invisible. A thin, silver blur cutting through the darkness—a strike faster than the eye could track.

It was aimed at Ominis.

I didn’t think.

I threw myself in front of him.

Pain.

A white-hot, searing pain tore through my right shoulder.

I let out a gasp, stumbling forward, my vision blurring as the impact knocked me off balance.

“Jessa!”

Sebastian’s voice broke.

Ominis caught me before I hit the ground, his arms tightening around me in alarm. “Damn it—hold on—”

The Elderwood shook violently. It was preparing another strike, its entire form pulsing, twisting, gathering magic for something worse.

I clenched my jaw.

No.

No more.

I gritted my teeth against the pain, shoving past it, reaching for the storm inside me.

Electricity crackled at my fingertips.

My vision sharpened.

I lifted my hand toward the sky.

And called the lightning.

The air split open with a deafening CRACK, the sky above roaring with violet-blue streaks of pure energy.

The Glen screamed.

The tree’s branches curled inward, sensing danger, but it was too late.

I brought my hand down—

And the lightning obeyed.

A blinding arc of power struck the Elderwood, cutting through the air like divine judgment.

It slammed into the tree with a force that shook the ground, the impact severing one of its largest branches in a clean, electrified slice.

The tree **shuddered violently—**then stopped.

The remaining branches stilled.

The mist pulled back.

And the Elderwood—no longer moved.

Sebastian let out a breathless laugh. “Well. That was… dramatic.”

Ominis was still holding onto me, his breath ragged. “You’re bleeding.”

I wavered, my knees nearly giving out. “Yeah. I noticed.”

Sebastian was already at my side, his hands finding my waist, holding me upright. “Merlin’s bloody beard, Jessa—” His voice shook. “You nearly—”

I grinned weakly, despite the pain. “But I didn’t.”

Ominis pressed his lips together, his grip tightening. “You threw yourself in front of that attack, Jessa. You didn’t have to.”

“Yes, I did.”

Sebastian’s hands trembled against me. “Don’t you dare say that like it’s nothing.”

I sighed, leaning against them, exhausted. “We got the branch. That’s what matters.”

Sebastian scoffed, his grip around me tightening, his face inches from mine. “What matters is that you’re alive, you reckless, bloody stubborn—”

I cut him off by leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his temple.

Sebastian froze.

Ominis, despite himself, let out a slow, steady breath.

Then—I turned to him, too.

And, just as gently, I pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Ominis’ fingers curled against my back, his breath catching for just a second.

“You two worry too much,” I whispered, voice soft, even as exhaustion pulled at me.

Sebastian huffed a weak laugh. “And you don’t worry enough.”

I smiled. “Well, one of us has to be reckless.”

Ominis sighed, shaking his head, but he didn’t let go.

Neither of them did.

Sebastian practically shoved the Wiggenweld potion into my mouth before I could even protest.

“Drink.” His voice was rough, demanding.

I choked slightly, forcing myself to swallow, wincing as the thick, bitter liquid burned down my throat.

“Sebastian—” I tried.

“Don’t ‘Sebastian’ me. Just drink it.”

I sighed, defeated, finishing the potion in one go.

It should have worked immediately.

Wiggenweld always worked immediately.

But the pain in my shoulder remained.

Dull. Slow. Lingering.

Sebastian noticed.

“Why isn’t it working?” His voice tightened, his hands hovering near my wound, his brown eyes eyes dark with something I didn’t want to name.

Ominis, who had been silent, spoke at last.

“The Elderwood fought back,” he murmured, his head tilting slightly, as if listening to something I couldn’t hear. “This wound isn’t just physical. It’s soaked in magic.”

Sebastian swore.

I exhaled, forcing myself upright. “I’m fine. It’ll heal. Just… slower.”

Sebastian looked like he wanted to argue, but Ominis didn’t give him the chance.

“We need to go. Get the branch.”

Sebastian let out a harsh breath but nodded, reluctantly stepping toward the Elderwood.

The severed branch still pulsed, still hummed, even as it lay motionless on the ground. It was beautiful, its bark silver and lined with veins of deep indigo, the magic inside it still thrumming with life.

Sebastian bent down, wrapping his fingers around it. The moment he lifted it, the air shifted.

The Glen exhaled.

As if it had finally let us go.

Ominis didn’t hesitate. He pulled the silver Floo Powder from his pocket—the one my grandfather had given us before we left.

His grip tightened around me as he whispered, “Hold on.”

I barely had time to take a breath before he threw the powder into the air.

The world lurched.

Magic yanked us backward, swallowing us whole.

The Ruined Glen vanished.

And we were dragged back to the Keep.

The moment we landed, the air shifted.

We were back.

The ritual room’s candles flickered wildly from the sudden burst of magic, the rune beneath us still humming faintly with residual energy.

My grandfather stood waiting, his expression unreadable—but his sharp eyes immediately swept over us, taking in the damage.

His gaze landed on me last, flickering to my **shoulder—**where blood had begun to soak through my robes.

He moved.

Before I could so much as speak, he was at my side, and with a single turn—we Apparated.

The Apothecary Room

I staggered slightly upon landing, but steady hands caught my arm. I blinked.

The room was different.

Unlike the vast, cold grandeur of the Keep, this space felt older, warmer—yet still laced with power. Shelves lined the stone walls, filled with vials of deep emerald, liquid gold, and potions that glowed with runes I didn’t recognize. The air was thick with the scent of dried herbs, burnt sage, and something else—something sharp and arcane.

An apothecary.

A Valancaire apothecary.

My grandfather let go of me only to pull something from the shelf, his movements precise, practiced.

“Drink.”

He handed me a vial of deep sapphire blue. Then, two more for Sebastian and Ominis.

Sebastian took his reluctantly, eyeing it with suspicion. “What exactly are we drinking?”

Ominis, still catching his breath, didn’t even hesitate before downing his.

I sniffed mine. I didn’t recognize it.

That never happened.

“These potions… I don’t recognize them.” I looked up at my grandfather. “What are they?”

He finally turned toward me, his voice calm but firm.

“Brews older than you three combined.” His gaze flickered toward my shoulder before narrowing slightly. “It is Wiggenweld—but infused with the Keep’s magic.”

I inhaled sharply. “The Keep’s magic?”

“It will heal you faster,” he said simply. “You will need it.”

Sebastian was still eyeing his vial. “How much faster are we talking?”

“That depends.” My grandfather’s lips curled slightly. “On whether or not you complain before drinking it.”

Sebastian sighed.

Then, with a muttered curse, he downed the potion.

I exhaled. The magic inside the potion vibrated against my fingertips, like something alive.

Then, without another thought—I drank.

The moment the liquid touched my tongue, **heat spread through my veins—**not like fire, not like pain, but like power.

It felt like being woven back together.

Like the Keep itself was recognizing me.

I closed my eyes, letting it do its work.

When I finally opened them, I found both Sebastian and Ominis staring at me.

Sebastian arched an eyebrow. “Feeling better?”

I blinked. The pain in my shoulder had **dulled—**not gone, but the healing had already begun.

I exhaled. “A little.”

Ominis let out a slow breath. “Then let’s not push our luck.”

Sebastian scoffed, shaking his head. “Oh, now you want to be cautious?”

Ominis ignored him.

My grandfather simply crossed his arms. “Good. Now that you are no longer actively bleeding out—”

Sebastian muttered something under his breath.

My grandfather pretended not to hear it.

Then, his silver-blue gaze landed on the Elderwood branch in Sebastian’s grip.

His expression darkened.

“You brought it back.”

His voice was unreadable.

___

Before I could even breathe, my grandfather grabbed my arm again and Apparated us—

The room shifted, the scent of herbs and potion smoke vanishing, replaced with something rich, warm.

When my feet landed, I blinked.

A dining hall.

Not just any dining hall. An enormous one.

The ceilings stretched high, adorned with silver chandeliers, their light flickering against the deep mahogany wood of the walls. The long table before us was polished, ancient—but despite its size, it was elegant rather than excessive.

I hadn’t even seen this part of the Keep before.

And before I could gather my thoughts, the elves were already moving.

They appeared out of nowhere, deftly setting the table, trays of warm, aromatic food appearing as if they had been expecting us. Rich stews, roasted meats, warm bread, golden honeyed fruit. A feast, despite the fact that the three of us looked like we had been dragged through the underworld.

My grandfather moved toward the head of the table without a word, seating himself with the kind of authority that didn’t need to be spoken. I was placed to his right.

Sebastian and Ominis were seated across from us.

And on the floor beside the table, still humming, still pulsing—

The Elderwood branch.

It lay where Sebastian had placed it, its veins still glowing faintly. The Keep’s magic did not reject it.

The moment we settled, my grandfather spoke.

“Eat. Then tell me everything.”

His voice was calm but expectant, like we weren’t sitting at the table looking like we had just survived a battle with a magical entity.

Sebastian, who had never met a serious moment he couldn’t ruin, grinned.

“This feels like a family dinner.”

I kicked him under the table.

Hard.

“Ow—!” He shot me an offended look.

Ominis sighed. “You deserved that.”

I exhaled sharply, reaching for my goblet. “For once, I agree with Ominis.”

Sebastian grumbled but didn’t argue.

