The Daughter of Valancaire

Jessa’s POV

The walk back to the castle had been peaceful—at least, as peaceful as it could be with three hovering suitors and an entire school whispering about the “Jessa Valancaire Courtship War.”

By the time we reached the entrance hall, we began parting ways with the group.

Natty and Amit disappeared together, muttering something about the Astronomy Tower.

Poppy and Everette exchanged a knowing glance before slipping off toward the Greenhouses.

Samantha, still pretending she wasn’t at all interested in Leander Prewett, mumbled something about “getting books from the library” before practically dragging him off in that direction.

Which—right.

They weren’t fooling anyone.

I turned, ready to say goodbye to Garreth—

And that was when he struck.

“See you later, sweets,” Garreth grinned, stepping forward and pressing a quick kiss against my cheek before I could even react.

I froze.

Sebastian stiffened.

Ominis’ grip on his wand tightened.

Garreth, being a menace to society, had already turned on his heel and—

He ran.

He ran for his life, cackling like a madman, weaving through the crowd before Sebastian could retaliate.

“GARRETH WEASLEY, YOU BLOODY—”

Sebastian lunged forward, but Ominis grabbed his sleeve just in time.

I barely managed to stifle my laughter, raising a hand to my cheek.

Garreth. Absolute madman.

I sighed and turned back to the two remaining men at my side.

Sebastian was still fuming.

Ominis, while visibly irritated, at least had the composure to pretend like it didn’t matter.

But we had no time for distractions.

We knew what we had to do.

The playful banter, the teasing, the ridiculous competition—it all fell away.

Because today was the day.

It was time.

We had all the ingredients.

We had all the knowledge.

And now—we were going to brew Anne’s cure.

Sebastian took a deep breath, shoving his frustration away.

Ominis adjusted his grip on his wand, expression steeled.

I gave them both a firm nod.

“Let’s go.”

And together, we turned toward the Room of Requirement—toward the moment that could change everything.
___

The air in the Room of Requirement felt different today.

The usual warmth and familiarity had been replaced by something heavier—a quiet pressure that settled into our bones, into the very air we breathed.

This had to work.

It needed to work.

We had spent weeks gathering the rarest ingredients, risking life and limb to retrieve them.

And now, they lay before us—six impossibly rare substances, each shimmering with their own unique energy, waiting to be transformed into something more.

Sebastian exhaled slowly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Ominis stood unnaturally still, his fingers resting against the rim of the cauldron, his usually steady presence now wound tight with tension.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their emotions pressing against me.

“Let’s start,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “No time to waste.”

They nodded, moving into position as I opened my book, carefully flipping to the page that held the precise instructions for brewing the Medimorfius Restorative.

We had one chance to get this right.

Step 1: The Foundation – Essentia Veritas Base

The first step was simple, yet the most important—creating the base that would bind the potion to Anne’s magic.

I uncorked the vial of Essentia Veritas—a shimmering, translucent liquid, faintly glowing gold.

“Steady hands,” I murmured, pouring it into the cauldron in a slow, continuous stream.

The moment the liquid touched the gently bubbling water, a ripple of blue light expanded outward, sinking into the potion like ink in water.

A sign that it had accepted the base.

Good.

We moved on.

Step 2: The Heart – Dragon’s Breath Resin & Frozen Mallowroot

Sebastian stepped forward, carefully holding a small glass vial.

Inside was the Dragon’s Breath Resin, a molten, golden substance that seemed to shimmer like living flame.

“One drop at a time,” I reminded him, my eyes locked onto his hands.

He nodded, exhaling sharply before tilting the vial.

One drop.

The potion flared violently, glowing red, as if fire had ignited beneath it.

Sebastian immediately reached for the Frozen Mallowroot, its pale blue petals preserved in a crystalline frost.

With careful precision, he crushed them between his fingers and let the icy powder fall into the cauldron.

The fire-like glow dimmed, shifting into a calmer, pale amber hue.

Sebastian’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though the tension in his jaw remained.

“Perfect,” I breathed. “Now the Phoenix Ash.”

Step 3: The Phoenix’s Gift

Ominis reached into a small black pouch, withdrawing a delicate pinch of fine, silver-gray powder.

Phoenix Ash.

The remnants of a creature reborn from its own destruction.

It was a rare substance, but more than that—it was a symbol of hope.

Ominis hesitated for just a moment, then let the ash drift into the cauldron.

The effect was instant.

The liquid shimmered, shifting through a spectrum of colors—from deep violet to bright gold, before settling into a gentle silver.

The potion hummed, a quiet sound reverberating through the room.

Magic.

Pure, ancient magic.

Ominis stepped back, his face carefully composed, but I could see the way his fingers trembled.

We were halfway there.

But the hardest part was still to come.

Step 4: Cleansing & Synchronization – Elderwood Infusion & Moonstone Core Essence

My turn.

I reached for the Elderwood Infusion—the very same ingredient we had nearly died retrieving from the Glen.

Its inky, violet liquid swirled inside the glass vial, pulsating faintly as if it were alive.

I took a breath.

And poured it in.

The reaction was instant and violent—a dark mist surged from the cauldron, spreading outward like smoke.

Sebastian cursed, stepping back.