Then, because the universe hates me, the two of them did something infuriatingly predictable.

They served me.

Ominis—**bloody Ominis—**was already placing food on my plate, careful and precise, while Sebastian passed me the bread first before taking anything for himself.

As if it was habit.

As if they didn’t even have to think about it.

“Oh dear,” I muttered, watching them casually continue to serve me while talking amongst themselves.

Ominis, ever composed, was ensuring my plate had the right portions. Sebastian, being himself, was sneaking extra fruit onto it like I wouldn’t notice.

I felt a shift beside me.

I turned.

My grandfather was watching.

Not just watching. Observing.

Not the Elderwood. Not the food.

Them.

His silver-blue gaze flicked between the two boys with something unreadable.

Not judgment.

Not amusement.

Something else.

And then, in the most stunning revelation of all,

He said, “They do not even acknowledge my presence anymore.”

I choked on my drink.

Sebastian and Ominis both froze.

I could see the realization dawn on them at the same time.

Sebastian blinked. “Oh—uh. Right. Yes. Hello, sir.”

Ominis cleared his throat. “Apologies. We were… focused.”

“Focused,” my grandfather echoed, arching a brow.

Sebastian coughed. “On… making sure Jessa eats.”

My grandfather exhaled sharply through his nose. I had no idea if it was a laugh or a sigh of eternal suffering.

I dragged a hand down my face. “I can feed myself, you know.”

Ominis barely lifted his head. “Yes, we know.”

Sebastian, shoving a bite of stew in his mouth, nodded along.

“Then stop bloody serving me.”

Sebastian swallowed. “No.”

Ominis smirked slightly. “No.”

I let out a long, suffering breath.

My grandfather was still watching them.

Then, with unreadable amusement, he picked up his own goblet and took a sip.

“This should be interesting.”

__

Dinner went quietly.

For about five minutes.

Then Sebastian, because he has no self-preservation, decided to try making small talk with my grandfather.

“So—” Sebastian began, casually slicing into his meal, “Valancaire Keep. Bit ominous, isn’t it?”

I nearly kicked him again.

Ominis inhaled so sharply that for a second I thought he was actually choking.

My grandfather, to my eternal horror, simply raised an impatient brow. “Ominous?”

Sebastian, sensing he was in dangerous waters, backtracked. “Not ominous in a bad way. More in a… respectable, fearsome way?”

Ominis was rubbing his temples, muttering something under his breath that was probably a plea to Merlin.

Sebastian, undaunted, pressed on. “You know, if I were an enemy approaching this place, I’d turn around immediately. Powerful, ancient, mysterious—just the right amount of ‘I could die here’ energy.”

I stared at him. “Are you trying to compliment my ancestral home by telling my grandfather it feels like a death trap?”

Sebastian huffed. “I’m saying it’s impressive.”

Ominis muttered, “He should just stop talking.”

My grandfather merely took a sip from his goblet. “You should listen to your friend, boy.”

Sebastian looked positively wounded.

I pressed my fingers against my forehead. “Sebastian. Eat.”

Sebastian sighed dramatically. “Fine. But I was just trying to be—”

“Eat.”

He muttered something about being unappreciated and went back to his meal.

Ominis, for his part, looked like he was physically restraining himself from hexing Sebastian under the table.

And me? I was praying to Merlin that Sebastian did not, under any circumstances, let it slip that he and Ominis were both courting me.

The absolute last thing I needed was to die at the dinner table.

We ate a lot. A ridiculous amount, actually.

After that insufferable mission, after bleeding out, after nearly getting lost in the depths of the Glen itself, we were starving.

And I, for one, could not believe that my grandfather of all people sympathized with us.

It wasn’t in anything he said directly, but in the way he allowed the elves to continue serving us, the way he did not comment when Sebastian and Ominis finished one plate and immediately went for seconds, the way he let me eat in peace.

It was… almost unsettling.

But what was truly unsettling was Sebastian and Ominis.

Because apparently, dinner was a courting opportunity.

The absolute nerve.

They were too attentive. Too aware of me.

Sebastian, despite having nearly died, kept leaning slightly too close, stealing quick glances, brushing his fingers over mine when he passed me something, muttering things just low enough for only me to hear.

Ominis, for all his usual composure, was just as bad. His voice was smooth, calculated, barely above a whisper. “Eat more, Jessa.” “You should rest after this.” “You look tired.”

A normal person might find this endearing.

I found it infuriating.

Because sometimes—just sometimes—one of them would slip, letting a word or tone dip into something unmistakably romantic, unmistakably courting.

And I wanted to hex them both on the spot.

I could feel my grandfather’s stare.

A slow, calculated stare.

And I had the horrible realization that he was picking up on something.

Sebastian. Ominis. If you value your lives, STOP.

Sebastian smirked at me over his goblet.

Ominis tapped his fingers against the table, smug.

I was going to kill them both.

___

For a brief, fleeting moment, I thought we had survived.

The dinner had gone quietly—mostly. Sebastian had run his mouth, Ominis had tried to hex him, and I had resigned myself to the slow, painful death of being caught between them. All normal things.

And then, just when I thought we were safe, my grandfather set his goblet down with an air of casual authority, turned his cold, calculating gaze toward the two men across from me, and said—

“If you do this in my presence, what more do you two do when you are alone with her?”

I choked on my drink.

Sebastian went completely still, his hand frozen halfway to his mouth, goblet shaking slightly. Ominis, whose composure could rival the most disciplined of war generals, gripped the edge of the table like he had just been sentenced to death.

I, on the other hand, wanted to disappear.

There was no misunderstanding what my grandfather meant.

No ambiguity. No room for escape.

He had been watching them.

Watching the way they acted around me.

Watching the way they served me without thought, the way they subtly shielded me in a space where I was not in danger, the way their attention never strayed far from where I sat.

And, worst of all, watching how utterly shameless they were about it.

He took a sip of his wine, gaze never leaving them. “I had my suspicions, of course, but I did not expect you to be this bold.”

Sebastian coughed violently, nearly knocking over his drink. “Shameless? No, sir, we are—deeply ashamed. Very full of shame. Overwhelmed by it, really.”

Ominis pressed his fingers against his temple as though physically restraining a migraine. “Sir,” he said carefully, voice tight, “I assure you, we have only ever acted with the utmost respect toward Jessa.”

If he thought that was a reassuring answer, he was dead wrong.

Because my grandfather arched a single brow, leaned forward slightly, and with the slow, deliberate ease of a man fully aware of his power over this conversation, he asked—

“What are your intentions, then?”

The temperature in the room dropped.

Sebastian visibly tensed. Ominis’ grip tightened.

“And,” my grandfather continued, his voice casual in the way that made my stomach drop, “have you already informed her father? Have you written an official courtship letter to the Valancaire Patriarch?”

A sharp silence followed.

Sebastian and Ominis looked at each other—not with the usual competitiveness or irritation, but with the wide-eyed, silent horror of two men who had just realized they were in over their heads.

I blinked, frowning. “What?”

I turned to my grandfather, confused. “What do you mean?”

He exhaled as though mildly disappointed that I even needed to ask.

“Proper courtship is a formal process, granddaughter. If these men have true intentions, they would have already informed their respective families and sent a letter to your father, declaring their intent to court you properly. In some cases, the Patriarch of the House must also be informed.” He turned to them again, his gaze unreadable. “I assume you have followed the appropriate traditions?”

Sebastian opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

Then opened it again—only to produce absolutely nothing.

Ominis, for the first time in his life, looked truly and completely unprepared.

Neither of them had expected this.

And I realized, with horror, that neither of them had done it.

Sebastian was the first to recover. “Right. Yes. Of course, sir. We were… getting to that.”

My grandfather did not react.

Sebastian’s confidence wavered. “Soon.”

Nothing.

Sebastian coughed, shifting uncomfortably. “Very soon.”

Ominis finally found his voice. “Sir, if I may, Jessa has not yet accepted an exclusive arrangement with either of us—”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Because my grandfather’s gaze snapped toward me instead, his piercing blue eyes narrowing slightly.

And then, he said the words that shattered my entire existence.

“So. That is why you came here one night with your lips bruised.”

The room froze.

Sebastian’s grip on his goblet tightened.

Ominis’ breathing went sharp, controlled.

I forgot how to function.

He had known.

The night I had come back after **the Room of Requirement—**after Sebastian and Ominis had kissed me.

He had noticed.

He had been waiting for the perfect moment to use it against me.

Sebastian let out a strangled laugh, the sound weak and barely convincing.

Ominis looked like he was trying to disappear into his chair.

And then, my grandfather added the final blow.

“You know, in olden times, you would be expected to take responsibility for that.”

Sebastian’s chair scraped against the floor as he abruptly sat forward. “I AM VERY WILLING TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY, SIR.”

Ominis whipped toward him. “Sebastian.”

Sebastian, determined to make things worse, kept going. “FULL RESPONSIBILITY.”

Ominis’ jaw clenched. “We should discuss this first.”

Sebastian shot him a glare. “What, you disagree?”

Ominis turned toward him fully, voice low and seething. “Yes, I disagree!”

And just like that—they started arguing.

In front of my grandfather.

About who was more responsible for kissing me.

I buried my face in my hands, wanting to disappear.

My grandfather, completely unfazed by the utter catastrophe unfolding at his table, turned his attention back to me.

“Are you sure these are your choices, granddaughter?”

I inhaled sharply, ready to scream.

But before I could say a word—before I could even breathe—

Sebastian and Ominis both snapped their heads toward me at the same time.

The room tensed.

I could feel the possessiveness in the air before either of them spoke.

And then, to my absolute horror, they did it again.

The habit.

The stupid, insufferable habit of competing for my attention, my approval, my choice—

Sebastian leaned in first. “She’s obviously going to pick me.”

Ominis scoffed, voice smooth as ever. “Don’t be ridiculous. She wouldn’t tolerate your nonsense for a lifetime.”

Sebastian smirked. “She already does, mate.”

Ominis exhaled sharply. “Then she has poor taste.”

Sebastian shrugged, looking at me too smugly. “And yet, she kissed me.”

Ominis, utterly unfazed, tilted his head toward me. “And then she kissed me.”

My grandfather rubbed his temples.

“Before we end this FUN conversation—” he began, voice steady, deliberate, “I will inform you both that families from pureblood lines have been inquiring about her.”

The words rang out like a curse.

I stiffened, stomach twisting.

Sebastian exhaled slowly, his expression darkening instantly. His posture, which had been tense but somewhat relaxed from the argument, went rigid.

Ominis, whose breathing had already been measured and controlled, inhaled so subtly I almost missed it. His fingers twitched slightly, the only betrayal of the ice running through his veins.

My grandfather let the words sink in. Let the tension settle into something undeniable.

Then he continued, his gaze sharp and unwavering.

“If you do not wish for the courtship to be formal,” he said, voice smooth and neutral, “then that is your choice.”

A challenge.

A warning.

He wasn’t just informing them. He was watching them, measuring them, waiting to see how they would react to the knowledge that others were seeking me out.

The challenge was clear.

Would they fight for me? Or would they step aside?

Sebastian was the first to move.

His fingers uncurled from his goblet, his shoulders squaring, his lips parting slightly as though already preparing to launch himself into an argument.

Ominis, however, was silent.

But he did not need to speak.

The look in his pale, sightless eyes said everything.

My grandfather watched them both for a long, unbearable moment. Then, with a calculated pause, he leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make the air feel thicker.

“What will a Sallow and a Gaunt do?”

The question landed like a thrown dagger, deliberate and cutting, aimed directly at them.

Sebastian met his gaze, unflinching.

Ominis remained motionless.

They had been challenged.

And I knew them.

I knew how competitive they were.

I knew how much they hated losing.

My grandfather had just backed them into a corner.

I could feel it brewing, that storm in both of them, the one that came when they were pushed, tested, forced to fight for what they wanted.

This was no longer just about them courting me.

This was a challenge to their bloodlines, to their names, to their very place in the world.

“Then we’ll write that letter.” His voice was low and firm, unwavering. “Right now.”

Ominis exhaled through his nose, his composure slipping into something just as intense. He nodded once, decisive. “Yes. We will see that it is sent immediately.”

They were going to stand up.

Right then and there.

To write a formal courtship letter to my father.

At this very moment.

I felt a mix of horror and disbelief that this was actually happening.

But before they could so much as push back their chairs completely, my grandfather held up a single hand.

“You can do that later.”

The words weren’t dismissive. They weren’t even relieved, as if he had expected them to back down. No, he had seen their resolve, he had measured their reactions, and he had found them acceptable.

For now.

The weight of the moment lingered before my grandfather sat back, fingers laced together, gaze still cool, still unreadable.

“There is another matter we must discuss.”
__

The room held its breath.

The fire in the hearth burned steadily, casting golden light against the polished wood, flickering against my grandfather’s sharp, unreadable gaze. Sebastian and Ominis sat unmoving, their bodies tense, waiting.

“Your mission to the Glen. Tell me everything that happened.”

It wasn’t a request. It was an expectation, a command.

I set my goblet down with careful precision, my fingers tightening slightly against the cool metal. The Glen.

Even now, sitting safely within Valancaire Keep, I could feel it. Its weight in my bones, its whispers curling at the edges of my mind.

I inhaled slowly and began.

Moments later..

The story was finished, but the room did not breathe.

Sebastian was completely still, his expression unreadable, but I could feel the tension in his body, in the air around him. His fingers had curled into a tight fist against the table, his chest rising and falling slowly, controlled.

Ominis was quiet, but his posture had changed just slightly—his hands resting lightly against his lap, but I could see the way his fingers pressed into his palm.

The silence stretched.

My grandfather did not speak.

He only watched me.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, he finally said, “And what do you think the Glen was trying to tell you?”

I hesitated.

The answer sat at the back of my mind, unformed, incomplete, but something told me—

“I don’t know.”

It was the truth.

Silence lingered in the air like an unspoken curse, thick and unmoving. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, but it did little to ease the weight pressing against my chest. I had finished telling my story—every detail, every fear, every inexplicable truth the Glen had whispered to me.

But my grandfather wasn’t finished.

His sharp silver-blue eyes flickered away from me and landed on the two men sitting across from him.

“And you two?” His voice was as measured as ever, but there was something else now—expectation. Challenge. “What happened to you when Jessa was engulfed by the Glen?”

Sebastian and Ominis both stiffened.

Ominis sat still as stone, his hands pressed together in his lap, fingers barely curled. Sebastian, for once, did not speak immediately. His jaw twitched slightly, as though he had been waiting for this question but hadn’t yet figured out how to answer.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, finally, Ominis exhaled sharply through his nose.

“It took her too fast.” His voice was calm, steady, but I could hear the undercurrent of something dangerous beneath it.

“One second, she was there,” he continued. “The next, she was gone.”

Sebastian’s hands tightened against the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white.

“It swallowed her,” he muttered, the words coming out harder than he likely intended. “Right in front of us. We reached for her, but—”

He stopped, exhaling sharply, shaking his head.

Ominis’ fingers curled just slightly. “The Glen took her, and it didn’t let us follow.”

My grandfather’s gaze remained impassive. “So what did you do?”

Sebastian let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Panicked, obviously.”

Ominis turned his head sharply in Sebastian’s direction, frowning. “We did not panic.”

Sebastian snorted, shaking his head. “You weren’t exactly calm, either, Ominis.”

Ominis exhaled slowly. “I was… focused.”

Sebastian scoffed. “You nearly ripped apart the ground looking for her.”

Ominis’ fingers twitched. “And you nearly burned the entire Glen down.”

My stomach tightened.

I hadn’t known that.

I turned toward them fully, watching the way their magic subtly pulsed at the memory, lingering like an old wound.

“It wouldn’t let us see her,” Ominis continued, his voice lower now. “I tried to track her magic, but it was like she had disappeared entirely. Like the Glen had… consumed her.”

Sebastian’s chestnut brown eyes darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“The Tethering Charm didn’t work,” he muttered, shaking his head, “which means it wasn’t just physical distance. It was the Glen itself. It didn’t want us to find her.”

A pause.

“We weren’t going to leave without her.” Ominis’ voice was quieter now, but the weight in it was undeniable.

Sebastian huffed a sharp breath. “We searched. We fought through that damn mist, listened to the whispers, but nothing. It felt like it was toying with us, keeping us on the edge of something we couldn’t reach.”

Sebastian turned to Ominis slightly, his expression unreadable. “Then you said something. I don’t know if you even realized it at the time.”

Ominis tilted his head, brow furrowing slightly. “What?”

Sebastian leaned forward just slightly, his voice quieter now, like he was recalling something he hadn’t fully processed before. “You said: ‘She’s not lost.’”

Ominis blinked.

Sebastian nodded. “You said it like you knew. Like you had already decided the Glen wouldn’t keep her.”

Ominis was silent for a moment. Then, finally, he spoke, voice quieter than before.

“Because it wouldn’t.”

Sebastian frowned. “Ominis—”

Ominis turned slightly toward me then, his pale eyes searching for something he couldn’t see.

“It wasn’t finished with her yet.”

The words sent a chill down my spine.

Sebastian was watching him carefully now, his jaw set tight.

“What do you mean?” I finally asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ominis hesitated.

Then, with slow precision, he answered.

“I mean that the Glen didn’t want her dead.” His voice was measured, but there was something unspoken beneath it, something that made my chest feel too tight. “It wanted her to understand something. And it wanted us to suffer while we waited for her to come back.”

The silence that followed was heavier than before.

I swallowed hard, feeling the burn of their words settle deep into my ribs.

Sebastian finally broke the silence.

“And then we found her.”

The memory crashed over me all at once—the way I had stumbled toward the Elderwood, the feeling of an arm grabbing me, pulling me back into reality, the way they had both held onto me like they would never let go.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, before turning back to my grandfather, his expression set, unreadable.

“That’s what happened.”

Ominis straightened in his seat. “And now, we’re here.”

My grandfather did not react immediately. He simply leaned back slightly, watching them both.

Assessing. Calculating.

I knew that look.

He was dissecting every word, every reaction, every ounce of magic that had lingered in their voices.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

“I see.”

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

The pause stretched before he turned his gaze back to me.