Ominis gripped his wand, tilting his head slightly as if listening to the shift in magic.

I didn’t hesitate.

I grabbed the final ingredient—the Moonstone Core Essence—and carefully unsealed the container.

The liquid inside was pale blue, almost iridescent, and it pulsed faintly, synchronizing with the magic surrounding us.

I tipped it over, letting the final piece fall into place.

The mist immediately retracted, spiraling back into the cauldron like a breath inhaled.

And then—

Stillness.

The potion had turned a luminous shade of gold, its surface smooth, almost reflective.

The final stage.

The potion had accepted all the ingredients.

The Last Test – Did It Work?

For a long moment, none of us moved.

Sebastian’s hands were pressed into the table, his knuckles white.

Ominis’ breath was controlled, too controlled.

I realized I was holding my own breath.

And then—

The cauldron gave a single, slow pulse of magic.

The potion was complete.

I exhaled, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders.

Sebastian reached for a flask, his movements uncharacteristically careful. He dipped it into the cauldron, watching as the golden liquid swirled smoothly into the glass.

Ominis exhaled quietly, his grip on his wand finally loosening.

It was done.

Anne’s cure was real.

Now, all that was left…

Was to see if it worked.
___

The golden potion glowed softly in its flask, a quiet pulse of magic humming from within.

It was viable.

The potion had accepted every rare ingredient, every ounce of our magic and effort.

Now, we needed to do the final step.

The spell.

The one my grandfather had taught us with such severity, the one that could undo Anne’s curse by restoring the balance of her magic.

I turned to Sebastian.

“We need to perform the spell. Can you sneak Anne here?”

Sebastian’s brows furrowed. “Here?”

I nodded.

His jaw tightened slightly, his hesitation clear.

“Jessa, the Room of Requirement is safe, but this spell—this isn’t some simple healing charm.”** He gestured toward the cauldron.** “This is ancient magic. We don’t know what kind of strain it will put on Anne—or you.”

I understood his concern.

I felt it too.

But in that moment—everything became clear.

The new room.

The one the Room of Requirement had given us days ago, a space we had never seen before, one that had seemed almost too perfect.

A space that had felt like it was waiting for something.

Now I knew why.

The Room had known.

It had been preparing for this moment—for the spell, for Anne.

I turned, glancing at the archway that led to the hidden chamber.

The air inside that space had always felt different—a little heavier, filled with a strange kind of warmth, almost like an embrace.

I turned back to Sebastian.

“Yes,” I said firmly. “We’ll do it here.”

He studied me for a long moment.

Then, finally, he nodded.

“Alright.” His voice was quiet, but filled with determination. “I’ll get her.”

And with that, he left.

Ominis stepped closer, his expression unreadable.

“This is it,” he murmured. “No turning back now.”

I exhaled slowly, the weight of everything settling into my chest.

No turning back.

We were about to test the limits of what magic could do.

We were about to fight fate itself.

I clenched my hands into fists, steadying myself.

Anne was coming.

And we were going to save her.
___

I paced the room, my footsteps echoing softly against the enchanted stone floors.

Ominis did the same, though his movements were more controlled, his fingers lightly tapping against his wand with each measured step.

Waiting.

The tension sat like a weight on my chest, pressing deeper with every passing second.

This had to work.

It had to.

Ominis must have sensed my unease, because he suddenly spoke, his voice quiet but firm.

“It will, Jessa.”

I stilled.

Ominis, ever composed, ever rational, had no reason to say something he didn’t believe.

I turned to face him.

His posture was rigid, but his expression held no doubt.

“It will.”

Before I could respond, the door to the Room of Requirement swung open.

They were here.

Sebastian entered first, his presence immediate, grounding, and fiercely determined. His chestnut-brown eyes burned with purpose, his jaw set like he would fight the universe itself if he had to.

And behind him—

Anne.

She moved slowly, leaning slightly on her cane, her sapphire-blue eyes flickering with curiosity and wariness.

She took in the towering bookshelves, the warm golden glow of the torches, the endless possibilities hidden within this room of forgotten things.

“What is this place?” she asked, her voice soft but tinged with suspicion.

I felt my heart swell and twist at once.

It had been so long since I had seen her outside of Feldcroft. Since she had been anywhere but confined to her home, to a place where her illness dictated her life.

Seeing her here now—it felt right.

I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat and smiled.

“This is the Room of Requirement, Anne.” I gestured to the vast, ever-shifting space around us. “I’ll explain everything later, I promise—but right now, we need to talk about the spell.”

Anne’s gaze flickered to Sebastian, then back to me. “The spell?”

Sebastian stepped forward. “The cure, Anne.” His voice was steady, unwavering. “It’s ready.”

Her fingers tightened slightly around her cane.

For a moment, she just stood there, processing.

And then, she turned to me, her expression unreadable. “You’re saying… you can fix this?”

I met her gaze. “If you’re ready.”

She exhaled, something unreadable passing through her features.

And then—

She nodded.

“Alright.”

A single word, carrying the weight of years of suffering, of hope, of fear.

This was it.

We were going to save her.
___

We guided Anne into the new room, the one that had appeared days ago—the one that had felt like it was waiting for something.

The moment my foot touched the floor, a familiar sensation rippled through me.

The stone hummed, the magic alive beneath our feet, thrumming through the walls like a quiet heartbeat.

The Room had always known.

This space—it had been created for this exact moment.

Sebastian helped Anne ease onto the low stone bench at the center of the room, his hands gentle but steady as he guided her.

Ominis and I moved with careful precision, retrieving the flask of Medimorfius Restorative Potion.

Anne looked at it with careful skepticism, her fingers tightening around her cane.

I knelt beside her, my voice calm but firm.

“This potion was designed to prepare your body for the spell. It won’t cure you by itself, but it will begin the process—repairing what’s damaged, stabilizing your magic, restoring what’s been taken.”

She studied me for a long moment, then her gaze flickered to Sebastian, who was watching her with a quiet intensity that nearly broke my heart.

Finally, she nodded.

“Alright.”

I unsealed the flask and placed it in her hands.

With one last breath, Anne lifted the potion to her lips and drank.

The Reaction – The Magic Awakens

The moment Anne finished the last drop, a shiver ran through her.

Her fingers tensed around the empty flask, and she let out a sharp, startled breath.

Magic surged through her veins.

The effects were instant.

A pulse of light flickered beneath her skin, her veins glowing for just a moment—a faint, golden hue.

She gasped, gripping Sebastian’s sleeve.

“It’s working,” I murmured. “Your magic is reacting to it.”

Sebastian was completely still, his hand over Anne’s, his expression a mixture of desperation and hope.

Ominis reached for his wand, taking a steadying breath.

It was time.

We would perform the spell.

We had prepared for this.

Grandfather had trained us relentlessly, hammering the process into our minds until it became instinct.

His words echoed in my head.

“Medimorfius is not just a spell—it is a convergence of magic, a restoration of balance. It requires four things: precision, connection, sacrifice, and trust.”

Precision. If we miscast, even slightly, we could make the affliction worse.

Connection. Our magic had to be fully attuned to Anne’s, guiding hers back into alignment.

Sacrifice. The spell required a piece of ourselves, willingly given, to bridge the gap between the curse and the cure.

Trust. If even one of us hesitated, the spell would falter.

I turned to Sebastian and Ominis.

They knew.

They understood.

We could not fail.

I stepped forward, kneeling before Anne, placing my hand over her heart.

Ominis and Sebastian mirrored my movement—Sebastian’s hand on her right shoulder, Ominis’ hand just above her forearm.

We were all connected now.

Sebastian spoke first. His voice was low, steady, determined.

“Medimorfius.”

Ominis followed.

“Medimorfius.”

And then—me.

“Medimorfius.”

Magic rose between us, an invisible thread pulling at the air, crackling and humming with the power of the spell.

The room reacted, its magic entwining with ours, amplifying the incantation as golden runes glowed beneath our feet, circling Anne like an intricate web.

The spell pulled.

The curse resisted.

Anne shuddered violently, gasping as the magic wove around her.

I remembered Grandfather’s warning.

“She will resist. Not by choice, but because the curse will fight for survival. You must push through it.”

“Hold on, Anne,” I whispered, forcing my magic forward, locking onto hers, feeling it waver like a fragile thread.

Sebastian clenched his jaw, his fingers digging into his sister’s shoulder as he forced more magic into the spell, willing it to work.

Ominis’ breathing was controlled, but I could feel the sheer amount of magic he was pouring into the incantation.

And then—

Anne cried out, gripping Sebastian’s arm.

A black mist erupted from her body, curling and twisting, fighting against our magic.

Sebastian immediately tightened his hold. “No, you don’t—”

I gritted my teeth.

We had to keep going.

I focused, weaving the spell tighter, drawing the curse out.

The magic pulsed, bright and searing, like a heartbeat pounding against my skull.

“Don’t let go,” I gritted out. “She’s almost through—”

The Breaking Point – A Final Push

The magic surged higher, the golden runes shifting, the curse thrashing like a living thing.

And then—

A final crack.

The magic snapped into place.

The black mist let out a final, shrieking wail—

And then, it was gone.

Anne gasped, slumping forward, her body shaking.

The runes dimmed.

The spell was complete.

Sebastian caught her, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “Anne?”

Anne’s breath was unsteady, but then—she lifted her head.

And for the first time in years—

She wasn’t in pain.

Tears burned at the edges of Sebastian’s eyes as he cupped her face. “Anne, say something.”

She swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper—

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Sebastian let out a shaky breath.

And then—he pulled her into a crushing embrace, his shoulders shaking as he held her close.

Ominis and I staggered back, both of us exhausted, but overwhelmed with relief.

It had worked.

Anne Sallow was free.
__

For the first time in a long while, she wasn’t bound by pain.

She didn’t have to fight against something unseen, something that had stolen her freedom, her strength, her very life.

And yet, she was still here.

Still breathing.

Still whole.

Sebastian was still holding her, his arms wrapped tightly around his sister like if he let go, she might vanish.

Anne clutched at him just as fiercely, her fingers digging into his robes, her shoulders trembling against his.

Neither of them said anything.

They didn’t need to.