“And you, granddaughter?” he asked, voice cool. “Do you feel the Glen is finished with you?”

I hesitated.

Not because I didn’t know the answer.

But because I did.

And the truth was terrifying.

I inhaled slowly, steadying myself, before meeting his gaze with certainty.

“No.”

The Glen wasn’t finished with me.

And I wasn’t finished with it.

The words lingered in the air, their weight settling into the very walls of the Keep. My grandfather did not press further, nor did he challenge me on it. Instead, he nodded once, slowly, as though he already knew the answer before I spoke.

“The answers will come to you soon, granddaughter,” he finally said.

His gaze flickered from me to the two men sitting across from him, sharp and calculating once more.

“I must commend you and your two…” He trailed off, as though contemplating his next words, before glancing at them again. “What should I call you at this point?”

Sebastian, who had clearly not yet learned the art of silence in the presence of authority, leaned back in his chair with a cocky smirk.

“Grandson-in-law?”

I kicked him.

Ominis sighed audibly.

Sebastian let out a sharp “Ow—!” before glaring at me. “You have to admit, it has a nice ring to it.”

My grandfather merely arched a brow, unimpressed, but made no comment.

Instead, his gaze fell upon the Elderwood branch, still resting on the floor where Sebastian had set it earlier.

The branch was pulsing faintly with residual magic, the veins running through the wood glowing softly in the dim firelight. The moment my grandfather’s eyes settled on it, I knew what he was thinking.

“There are many uses for Elderwood,” he mused, his fingers tapping against the table in thought. “It is a rare material, its properties unpredictable if used carelessly. As a reward for your candor tonight, I will assist you in dissecting it. You will waste it if you are not careful.”

His gaze returned to me. “What way would you like to use it?”

I straightened in my seat. “An infusion.”

My grandfather regarded me carefully.

“Elderwood infusion is needed in the potion, Grandfather.”

A slow nod. Then, without another word, he stood, his robes shifting as he turned toward the door.

“Follow me.”

The Apothecary – Preparing the Elderwood Infusion

In the center of the room stood a long stone worktable, polished from use, its surface etched with delicate runes to channel magic through brewing. Against the far wall, a massive cauldron sat within an intricate metal framework, ancient and enchanted to withstand powerful infusions.

My grandfather strode toward the table, his movements calm, practiced, as if he had done this a thousand times before. He motioned for me to place the Elderwood branch onto the stone.

The moment it touched the surface, the runes flared to life.

“Elderwood infusion is not like simple extractions,” he began, already reaching for a thin ceremonial dagger from a shelf nearby. “Its magic must be guided, not forced. If handled improperly, it will either refuse to yield its properties… or turn volatile.”

Sebastian, standing to my right, leaned slightly toward Ominis and muttered, “That sounds about right for everything we do.”

I elbowed him.

Ominis let out a soft sigh. “Just listen, Sebastian.”

My grandfather ignored them entirely, setting the dagger down beside the branch before turning to me.

“The first step is separation. The core of Elderwood holds the purest magic, but the outer bark and veins must be stripped carefully. If we take too much or too little, the infusion will be useless.”

He placed his hands lightly over the branch, his fingers barely grazing the surface, before murmuring something under his breath.

The runes on the table shimmered.

With a small flick of his wrist, the bark began peeling away on its own, curling back in thin, ribbon-like strips that hovered briefly before settling in a neat pile beside the branch.

I exhaled slowly, watching the process carefully. Precision. Intent. Not force.

“You will do the next part,” my grandfather instructed, stepping back slightly. “You must separate the veins from the core. It requires careful application of magic—you must not sever them completely. They must remain connected, but loose enough to be drawn into the infusion.”

I nodded, my pulse steadying. This was a test. I could feel it.

Lifting my wand, I focused.

I let the magic sink into my fingers first, let it breathe into the Elderwood, feeling the way it responded. A slight hum, a pulsing rhythm, alive. I carefully traced along the glowing veins, nudging them free from the core with magic rather than force.

The strands of magic-threaded wood unraveled, curling outward like roots searching for something unseen. I moved deliberately, ensuring they remained intact, connected, suspended in the air.

Sebastian and Ominis remained silent for once, watching intently as I worked.

“Good,” my grandfather murmured, his voice neutral. “Now the most important part. The infusion.”

He turned toward the cauldron, lifting his wand. With a swift motion, the runes lining the base of the metal flared, and a faint silver liquid appeared inside—not water, not oil, but something in between.

“Elderwood does not dissolve into potions like common ingredients,” he continued. “It must be coaxed. The core must be submerged first, so that it releases its essence. Then, the veins will follow, binding the magic into the base.”

I reached for the core, feeling the weight of it in my hand. It was warm—alive.

Slowly, I lowered it into the shimmering liquid.

The reaction was immediate.

The cauldron hummed, the liquid shifting from silver to deep violet, then back again, flickering between colors like it was deciding what to become.

Then, with a single whispered incantation, I let the veins follow.

The moment they touched the liquid, the entire room pulsed with energy.

Sebastian inhaled sharply.

Ominis tilted his head slightly, feeling the shift.

The magic settled.

My grandfather studied the cauldron before giving a small nod. “It is done. The infusion will stabilize in a few hours.”

He turned to me. “Your first proper infusion. Not terrible.”

Coming from him, that was high praise.

Sebastian leaned toward me slightly, grinning. “Not terrible. You must be beaming with pride.”

I sighed. “Sebastian.”

Ominis smirked slightly. “She hasn’t hexed you yet. That’s a sign of progress.”

I exhaled, shaking my head, but the truth was—I felt lighter.

The Elderwood infusion pulsed faintly within the cauldron, its magic slowly stabilizing as the room settled into a strange, heavy silence. The weight of the process still lingered in the air, like an enchantment that refused to fade.

I turned to my grandfather, hesitating for only a fraction of a second before I spoke.

“Thank you, Grandfather.”

The words came easier than expected. He had given me guidance, shared knowledge that few would ever have access to. Even if he did it in his usual cold, calculating way, I would not be ungrateful.

Sebastian and Ominis echoed their thanks, their voices more measured, careful in the presence of a man they still had not entirely won over.

For a moment, it felt like this was the end of the conversation. That we had done what we had come to do.

But I knew better.

I took a slow breath, already knowing what I was about to say next would test my luck.

“If I might impose on more of your time,” I said carefully, “there is something else we need your help with.”

My grandfather, who had been inspecting the infusion, stopped.

Then, without looking at me, he said flatly—

“Do not tell me another rare ingredient.”

I hesitated. “No.”

I turned my gaze to Sebastian and then back to my grandfather. “A spell.”

His eyes finally lifted, locking onto mine. “A spell.”**

Not a question. A statement.

He was already assessing, already calculating whether my request was worth his time before I even said it aloud.

I inhaled slowly, then said the name.

“Medimorfius.”

The word landed like a stone in still water.

I saw it—the faint flicker in my grandfather’s gaze. Not shock. Not confusion. Recognition.

He knew it.

And that meant it was real.

Sebastian’s hands curled into tight fists beside me, the weight of the moment settling into his posture.

Ominis remained still, but I could sense his focus shifting entirely onto my grandfather, waiting for the answer.

My grandfather studied me for a moment before speaking.

“A lost restorative incantation.” His tone was unreadable, but something about the way he said it confirmed what I already suspected. “Requires a live subject to channel the afflicted’s magic back into balance.”

I nodded. “You do know it, then.”

There was no need for further confirmation. His silence was enough.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, his voice tight. “We need it.”

I turned to look at him, the urgency etched into every inch of his expression.

“We need to learn it.”

This is also part of the cure yes? 

We nodded. 

Who will perform it? I will sir. Sebastian said. The cursed person is my sister. 

The lost restorative incantation.

The answer to what we had been searching for.

My grandfather had already laid the foundation of understanding—this spell wasn’t merely a charm or an enchantment, it was a bridge between the caster and the afflicted. It required a connection, a sacrifice of one’s own magic to rebalance what was lost.

Sebastian was determined, unshaken, already committing himself to the process, his focus unwavering. But Ominis and I weren’t about to stand by as observers.

This spell was too powerful, too dangerous, to leave everything on Sebastian’s shoulders alone.

My grandfather’s gaze flickered over the three of us as he gestured toward the glowing words still suspended in the air above the runic table.

“Medimorfius is unlike any restorative spell you’ve ever encountered,” he repeated, his voice even, measured. “It requires structure. Intent. Control. Without all three, you risk damaging yourself just as much as the afflicted.”

I stepped forward slightly. “If balance is key, then how do we measure how much magic is needed? How do we prevent overextension?”

Sebastian turned his head slightly toward me at that, as if the thought had just occurred to him.

My grandfather did not hesitate. “By instinct, precision, and control.” He studied me. “Do you understand the nature of a magical tether?”

I frowned. “Yes. It’s a stabilizing link between two magical forces. Typically used in rituals or artifact restoration.”

“Correct.” His gaze sharpened. “Medimorfius functions similarly, except instead of stabilizing an external object, you are stabilizing another wizard’s magic—at the cost of your own energy.”

Ominis finally spoke, his voice calm but steady. “And if that balance is disrupted? If too much magic is drained?”