The only sound in the room was their uneven breathing, the quiet gasps of two souls who had spent years grasping at hope—only to finally, finally hold it in their hands.

Sebastian pulled back, just enough to look at her, his eyes red-rimmed but burning with a desperate kind of relief.

“Does it still hurt?” His voice cracked, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

Anne exhaled, slow and measured.

Then, she lifted her hands—flexing her fingers, pressing them over her arms, her chest.

She blinked, as if waiting for the familiar ache, for the weakness, for the sensation of magic resisting her body.

But it didn’t come.

She swallowed hard, looking at him. “No,” she whispered, like she couldn’t believe it herself.

Sebastian let out a shaky laugh, a breathless, broken sound that barely masked the way his entire body was trembling.

His hands cupped her face, his forehead pressing against hers, his breath uneven.

“It worked,” he choked out. “Merlin, Anne, it worked.”

Anne let out something between a sob and a laugh, her fingers gripping his sleeves like he was the only thing keeping her tethered to the world.

And then—her eyes flickered past him.

To me.

She stared at me for a long moment, her chestnut-brown eyes—Sebastian’s eyes—wide and full of something I couldn’t quite name.

I felt my breath catch.

And then, Anne moved.

Before I could even react, she was in front of me, and then—

She hugged me.

I froze.

For a single, stunned second, I just stood there, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Then—my body moved on instinct, my arms wrapping around her in return.

Anne held onto me tightly, like she was afraid to let go, like if she loosened her grip, this would all disappear.

Her voice was muffled against my shoulder, but I could hear the raw emotion in it.

“Thank you.”

It was barely a whisper.

A single, fragile thing, yet it carried the weight of years of suffering, of hope she had nearly lost.

I felt something break in my chest.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my own breath catching as I pulled her closer.

“You don’t have to thank me,” I whispered back, my voice unsteady. “I—I just wanted to help.”

Anne pulled back, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her expression torn between grief, relief, and something overwhelming.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You don’t understand.”

Her hands grasped mine, holding them between us as she blinked rapidly, struggling to find the words.

“You gave me back my life.”

My throat closed up.

“I thought—” Anne’s voice cracked, and she shook her head. “I thought I was going to die like that. That there was no cure. That it was too late.”

She sucked in a shaky breath, her fingers clutching at my hands like I was something fragile but precious, something she wasn’t willing to let go of.

“But you never gave up. You—you gave me hope again.”

I couldn’t speak.

My vision blurred as my own tears welled up, spilling over before I could stop them.

Anne let out a choked laugh, sniffing as she wiped at her own tears.

“You saved me.”

I shook my head, trying to find the right words, trying to tell her she wasn’t alone, that I hadn’t done this just for her, that I had done this because she mattered, because I had wanted her to have a future.

But the words never came.

Because suddenly, Sebastian was there too.

Sebastian’s Breaking Point

He had been standing behind Anne, watching us, listening.

But something in him must have finally snapped, because before I knew it—

Sebastian pulled me into him.

It wasn’t like before.

This wasn’t the teasing, smug Sebastian who made the world bend to his charm.

This wasn’t the confident boy who acted like he had everything under control.

This was a boy who had spent years fighting an unwinnable war—who had watched his sister waste away, who had felt helpless for so long, who had nearly destroyed himself trying to save her.

And now—she was standing, whole, alive.

And I had helped him do the impossible.

Sebastian’s arms wrapped around me so tightly I almost couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t care.

His fingers curled into my cloak, gripping it like a lifeline, like he was trying to hold himself together.

I felt him shake.

I felt his breath stutter against my shoulder.

And then—

I felt him cry.

Not loudly. Not in sobs.

But in quiet, broken gasps, the kind that barely made a sound.

The kind that came from someone who had spent so long carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders that he didn’t know what it felt like to set it down.

“Jessa,” he murmured, and it wasn’t gratitude, it wasn’t a plea—it was something else entirely.

It was everything he couldn’t say.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my hands clutching the back of his robes as my own tears fell freely.

And then—Anne turned.

Her gaze fell on Ominis.

She stepped toward him, her voice soft but sure.

“Ominis, I—” She hesitated, shaking her head. “I never thought—”

She exhaled, then did something that startled all of us.

She reached for him.

Her hands found his, gently pulling them forward, cradling them between her own.

Ominis went completely still.

Anne swallowed thickly. “I don’t know if I ever properly thanked you.”

Ominis’ lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but no words came.

She squeezed his hands. “You were always there. Even when things got worse.”

A flicker of emotion crossed Ominis’ face, his grip tightening around hers.

“I would do it all again,” he said quietly. “A hundred times over.”

Anne let out a watery laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know.”

And then, to my utter shock and horror, Anne pulled Ominis into a hug.

I swore I saw his soul leave his body.

Sebastian, still holding me, let out a weak laugh. “She’s hugging you, mate. Just accept your fate.”

Ominis muttered something about “not being prepared for this level of affection” but he didn’t pull away.

And as I stood there, wrapped in Sebastian’s embrace, watching Anne smiling for the first time in years—

I knew.

Everything had been worth it.

___

The weight of the moment still lingered, thick and heavy like the last remnants of a summer storm.

Sebastian had barely let go of me.