My grandfather turned to him fully, clearly noting the sharpness of his tone. “Then the curse overwhelms the caster. It does not pass to them, but it will drain them to the point of magical collapse. Worst case scenario? You sever your own magic entirely.”

Sebastian’s grip tightened against the edge of the table. “How do we prevent that?”

My grandfather’s silver-blue gaze swept over him. “Discipline. You must learn to control how much you give, and how much you withhold.”

Sebastian nodded, already absorbing the information.

But I wasn’t done yet.

I took a step closer. “You mentioned the Wizarding Bloodline Infusion. How exactly does it interact with the spell?”

My grandfather gave me an approving look, as if he had expected me to ask that.

“The Bloodline Infusion acts as a magical conduit, anchoring the spell to the caster’s lineage. It ensures that the transfer of magic does not spiral out of control.”

Sebastian’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I have to do it.”

He wasn’t asking.

I could feel his frustration, his desperation to fix what had been broken, to undo the suffering Anne had endured for years.

But I wasn’t willing to let him bear that alone.

I straightened. “But what if two casters perform it together?”

Sebastian’s head snapped toward me. “Jessa—”

“Think about it,” I cut in. “If the burden of magic is shared, it reduces the risk of overextension.” I turned back to my grandfather. “Has it ever been performed that way?”

He regarded me for a long moment before slowly nodding. “Yes. But it is dangerous. It requires perfect synchronization between the casters. If one falters, the other could take the full brunt of the spell’s backlash.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “I don’t want you putting yourself at risk.”

I met his gaze, my own steady. “And I don’t want you taking this on alone.”

Ominis exhaled, stepping forward slightly. “What about me?”

Sebastian turned toward him sharply. “Ominis—”

“Don’t start,” Ominis cut him off, voice cool. “This spell is about balance, isn’t it? Stability. That means the best chance of success isn’t just one caster—it’s three.”

Sebastian’s expression flickered—hesitation, frustration, something close to relief, but masked beneath the weight of responsibility.

My grandfather observed us carefully. “It is possible. Three casters could provide a fail-safe in case one begins to falter.”

Sebastian dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “You two don’t have to do this. This is my fight.”

“Your fight, but not yours alone,” Ominis said simply.

Sebastian’s throat worked once, but he didn’t argue.

Instead, he straightened, resolve hardening once more. “Then teach us.”

My grandfather nodded once. “Very well. We will begin.”

The First Lesson

My grandfather lifted his wand, and with a sharp motion, the runes on the table shifted, rearranging themselves into a new formation.

The three of us stood before him, watching as the ancient letters glowed softly, forming an intricate circular pattern.

“The first step of Medimorfius is establishing the magical link,” he said. “Before you can restore balance to the afflicted, you must first stabilize your own connection to one another. This is the foundation of the spell.”

He gestured to the runes. “Place your hands over them. Focus your magic. Let it flow, but do not force it.”

Sebastian, Ominis, and I exchanged brief glances before stepping forward, placing our hands over the cool stone.

At first, there was nothing.

Then, a hum.

A soft, invisible thread of magic weaving between the three of us, faint at first, then growing stronger.

Sebastian exhaled slowly. “I can feel it.”

Ominis’ expression was unreadable, but I could tell he felt it too.

I focused, letting my magic settle into the bond, steadying it, strengthening it.

My grandfather studied us, his gaze unwavering.

“Good.”

The glow of the runes pulsed gently beneath our fingers, responding to the connection, solidifying it.

“This is only the beginning,” my grandfather said, voice low, deliberate. “If you three are to perform Medimorfius together, you must become extensions of each other. No doubt. No hesitation. No faltering.”

A pause.

“You must move as one.”

Sebastian exhaled sharply, then gripped the edge of the table.

“Then let’s do it.”

Ominis nodded once, and I steadied my breath.

We had taken the first step.

And there was no turning back.
___

We had been at it for hours, perfecting the incantation, stabilizing our magic, ensuring we could channel the spell without losing control.

Medimorfius wasn’t just a spell—it was an exchange, a balance between forces that could just as easily destroy as they could restore.

We had failed at first, overcompensating in some areas, hesitating in others. But now—finally—we had reached equilibrium.

Sebastian, Ominis, and I stood shoulder to shoulder, our magic still faintly intertwined as the runes on the stone table dimmed, their glow settling back into the stone as my grandfather lifted his wand, signaling the end of the lesson.

He studied us, assessing with that sharp, unwavering gaze before giving a curt nod.

“That is it. Remember every key point. Focus and balance are key.”

I exhaled, my muscles aching with the strain of the spell. Ominis was breathing deeply beside me, and Sebastian, ever-stubborn, rolled his shoulders as if trying to shake off the exhaustion.

My grandfather noticed.

He did not comment, but his gaze flickered toward our worn expressions, a silent acknowledgment of the strain we had placed on ourselves.

Then, after a beat, he asked, “Do you have everything you need now?”

I nodded, straightening. “Yes, Grandfather.”

Between us, we carried all that we had come for.

•In our satchels rested the remnants of the Elderwood—the infused extract, the branch that still hummed faintly with residual magic.

•In our minds sat the newfound knowledge of Medimorfius, the mechanics of magical equilibrium, the risk of overextending our power.

•In our bones lingered the weariness of the journey, the unspoken weight of what was to come.

I had not expected anything more, had already prepared myself for my grandfather’s usual, detached dismissal.

But instead—

He looked at me.

“Regarding the song you heard in the Glen, Jessa. Ask your mother about it.”

The words stopped me cold.

My eyes snapped to him.

“What?”

He did not elaborate. “She will know.”

My heart hammered.

The song. The melody whispered in the darkness. The voice of the woman with blue eyes like mine, singing of a mother who had longed for a daughter, a wish so desperate it had bent fate itself.

I swallowed hard. “I… will, Grandfather.”

The shock was plain on my face, but he said no more.

Instead, I stepped forward, forcing my mind to focus on what mattered now.

“Thank you again, Grandfather.”

Sebastian, for once, hesitated.

I saw the way his throat worked, the way his fingers curled slightly before he forced himself to speak.

“Thank you, sir. You don’t know how much this means to our family.”**

Ominis, ever composed, added quietly, “Thank you—truly. For allowing us here.”

For a second, my grandfather did nothing.

Then, he nodded once, a gesture so slight that if I had blinked, I might have missed it.

The weight of the moment felt strange, almost foreign. My grandfather was a hard man, a man who saw sentiment as weakness, but still…

He had let us come. He had let them come. He had given us what we needed.

That, in his own way, was his approval.

And then, before anyone could make it out of this moment gracefully, Sebastian—**absolute menace that he was—**decided to ruin it.

“Should I bring muffins next time?”

I turned so fast I nearly hexed him on instinct.

Ominis let out a long, pained sigh, as if considering throwing himself into the cauldron instead of enduring another second of Sebastian’s existence.

My grandfather, unimpressed, merely tilted his head. “The only time you will return to this Keep, Sallow, is if one of you also carries the Valancaire name.”

Sebastian blinked.

Ominis stiffened.

I choked on air.

There was a beat of silence, a moment where I prayed—desperately—that Sebastian would not—

“So, we need to take her name? Fine with me.”

Ominis lunged.

I grabbed his arm before he could hex Sebastian into next week.

Sebastian grinned, victorious, completely unfazed.

My grandfather, ever composed, merely observed.

I could feel my own patience crumbling into dust.

Ominis, barely containing himself, muttered something under his breath that was most certainly not polite.

I sighed deeply and turned back to my grandfather. “We should go before one of them dies.”

He handed us the silver Floo powder, and with one last sweeping look at the Keep—the place that had tested us, trained us, and given us what we needed—we stepped into the flames.

And then we were gone.

__

The moment our feet touched solid ground, the familiar warmth of the Room of Requirement embraced us, a stark contrast to the cold, ancient magic of Valancaire Keep. The soft flickering of enchanted lanterns, the scent of aged parchment and brewed potions, the quiet hum of our sanctuary—it was a comfort I hadn’t realized I needed.

I exhaled slowly, my body still aching from the exhaustion of training, the weight of our journey pressing down on my shoulders.

Sebastian, Ominis, and I stood in silence for a moment, letting the magic of the room settle around us.

Then, we moved.

Carefully, I stepped forward and reached for the satchel at my side, undoing the leather strap and retrieving the vial of Elderwood infusion. Its contents shimmered faintly, shifting between deep violet and silver—a perfect balance of raw, untamed magic, stabilized and controlled.

I placed it among the other ingredients we had gathered—each one carefully obtained, each one marking the next step toward Anne’s cure.

Sebastian was quiet.

Too quiet.

I turned toward him, finding him standing still, staring at the assembled ingredients.

Ominis must have noticed too because he took a small step forward. “Sebastian?”

Sebastian exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before turning to face us.

His chestnut brown eyes—**always so expressive, so stubborn, so fiercely determined—**held something raw beneath their usual fire.

“You know that you’re saving a part of my soul, yes?” His voice was steady, but there was something unspoken beneath it.

My breath hitched.

Sebastian’s gaze flickered between the two of us.

“The dangers of this. The risks. You didn’t have to do it. You didn’t have to stand beside me through all of this.”