Anne was smiling—truly smiling—for the first time in years, but her hands still trembled slightly, as if her body was adjusting to the sheer absence of pain.

Ominis stood nearby, his posture relaxed, but his sharp ears were still keenly attuned to every little movement Anne made, as if expecting something to go wrong.

We needed to breathe.

We needed tea.

I guided Anne into the larger sitting area of the Room of Requirement, where the soft golden light flickered against the ancient bookshelves, the enchanted windows giving a view of whatever scenery the room wanted to conjure.

As I led her toward the center table, the tea set was already prepared, as if the Room itself had anticipated our need for warmth and comfort.

I wasn’t even surprised at this point.

Anne’s gaze drifted around the room, wonder settling into her features.

“This place…” she murmured, running her fingers lightly along the edge of an old oak desk. “It’s incredible.”

I smiled. “It is. It gives you what you need.”

Sebastian and Ominis both took their usual places near me—Sebastian sitting on my left, Ominis standing near my right. It was a habit at this point, as if my suitors were both permanent fixtures in this room.

Anne noticed.

Oh. She noticed.

I watched as her gaze flickered between them, her lips twitching slightly.

She said nothing—for now.

I poured her tea, pretending not to see the subtle smirk forming on her lips.

I was not ready for whatever mischief was brewing in that brain of hers.

Once we had all settled, I guided Anne toward the farthest part of the room—the vivarium where the baby phoenix resided.

The small, fiery creature perked up the moment we approached, its golden-red feathers ruffling as it chirped excitedly.

Anne gasped softly, enchanted.

“A phoenix,” she whispered in awe, lowering herself to sit near the small nest. “Jessa, you didn’t tell me you had a pet phoenix.”

I grinned. “It’s not a pet—more of a stubborn little companion.”

Sebastian scoffed. “Stubborn is putting it lightly.”

Ominis sighed. “It has opinions, that’s for certain.”

Anne giggled, gently holding out a hand.

To our shock, the phoenix hopped forward, nuzzling against her palm.

Sebastian’s mouth fell open. “I—what? He doesn’t even let me touch him!”

Ominis smirked. “Looks like he prefers Anne. Good taste.”

Anne stroked the phoenix’s warm feathers, smiling as it let out a happy trill.

Then—her eyes flickered back to me.

And I knew.

I knew.

Something dangerous was about to leave her mouth.

“So, Jessa.”

I tensed. ”…Yes?”

Anne tilted her head, her smile turning mischievous.

“When I come back to Hogwarts, you said I can come and go from here whenever I please, right?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

She hummed, then cast a meaningful glance at Sebastian and Ominis.

“Are you sure, Jess?”

Something felt wrong.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.

Ominis straightened, sensing the shift in tone.

I frowned. “Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Anne smirked. “Well, I wouldn’t want to intrude on your… privacy.”

Silence.

I blinked.

Sebastian’s brain visibly stopped functioning.

Ominis’ grip tightened on his wand.

Then, I felt the heat creeping up my neck.

Oh no.

Anne was smirking at me like a cat that had just cornered a mouse.

I opened my mouth—but no words came out.

Sebastian, still trying to reboot his mind, cleared his throat.

Ominis, on the other hand—

“Don’t make me hex you after we just healed you,” he muttered, face bright red.

Anne laughed.

“I’m just saying,” she mused, sipping her tea as if she hadn’t just emotionally devastated all of us, “with the way they’ve been hovering over you, I imagine you’d appreciate some… alone time.”

Sebastian let out an offended noise.

“I beg your pardon?”

Ominis just buried his face in his hands.

I wanted to evaporate.

Anne, clearly having the time of her life, grinned.

“You know, she has a point,” Sebastian mused suddenly, his smirk returning as he leaned back in his chair. “We do spend a lot of time here.”

Ominis lifted his head just to glare at him.

Anne raised an eyebrow. “And you two don’t mind sharing?”

The room fell into absolute silence.

Sebastian and Ominis stiffened.

I choked on air.

Anne’s grin widened. “Interesting.”

“I regret curing you,” Ominis muttered.

Anne laughed so hard she nearly knocked over her tea.

The Aftermath

Once the chaos had settled, Anne finally stretched, sighing contentedly.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she murmured, running a hand through her hair, “but I’m excited to be back at Hogwarts.”

Sebastian’s expression softened immediately.

“You’ll be safe here,” he promised. “No more pain. No more worrying.”

Anne met his gaze, something warm in her expression. “I know.”

I smiled. “And when you do, you’ll always have this place.”

Anne glanced around the room, taking in its quiet warmth, the flickering candlelight, the soft hum of lingering magic.

She exhaled softly.

“Thank you.”

Ominis, still recovering from her earlier teasing, huffed. “Just don’t barge in at inconvenient times.”

Anne smirked. “No promises.”

I groaned.

Sebastian just laughed.

Anne was back.

And she was going to make my life hell.

But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
__

Anne and Sebastian stood at the threshold of the Room of Requirement, preparing to leave.

Anne was still beaming, practically glowing with renewed life.

“We have to tell Uncle Solomon,” she said, shifting her weight on her feet, as if she still couldn’t believe how easy it was to move without pain. “I want him to see that I’m fine now. That I can come back to Hogwarts.”

Sebastian, ever the doting brother, stayed close, as if still half-expecting the curse to return and steal her away again.

I smiled. “Well, I suppose that means I’ll have some competition in Professor Binns’ class now.”

Anne let out a mock gasp, placing a hand over her heart.

“Professor Binns? You mean to tell me you’ve been monopolizing his attention all this time?”

Sebastian scoffed. “Please. She’s his favorite ghost hunter. I think he actually looks forward to arguing with her.”

We laughed, the sound warm and light, easing the last remaining weight in the air.

Anne pulled me into a tight hug before stepping toward Ominis and doing the same, despite his startled flinch.

He let out a resigned sigh, patting her shoulder. “You’ve truly lost your mind, haven’t you?”

Anne grinned. “You’ll live, Ominis. Or… maybe you won’t. I could haunt you, you know.”

He frowned. “If you do, I will personally arrange an exorcism.”

She cackled.

Sebastian sighed dramatically, pulling her away. “Alright, that’s enough. Let’s go before you start plotting ways to torment Ominis for the rest of the school year.”

But before he left, he turned back to us.

His expression darkened slightly, but not with anger—with warning.

“And the two of you,” he said slowly, “don’t do anything I’ll have to hex you for.”

I rolled my eyes, “Oh yes, because that threat has always worked before.”

Ominis smirked. “How terrifying.”

Sebastian glared.

Anne just snorted, tugging at his sleeve. “Come on, overprotective menace. We have an uncle to annoy.”

With that, they left.

And for the first time in what felt like years—

I let out a breath.

A huge weight lifted from my chest.

One task done.

The memories—the ones I had seen in the Pensieve, the ones that haunted me—

Anne’s grave.

Sebastian spiraling into darkness.

Ominis broken, left behind.

They would not happen anymore.

I had changed one of the memories.

The thought was overwhelming.

I stumbled slightly, my body sagging as I let myself feel the exhaustion.

And of course—Ominis noticed.

A Knight & His Damsel

“Are you alright, my damsel?”

His voice was soft, teasing, but there was an undercurrent of concern.

I lifted my head to meet his gaze, his pale blue eyes unreadable but piercing, as if he could see right through me.

I exhaled, shaking my head lightly.

“Much better now that Anne is cured,” I murmured.

A small smile touched my lips.

“We did it, my knight.”

Ominis hummed, stepping closer, his presence suddenly all-consuming.

His hand lifted slowly, deliberate, fingers brushing lightly over my arm before ghosting up toward my jaw.

The touch was barely there—a whisper of warmth against my skin.

My breath hitched.

“We did,” he echoed, voice lower now.

I could see the way his jaw tensed, the way his fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to hold me properly.

It sent a thrill up my spine.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

The air between us shifted, deepened, charged with something heavy and electric.

His fingers finally found my chin, tilting it up slightly, his expression unreadable but undeniably intense.

“What are you thinking about, Jessa?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I could feel my pulse pounding beneath my skin.

Him.

The way he touched me like I was something to be carefully unraveled.

The way his presence felt like a spell weaving itself around me.

The fact that I wanted him to kiss me.

But I smirked instead, forcing some semblance of control into my voice.

“That my knight has very bold hands,” I teased, my tone light, but my voice too breathless to sound casual.

Ominis let out a quiet chuckle, his thumb skimming the line of my jaw before pulling away completely.

The loss of warmth made me shiver.

“And my damsel has very dangerous lips,” he murmured, his smirk unmistakable.

I swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of how close we still were.

His breath was warm against my cheek, his presence all-encompassing.

The heat between us was palpable.

If either of us moved even slightly—

The door swung open.

“I forgot my bloody—”

Sebastian.

I nearly jumped a foot into the air.

Ominis, to his credit, barely twitched.

Sebastian, however, narrowed his eyes immediately.

I could see his brain working at rapid speed, taking in our proximity, my flustered expression, the tension still lingering in the air.

Oh no.

His eyes darkened dangerously.

“What,” he said slowly, “exactly did I just interrupt?”

Ominis, the menace, simply smirked.

“Nothing you’ll want to hear about, I assure you.”

Sebastian’s hand twitched toward his wand.

I sighed, rubbing my temples.

I had just saved the Sallow family.

And yet, somehow, I was about to die.

Sebastian’s chestnut-brown eyes burned into me, his expression dark and far too suspicious for my liking.

I felt a drop of sweat roll down the back of my neck.

Oh no.

“Nothing, Sebastian,” I said quickly, my voice too innocent to be believed.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.

“Really?” he drawled, crossing his arms, his gaze flickering between me and Ominis. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like you were ‘just talking’ really close.”

My lips parted in protest, but nothing came out.

I needed to dilute this immediately.

Before Sebastian exploded into a jealous, overprotective tirade—or worse—tried to duel Ominis in the middle of the Room of Requirement.

Anne, still standing behind him, was watching with gleeful amusement, barely holding in her giggles.

Traitor.

Sebastian suddenly straightened, eyes sharp with a terrible idea.

“Alright,” he said, far too smugly. “You’re coming with me, Ominis.”

”…What?”