His hands curled into fists at his sides, but there was no frustration in his voice—only something close to disbelief.

“But you did. Both of you.”

His words hung heavy in the air.

Ominis was the first to break the silence.

“You and Anne are like the siblings I never had.” His voice was softer than usual, a rare moment of vulnerability. “I’ve never regretted anything I’ve done for you. Not once.”

His pale eyes flickered downward slightly, his expression tightening. “My only regret is that I almost gave up on her. That I let my fears convince me there was nothing we could do.”

He exhaled. “I shouldn’t have.”

Sebastian turned to him fully, something unreadable in his expression.

I stepped closer. “I’ve never regretted anything either, Bas.”

Sebastian’s eyes snapped to mine, searching, lingering.

I held his gaze. “You, Anne, Ominis—you’ve become so important to me. There was no choice to make. I would do it all over again, every time.”

Sebastian swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. “You two are absolute fools.”

Ominis let out a soft, breathy laugh. “And yet, here you are with us.”

Sebastian huffed a small, humorless chuckle, but I could see the way his shoulders relaxed just slightly, the tension that had been gripping him for so long easing—if only for a moment.

Then, he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I hope you two know that I’m never letting you live this down.”

I smirked. “I hope you know that we’re never letting you do anything alone ever again.”

Sebastian blinked, paused, and then muttered, “Bloody hell, what have I done?”

Ominis smirked. “Secured your place in eternal suffering, apparently.”

I laughed softly, the exhaustion of everything catching up to me, but for the first time in a long time—I felt steady.

We had come back from the Glen together.

We had learned Medimorfius together.

We would save Anne together.

And in that moment, I knew, without a doubt—

Nothing would break us.

__

Ominis exhaled sharply, crossing his arms with an air of exaggerated suffering.

“Now stop being disgustingly emotional. I might gag.”

Sebastian snorted, shaking his head, and I let out a soft laugh, the tension that had been pressing against my ribs finally easing.

For all the weight of everything we had just gone through—for all the risks, the sacrifices—we were still us.

I glanced at the ingredients once more, my fingers trailing over the cool glass of the Elderwood infusion. Only one thing remained.

“Only the Moonstone Core Essence is missing,” I said, turning toward them. “I need to ask Garreth tomorrow for any updates.”

Sebastian and Ominis said nothing.

Not a single argument. Not a single complaint.

They just stood there.

Silent.

…Too silent.

I blinked.

Then smirked.

“Ohhh… no comment?” I teased, crossing my arms. “What’s this? No snide remarks? No ridiculous displays of jealousy? What’s happened to my suitors—are you already tired of me?”

Sebastian scowled.

Ominis’ jaw clenched.

Ah. There it was.

Sebastian let out a pointedly loud exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jessa.”

Ominis lifted his chin, voice far too calm. “You already know our stance on the matter. The fact that the deal was made because of a kiss is irrelevant at this point.”

I grinned, far too entertained.

“So you’re not going to complain?”

Sebastian let out a deeply aggrieved sigh. “It’s for Anne. We’re being mature.”

Ominis’ lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes. Mature.”

I arched a brow. “You’re both lying.”

Sebastian scowled harder. “It’s for Anne, Jessa.”

Ominis crossed his arms tighter. “For Anne.”

I smirked. “Not even a little annoyed?”

They both glared at me.

I grinned, arms crossed over my chest, watching Sebastian and Ominis visibly struggle to remain composed. Their forced maturity, their stubborn refusal to react, was far too tempting a target for me to resist.

So, naturally, I pushed.

“So it’s fine for me to kiss people for ingredients, then? Good to know.”

I smiled sweetly—too sweetly. A deliberate, practiced look. A sultry tilt of my lips, a lesson passed down from my mother.

Ominis’ posture went rigid.

Sebastian’s hand twitched at his side.

They did not react outright. Not yet.

But oh, I saw it.

The flicker of possessive irritation in Sebastian’s chestnut brown eyes. The way Ominis’ fingers curled just slightly, his jaw setting tight.

So, I pushed further.

“Maybe I should make a habit of it—”

I barely got the words out before Sebastian moved.

“You know,” he interrupted, his voice low, dangerous, the teasing edge in my words crumbling beneath the weight of his tone, “we almost lost you earlier at the Glen.”

I stiffened.

Sebastian took a step forward, slow, deliberate.

“You fell into nothing, Jessa. The Glen swallowed you whole.”

Ominis stepped closer too, his voice softer but no less lethal.

“Our hearts tore apart, piece by piece, waiting to see if we’d ever find you again.”

The air shifted.

My breath caught.

Sebastian tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “And now you’re playing again?”

Ominis’ next words sent a shiver down my spine.

“Be careful.”

His voice was barely above a whisper, but there was something beneath it, something quiet and unshakable.

“We might burn you.”

A pulse of magic flickered in the air, the room suddenly feeling too small, too hot.

I swallowed, forcing myself to stay still despite the way my pulse quickened.

But still—I pushed.

“Oh no,” I said, my voice softer now, a breath away from mocking but not quite there. “I think I’ve developed a habit.”

A long pause.

Then—

Sebastian smirked.

But it wasn’t his usual cocky grin, not the kind he used when he was about to get away with something.

No.

This was a promise. A warning. A challenge.

“Then we’ll have to break it.”

Ominis tilted his head ever so slightly, a small, knowing smile playing at his lips.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Bad habits should be corrected.”

The room crackled with something unspoken, something dangerous, thrilling, and completely uncontrollable.

I had played the game.

I had pushed the fire.

And now, I was standing in the flames.

Sebastian didn’t go for my lips.

He went for my neck.

The barest brush of his mouth against my skin, just above my pulse, his breath hot, teasing, deliberately slow. His fingers grazed my waist—not possessive, not forceful, but controlling, as if to remind me exactly who had started this game and who was about to lose it.

Ominis wasn’t far behind.

His lips found my jaw, warm and deliberate, tracing a path that left a shiver rolling down my spine. His hands were light at my arms, but I could feel the way his grip tightened, just slightly, betraying his restraint.

I—

I was burning.

I had pushed, teased, taunted—but now, the fire I had so carelessly played with had turned against me, licking up my skin, searing through my veins.

I needed to take back control.

Think, Jessa.

Right.

I could do that.

I exhaled deliberately, just enough to make my breath catch, to make my voice break in a way that wasn’t intentional but utterly damning. A single, breathy, helpless sound—

—and it worked.

I felt Sebastian freeze, his grip faltering for half a second.

Ominis let out a sharp breath, his fingers twitching against my skin.

The tension in the air turned thicker, tighter, coiling like a bowstring pulled just past its limit.

And that was when I moved.

With their attention compromised, I slipped—carefully, smoothly, stepping back just enough to put distance between us, reclaiming my space, my breath, my control.

Their expressions were wrecked.

Sebastian’s chest was rising and falling too fast, his lips parted slightly, his grip still mid-air, as if he had been seconds away from grabbing me again. His eyes—**Merlin help me—**were dark with something entirely dangerous.

Ominis’ lips were still slightly parted, his posture too tense, too still, as if his body was trying to understand why I had just vanished from his reach.

I straightened, smoothing down my robes as if I hadn’t just narrowly escaped being consumed whole.

“That is enough for the night,” I said smoothly, my voice far too composed for how fast my heart was beating.

Sebastian blinked. Once. Twice.

Ominis finally exhaled, running a hand down his face as if to physically pull himself back together.

I smiled, sweet and oh so victorious.

“Let’s rest, yes? We have a big day tomorrow.”

And before either of them could regain their footing, before they could retaliate, before they could turn the game back in their favor—

I left them.
__

Jessa’s POV

The castle was eerily quiet, save for the faint crackling of the dying embers in the dormitory fireplace. The weight of the day settled into my limbs as I finally slipped inside, exhaustion pulling at my bones.

We had missed an entire day of classes.

Sharp was going to kill us. Garlick might look disappointed (which was somehow worse). Binns would drone on about goblin rebellions as if I had never been gone.

Samantha was already asleep, curled under her blankets, completely oblivious to the chaos that awaited me.

And on my desk?

Three letters.

I blinked.

One from Professor Weasley.

One from Anne.

One from Mother.

I reached for Professor Weasley’s first, breaking the seal with careful fingers.

Letter from Professor Weasley

Dear Ms. Valancaire,

The Headmaster has been informed that you, Mr. Gaunt, and Mr. Sallow were running an errand for Mr. Valancaire, your grandfather. Per his request, your absence has been excused, and it has been decided that this matter should remain undisclosed to your peers.

I have assigned your classmates to relay your missed assignments, under the pretense that you were assisting me with an academic errand.

I expect you to complete your work in a timely manner.

Professor Matilda Weasley

I stared at the parchment.

Then read it again.

Grandfather wrote to the school.

The same grandfather who had spent years making me earn his approval, who greeted me with magical duels instead of warm hugs, who regarded displays of sentimentality as an inconvenience—

Had personally ensured that our attendance records remained intact.

The very same man who, days ago, had tried to maim me as a form of training.

I let out a quiet breath, uncertain what to do with the warmth creeping into my chest.

I would be sure to thank him next time.

If only to see Sebastian and Ominis’ expressions when they inevitably realized the same thing.