Ominis’ voice was flat, unimpressed, already preparing to argue.

Sebastian smirked. “You heard me. You’re coming with me to Feldcroft.”

Ominis scoffed. “Why, exactly?”

Sebastian gave him a pointed look.

“Because I don’t trust you with her.”

I groaned.

“Sebastian—”

“Nope. Don’t want to hear it,” he cut me off, his arms still crossed. “You’ve already stayed in Feldcroft before, Ominis. You’ve slept at our house plenty of times. What’s one more night?”

Ominis groaned.

“Merlin’s sake, Sebastian—”

“I don’t trust you,” Sebastian repeated, glaring at him. “Come with us, or I’ll hex you.”

Ominis’ nostrils flared.

Anne, at this point, was nearly doubled over in laughter.

“I—” Ominis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. If it will shut you up.”

Sebastian smirked triumphantly.

And then—Ominis did the one thing that sent Sebastian spiraling all over again.

He grabbed my hand.

And he kissed it.

I barely had time to react before—

“OH FOR MERLIN’S SAKE—”

Sebastian’s exasperated groan echoed across the entire bloody room.

I couldn’t help it.

I laughed.

“Sebastian, really—”

“No, no, I’ve had enough,” Sebastian grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “He’s taunting me on purpose, I just know it.”

“Oh, I definitely am,” Ominis murmured, smirking as he released my hand.

Sebastian glared at him.

I sighed, exasperated.

“Fine,” I said, grabbing Sebastian’s collar and pulling him down just enough to press a kiss to his cheek.

The smugness immediately vanished from his face.

He froze, blinking rapidly, clearly not expecting that.

I pulled away, grinning.

“Go, you menace,” I teased.

Sebastian stared at me, flustered and temporarily speechless.

Ominis, ever composed, looked entirely too pleased with himself.

Anne, still wiping tears from her eyes from laughing too much, let out a delighted sigh.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” she mused, smiling in amusement.

I turned to her, suspicion creeping in.

“Anne—”

She grinned at me, mischievous and far too entertained.

“I think I’ve found my new favorite hobby,” she said innocently.

“What hobby?” I asked warily.

“You and your suitors.”

My stomach dropped.

I had another Samantha.

Merlin help me.
___

The Room of Requirement was empty.

Sebastian, Ominis, and Anne had left, and for the first time in what felt like years, I was truly alone.

And yet—for the first time in a long time, I felt light.

The weight of Anne’s suffering was gone. The memory of Sebastian mourning at her grave—rewritten, undone.

One task was complete.

But my journey wasn’t over.

It was time to go back to Valancaire Keep.

I braced myself the moment I stepped through the portal, expecting the usual barrage of attacks that my grandfather loved to use as a “welcome home” test.

But there was nothing.

No sudden spells. No flying daggers or illusion traps.

Instead—he was waiting for me.

Standing by the entrance of the grand, cold halls, his hands clasped behind his back, his icy blue eyes unreadable.

For a moment, I was unnerved.

He simply gestured me forward.

No words. Just an unspoken command.

I followed him into the library, where the tall bookshelves towered like sentinels, the only sound the flickering of candlelight and the distant hum of magic that pulsed through the keep’s walls.

I had a feeling this conversation would be different from all the others before it.

Before he could speak, I took a breath and said, “Grandfather… thank you.”

His brow lifted slightly. “For?”

“For writing to the headmaster. For excusing me, Sebastian, and Ominis from classes.”

He hummed. “It would have been idiotic to allow your education to suffer.”

I smiled slightly. “Still. It was thoughtful.”

He didn’t respond, but I caught the flicker of approval in his gaze before he turned away.

Then, his expression shifted, sharpening.

“The cure. Did it work?”

I straightened. “Yes. Thanks to your teachings. The potion, the spell… everything worked perfectly.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, scanning me as if trying to assess whether I had changed in the process.

Then, he nodded once. “Good.”

And then, he said something that made my breath catch.

“You are nearing the end of your training.”

I swallowed.

“Your magic is controlled. Your stamina has improved. Your skill in dueling has never been a concern—you inherited your father’s talent for combat.”

A familiar warmth bloomed in my chest at that.

But then—

His gaze hardened.

“But you have your mother’s emotion.”

I went still.

Because I knew what that meant.

My grandfather had never spoken kindly about my mother.

I had heard the whispers—how he thought she was scandalous, that she lacked the dignity of a Valancaire.

And yet, she was not even his daughter.

My mother had married into this family.

She was not of Valancaire blood.

And yet, she had always been the target of his disapproval.

Why?

I looked at him carefully.

“Why exactly did you not like my mother?” I asked, voice steady.

His expression remained unreadable.

“The others say it was because you thought her scandalous. That she was… improper.”

He said nothing.

I took a slow breath.

“But I don’t think it’s that shallow, Grandfather.”

Silence.

And then—he sighed.

“No, Jessa,” he said at last, his voice quieter. “It was never that simple.”

He walked toward the massive oak desk, his fingers brushing over the ancient books stacked there.

Then, finally, he turned to face me fully.

“Your mother,” he began, “was not supposed to survive.”

I felt a chill down my spine.

“What?”

He exhaled slowly.