Still, the secrecy of it all unsettled me. Why had my grandfather been so insistent that no one else knew?

I pushed the thought aside and reached for Anne’s letter next.

Letter from Anne Sallow

Dear Jessa,

Feeling better, thankfully. I still have bad days, but at least I no longer feel like my body is betraying me every moment of the day.

It’s strange—to feel hope again.

For the first time in years, I’m beginning to believe that things might actually change. That I might not be trapped in this cycle of pain forever.

And you are the reason for that.

Now, onto more pressing matters—

Sebastian? Infuriating? Surely not.

Ominis? Dangerous? Not even a little bit surprised.

Garreth? Exactly as we expect? Unwaveringly predictable.

Jessa, I hate to tell you this, but your entire life has, in fact, been an elaborate setup. You are cursed to be adored.

Personally, I find it hilarious.

However, if any of them break your heart, I will be forced to do something reckless. And considering my current state, that would be a great inconvenience for all of us.

Also, please don’t make promises you can’t keep—no one can make Sebastian behave. Not even you.

Write to me soon. I want details.

Love,

Anne

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head.

Anne knew.

Of course she did.

She had seen it before I had even admitted it to myself.

“Cursed to be adored.”

I wasn’t sure if I felt flattered or concerned.

Still, Anne’s words made something settle in me. She believed in me. She believed that this would work.

That, for the first time in years, there was hope.

I swallowed, setting the letter aside.

Only one left.

Mother’s.

I braced myself.

This was going to be an absolute disaster.

I carefully broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.

Letter from Lady Valancaire

My Dearest Jessa,

Let me make this clear immediately—

I AM SO PROUD OF YOU.

Three suitors?

At once?

My darling girl, you are your mother’s daughter.

Now, onto business.

Sebastian Sallow—brooding, reckless, annoyingly handsome. Troubling. Very troubling.

Ominis Gaunt—elegant, clever, well-mannered. Also a Gaunt, which means your father might faint.

Garreth Weasley—charming, funny, absolute menace. I do admire his persistence.

Jessa.

You have crafted a proper courtship war, and for that, I must congratulate you.

However—what exactly do you mean by “cosmic joke?”

Are you suggesting that this is not exactly as it should be?

Are you implying that my meticulously designed dresses did not serve their exact purpose?

Jessa.

Jessa.

You may try to fight it, but you are a Valancaire. This is destiny.

And speaking of destiny—I will be arriving at Hogwarts soon.

I must assess your suitors personally.

I expect grand gestures. Nothing less.

If they do not worship the ground you walk on, I will be very disappointed.

With love (and immense excitement),

Your Mother

I stared at the parchment.

Then read it again.

Then groaned loudly into my hands.

She was coming here.

My mother—Lady Valancaire—was coming to Hogwarts AGAIN.

To assess my suitors.

To judge Sebastian.

To judge Ominis.

To judge Garreth.

I let out a soft, strangled noise, already picturing the absolute warzone that was about to unfold.

Sebastian was going to lose his mind.

Ominis might actually throw himself off the Astronomy Tower.

And Garreth—Merlin help him—was doomed.

I sank into my chair, rubbing my temples.

This… this was going to be a disaster.

I let out a long, suffering sigh, pressing my fingers into my temples.

Mother was coming.

Merlin help me, she was actually coming.

Sebastian would be insufferable. Ominis might die on the spot. Garreth—oh, sweet, oblivious Garreth—was simply not prepared for the trial ahead.

I groaned and reached for a fresh sheet of parchment.

If I had any hope of stopping this impending disaster, I needed to act now.

Letter to Lady Valancaire

Mother,

I beg you—please do not come to Hogwarts.

I will update you, I promise. You will know everything you wish to know about my progress with my suitors.

There is no need for an in-person assessment.

Sebastian, Ominis, and Garreth are already enduring enough torment without you adding to their suffering.

That being said, I’m sure you will somehow find a way to make your presence known regardless of what I write here.

So, I’ll skip ahead to something more important.

I need to ask you something.

Are you familiar with this song?

I heard it recently—sung in a voice I did not recognize.

A daughter, a daughter—Valancaire’s grief—

“Not meant for breath, not meant for life, only meant for sleep.”

“A wish, a whisper, a name on the wind—

“A mother who prayed for a daughter to sing.”

“But why? But why? You are here still?”

“Ancient magic? A weapon? A will?”

“Born of love, but love is a curse—

“You shall live, but you will live worse.”

“Born of love, and you will die of love.”

Do you know it?

Does it mean anything to you?

Please write back as soon as you can.

And before you **spiral into unnecessary concern—**I am fine.

I miss you. Please send my love to Father.

With all my affection,

Jessa

I let out a slow breath, reading over my words one last time.

Something about the song still unsettled me.

The voice that had sung it, the way the words had wrapped around me like a prophecy I did not ask for.

I didn’t tell her about the Glen.

Not yet.

Instead, I sealed the letter, pressing my wax seal into the parchment before calling for my owl.

With a soft flutter of wings, it was gone.

And then, finally, exhaustion dragged me down, pulling me into the embrace of sleep.

Even still, the song echoed in my mind.

___

A Weekend in Hogsmeade

Jessa’s POV

The morning sunlight streamed through the dormitory windows, its golden warmth spilling over my bed as I blinked awake to the sound of Samantha shaking my shoulder.

“Jessa! Wake up!”

I groaned, burying my face into my pillow.

“Go away, Sam.”

She ignored me, cheerfully relentless.

“It’s the weekend, and we’re all going to Hogsmeade! We planned it yesterday—” she paused, then added with suspicion laced into her voice, “but you and your two suitors were nowhere to be found. What errand did you even run?”

I sat up at that, suddenly much more awake.

Good. Professor Weasley’s letter had done its job.

I stretched lazily, offering Samantha a bright, innocent smile. “Oh, it was confidential—per Professor Weasley.”

Samantha narrowed her eyes.

I could practically hear the gears turning in her head, trying to decide whether or not to believe me.

“Fine,” she relented after a moment, though her tone was far from convinced. “I have your homework on my desk. But today, we’re going to have fun.”

She suddenly grinned and thrust something into my arms.

“Here, wear this!”

I glanced down at the outfit she had picked for me and couldn’t help but smile.

It was perfect for the cold weather, yet still effortlessly elegant and flattering.

A rich, deep sapphire cloak lined with fur, its edges embroidered with delicate silver thread, wrapped around a soft, cream-colored wool dress that fit me just right—neither too formal nor too casual. A pair of leather gloves and heeled boots completed the ensemble.

Warm. Stylish. Practical.

Samantha really did know my wardrobe better than I did.

I raised an eyebrow at her. “You know my wardrobe better than me, Sam.”

She laughed proudly. “Of course I do!”

I shook my head, still smiling as I pulled the outfit on.

Once I was dressed, we linked arms and made our way down to the Grand Hall for breakfast, the promise of a carefree morning ahead.

The buzz of conversation in the Great Hall was lively as I walked in with Samantha, but I immediately noticed something different.

The usual suspects—**our group, our inner circle of chaos—**were already seated.

And oh, what a sight it was.

I blinked.

Poppy sat next to Everette Clopton, their heads tilted together in quiet conversation.

Natty was seated beside Amit Thakkar, and while her expression remained composed, I didn’t miss the small, pleased smile tugging at her lips.

And—oh my Merlin.

Leander Prewett was waiting expectantly for Samantha to sit next to him.

Which—she did.

I immediately rounded on her, a slow, teasing grin spreading across my face.

“Samantha Dale,” I gasped in mock betrayal. “You have been keeping SECRETS from me.”

Samantha turned bright red, glaring at me. “Jessa, don’t start.”

“I would NEVER,” I said, looking delighted. “Except I absolutely will. You and Leander?!”

Leander, to his credit, simply cleared his throat and stared very hard at his plate.

Natty, Poppy, and Everette all laughed.

I turned, scanning the table again. **Jace was missing—**which meant I was temporarily free from his usual brotherly meddling.

And of course—my designated seat remained exactly as I expected.

Between my two great suitors.

Sebastian already had a plate ready for me, filling it with precisely what I liked.

Ominis wordlessly set a cup of tea beside me, already brewed exactly to my preference.

I sat down between them without hesitation, feeling the warmth of familiarity settle in my chest.

I knew they had already received Professor Weasley’s letter.

They knew about the deceit, about my grandfather’s secret intervention.

But for now, they said nothing.

Instead, they remained close, their presence a quiet anchor on either side of me.

And then—

“Oh, I invited Garreth too,” I announced.

Sebastian and Ominis both tensed slightly, their movements subtle but telling.

And right on cue—

“Hey, guys! Hey, sweets!”

Garreth Weasley strode up to the table with his usual confidence, plopping himself down across from me—

Deliberately not risking the space between Ominis and Sebastian.

Smart.

“I didn’t see you yesterday,” Garreth said smoothly, grinning. “I missed you, you know.”

Ominis’ lips curled into something smug.

Sebastian leaned back, mirroring the expression exactly.

Oh no.

They were going to lie.

And sure enough—

“Oh, don’t worry, Weasley,” Sebastian said easily, his tone light, but his grin full of deceit.

“Professor Weasley had us running a very important errand.”

“Very important,” Ominis added, taking a casual sip of his tea. “Completely confidential.”

Garreth raised an eyebrow, clearly amused but unconcerned.

He turned his attention back to me, grinning.

“Well, I have something for you, sweets,” he said, reaching into his satchel. “The thing you asked for.”

My breath hitched.

I knew what it was before he even pulled it out.

The Moonstone Core Essence.

The final ingredient.

“Oh my gosh,” I gasped, my excitement breaking through every other thought in my head. “Thank you!”

I would have hugged him if he had been closer.

But—

Sebastian and Ominis stilled.

Their gazes locked onto the small vial Garreth placed in my hands.

Realization hit them at once.

This was it. The last piece of the puzzle.

We could finally brew the potion.

“What is it?” Samantha asked, peering over curiously.

Garreth, because he was Garreth, decided to ruin my life immediately.

“It’s a secret, Sam,” he said smoothly, his voice unbearably smug. “One forged in kisses.”

I froze.

Samantha blinked.

Sebastian’s fork snapped in half.

Ominis exhaled sharply, setting his teacup down with far too much force.

I turned bright red, clutching the vial in my hands.

“I am going to KILL YOU, GARRETH WEASLEY.”

Garreth just laughed, looking far too pleased with himself.

But not today.

Not yet.

Because today—we finally had everything we needed.

_____

After breakfast, our entire group made their way toward Hogsmeade, the crisp morning air biting against our cheeks as we strolled down the familiar path.

And Merlin save me.

I could not handle three suitors.

Sebastian, Ominis, and Garreth were hovering.

They were not just walking with me.

They were actively surrounding me, one on each side, and Garreth just slightly ahead—as if some silent battle for proximity had been waged the moment we left the castle.

People were staring.

Not even subtly. Blatantly.

Students whispered behind their hands, their gazes flickering between Sebastian, Ominis, and Garreth, and then to me, their expressions ranging from confusion to amusement.

A group of fourth-years actually stopped in their tracks to gawk.

Madam Scribner, who had been exiting the library, arched a perfectly judgmental eyebrow before briskly continuing on her way.

Even a pair of passing professors paused.

“Are they—?”

“Three of them?”

“Oh, dear.”

Merlin help me.

Meanwhile, my traitorous friends were of no use at all.

Poppy and Everette? Lost in their own little world, walking close enough that their hands brushed every few steps.

Natty and Amit? Deep in an animated discussion about Astronomy charts, blissfully unaware of my current suffering.

Samantha?

Oh. She was arguing with Leander again.

Something about his absolute lack of tactical knowledge when it came to dueling?

I sighed.

Completely useless.

And then there was my personal problem.

Sebastian, Ominis, and Garreth.

The three-person hurricane that I had somehow, inexplicably, found myself caught in.

Sebastian walked on my left, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, his expression neutral but sharp. His presence was steady, grounding—but entirely too possessive.

Ominis was on my right, his cane tapping rhythmically against the path, his movements as graceful as ever. His jaw was set, but his posture was protective, close—but never too close.

And then there was Garreth.

Who had taken it upon himself to occasionally glance over his shoulder at me, his grin smug and entirely unrepentant for the chaos he had unleashed at breakfast.

“Sweets,” Garreth hummed, far too casual. “You seem tense. Do you need me to hold your hand?”

Sebastian and Ominis both stopped walking.

Which, in turn, meant I had to stop walking.

Which meant Garreth had planned this.

Oh. He was playing dirty.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You are insufferable.”

Sebastian scoffed. “You’re not actually expecting her to agree to that, are you?”

Ominis exhaled sharply, his tone as dry as the winter air. “I believe Weasley is under the impression that this is a competition.”

Garreth grinned. “What do you mean? This is absolutely a competition.”

Oh, for Merlin’s sake.

I pressed my fingers against my temples. “If I run, do you think I’ll make it to Honeydukes before any of you catch me?”

Sebastian tilted his head, thoughtful. “I’d give you five seconds before one of us drags you back.”

Ominis sighed. “Three, if it’s Sebastian.”

Garreth smirked. “One, if it’s me.”

I groaned.

Merlin save me.

These three.
_____

The air in Hogsmeade was crisp and cool, the scent of fresh parchment, butterbeer, and Honeydukes chocolate mingling in the breeze. The sun peeked through the clouds just enough to keep the chill from biting, making it the perfect day for mischief.

Not that I needed help in that department—I already had three suitors causing enough chaos for a lifetime.

The whole group was in high spirits as we made our way through the village, visiting our favorite haunts.

And, of course, my three suitors had somehow turned the entire day into an unspoken competition.

Merlin help me.

Scene 1: Honeydukes – The Battle of Sweet Gestures

The moment we entered Honeydukes, I knew I was doomed.

I should have run.

The second I stepped inside, Sebastian, Ominis, and Garreth all split up—each of them clearly plotting something.

I barely made it to the licorice wands before it started.

“Here, sweets.” Garreth suddenly appeared beside me, smirking as he handed me a beautifully wrapped box of chocolate truffles. “Sweet things for my sweet thing.”

Sebastian, who had just returned from the back shelves, paused mid-step.

Ominis, who had been casually browsing, suddenly looked as if he wanted to throw his cane at Garreth.

Oh no.

“Cute,” Sebastian said, his voice light but edged with something sharp. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small, elegantly wrapped package and placed it in my hands. “But I already got her favorites.”

I blinked, unfolding the packaging.

Inside was a perfectly arranged selection of dark chocolate caramels—my absolute favorite.

Damn him.

Garreth’s grin twitched slightly. “Oh? Is that how we’re playing it?”

Before I could intervene, Ominis stepped forward and held out a small bag of sugar quills. “I asked the shopkeeper which sweets were best for long study nights,” he said smoothly. “Since Jessa is clearly the most responsible student among us, I thought these would suit her best.”

I blinked.

Sebastian and Garreth turned to look at him in disbelief.

And that was how I ended up leaving Honeydukes with more sweets than I could possibly eat in a year.

Scene 2: Zonko’s – Absolute Disaster

Our next stop was Zonko’s, where Poppy, Natty, and Samantha quickly fled the moment they saw the three boys still locked in their silent battle.

Smart.

I, unfortunately, was not so lucky.

Garreth, predictably, was in his element, already plotting something devious.

Sebastian, to my horror, was actively helping him.

Ominis, meanwhile, was giving them both the most unimpressed expression I had ever seen.

“I will disown all of you,” Ominis muttered, crossing his arms as Garreth and Sebastian browsed the shelves of enchanted tricks like children let loose in a toy shop.

“Oh, come on,” Garreth said, throwing an arm around Ominis. “This is important. We’re trying to impress Jessa.”

Sebastian smirked. “With our superior prank selections.”

I groaned, already regretting every decision that had led me to this moment.

Within minutes, they had roped me into testing their pranks.

Which led to:

•Sebastian charming a Dungbomb to hover over Garreth’s head until he could properly apologize for an earlier joke.

•Garreth activating a Nose-Biting Teacup at the exact moment Sebastian tried to take a sip.

•Ominis pretending he had no part in any of this while somehow slipping a Fanged Frisbee into Garreth’s bag without him noticing.

•Me, ducking for cover, knowing full well that whatever happened next would only escalate.

Needless to say, we were all banned from Zonko’s for the rest of the day.

(And possibly the rest of the year.)

Scene 3: The Three Broomsticks – A Very Public Display of Chaos

By the time we reached The Three Broomsticks, I was exhausted.

The group piled into a booth, cramming together far too tightly, and of course, I ended up in my usual spot—sandwiched between Sebastian and Ominis.

Garreth, across from me, was smug as ever.

Samantha was still arguing with Leander over the merits of various dueling strategies.

Poppy and Everette were completely oblivious to the world.

Natty and Amit were sharing a butterbeer, both of them smiling far too fondly at each other.

It was a scene of absolute chaos.

And I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

Then, of course—the suitors resumed their battle.

“Jessa, try this,” Sebastian said smoothly, pushing his drink toward me. “I think you’d like it.”

I had barely lifted the mug before—

“No, try this one,” Garreth interrupted, sliding his butterbeer toward me. “Trust me, it’s better.”

Ominis, not to be outdone, calmly held out his own drink. “Actually, I asked the bartender for the best blend. You might like this more.”

I stared at all three mugs, then at them.

”…Are you all seriously competing over a butterbeer?”

Sebastian leaned forward. “No.”

Garreth smirked. “Yes.”

Ominis simply sipped his own drink and shrugged. “Possibly.”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

This was never going to end.

The sun was beginning to set as we started our walk back to the castle, our laughter still lingering in the air.

For all the chaos, for all the unbearable hovering, I couldn’t deny it.

Today had been good.

I fell into step beside Sebastian, glancing at him before lowering my voice.

“Anne will be with us soon.”

Sebastian stilled.

Then—a slow, warm smile.

A real one.

One that wasn’t cocky or teasing or sharp, but something genuine, something lighter than I had seen in a long time.

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes glinting with something close to relief. “She will be.”

For a moment, the world was still.

For a moment, it was just us, walking beneath the setting sun.

And for a moment, I let myself smile, too.