“She was not supposed to exist in your father’s life. And yet, she did.”

The air in the library felt thick.

His blue eyes pinned me in place, unwavering.

“You are the only surviving daughter of the Valancaire bloodline.”

I already knew that.

But then—his next words made my blood run cold.

“And she—your mother—was the first woman to bear a living Valancaire daughter in centuries.”

I felt my stomach twist.

“I don’t understand.”

He was silent for a long moment.

Then—he spoke carefully, deliberately.

“The Valancaire bloodline has only ever produced sons. The magic within us—our gifts, our legacy—was never meant for daughters. Every attempt to bring a daughter into this family before you…”

He paused.

“Ended in death.”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

I had heard the whispers.

The Daughters of Valancaire, the ones who had never lived.

Born but never breathing.

Stillborn.

Lost before they could take their first steps.

But I had survived.

And my mother—a woman not of Valancaire blood—was the one who had carried me.

She defied a curse older than any of us.

I let out a slow breath.

“So, you hated her for surviving?” I asked, my voice sharp.

His eyes darkened. “No.”

A long silence stretched between us.

Then, finally, he said, “I feared her.”

I blinked.

“Feared her?”

He nodded. “Your mother… changed our bloodline. She was never supposed to carry a Valancaire heir. And yet, she did.”

His jaw clenched. “It was unnatural. It was unprecedented. It was…”

He trailed off, his blue eyes stormy.

And for the first time, I saw something in them that I had never seen before.

Not anger.

Not disappointment.

But fear.

I exhaled. “You think she changed the course of our magic.”

He was silent.

That was enough of an answer.

I shook my head.

“You thought she was reckless,” I murmured. “Because she changed something you couldn’t control.”

His lips pressed into a thin line.

I took a slow step forward.

“My mother is one of the strongest witches I know.”

His eyes flickered. “That, I do not doubt.”

“And you think her love for my father made her weak?”

His gaze flickered again.

“No,” he admitted at last. “I think it made her dangerous.”

My heart pounded.

Because this was the truth of it.

This was the reason why he had always dismissed my mother, why he had always watched me so carefully.

Not because he disliked her.

But because she had changed something about the Valancaire bloodline that he never understood.

Because she had done the impossible.

Because she had given birth to me.

And suddenly, I understood.

My mother was not a mistake.

She was a force of nature.
__

The weight of my grandfather’s words settled over me like a storm rolling in, heavy and inescapable.

I watched him carefully, searching his face, his tone—anything that might reveal more than the cold, measured words he had spoken.

And then—

“When you slept, I blamed her.”

His voice was quiet, but there was a sharp edge beneath it, something old and raw.

“I blamed your mother. And your father.”

The breath caught in my throat.

He wasn’t looking at me. His gaze was fixed somewhere past the bookshelves, past the candlelight—somewhere in a memory I could not see.

“I should have been the one to keep you here,” he murmured. “To stabilize your magic. To keep you from slipping away.”

His fists clenched behind his back.

“But she cared too much.”

The words were not cruel.

They were spoken like a confession.

“I understand now.”****“That is why we have become estranged.”

I inhaled slowly, steadying myself.

The Pensieve memories flickered in my mind—the look on my parents’ faces when I fell into my seven-year sleep, the way my mother had held me, the way my father had raged against a fate he couldn’t control.

And my grandfather…

I had never seen his grief, never seen his regret.

But now, standing before me, I saw something else.

Guilt.

A different kind of pain.

I swallowed.

“She did what she thought was right,” I said quietly. “Just as you did.”

His jaw tightened.

And then—

“You see now why I told you to never use your heart.”

His voice was firm, unwavering.

My chest tightened.

“You become selfish and selfless at the same time.”

I opened my mouth to protest—but the words died before they could form.

Because deep down… I knew he was right.

I had been reckless before.

I had been willing to burn everything down for the people I cared about.

And I would do it again.

He knew it.

And so did I.

The Truth of Love

I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to meet his gaze head-on.

His blue eyes were piercing, sharp like a blade, and yet… for the first time, there was something else.

Something soft.

Something knowing.

“I see how you look at those boys, Jessa.”

The world tilted slightly.

I went rigid.

“I see how they look at you.”

My stomach twisted violently.

I clenched my fists, fighting the sudden warmth creeping up my neck.

“Grandfather—”

“I know what you will do for them,” he continued, his voice steady. “And I know what they would do for you.”

I couldn’t breathe.

Because I knew what he meant.

I had been willing to do the impossible for them.

I had risked everything to help Anne.

I had braved the Glen, fought an Elderwood tree, nearly lost myself in the shadows.

For them.

And they—

I felt my heartbeat pounding against my ribs.

“It is the same thing,” my grandfather said quietly, “that I would have done for your grandmother.”

I froze.

The weight of his words settled into my bones.

My grandmother.

The woman I had never met.

The one whose name was barely spoken in these halls.

I searched his expression, but he gave nothing away.

And yet—I knew.

I knew he had loved her.

The kind of love that went beyond legacy, beyond blood, beyond duty.

The kind that had made him understand something he had once tried to reject.

“You understand now,” I said softly.

His eyes flickered.

A long silence stretched between us.

Then, finally—

“Perhaps.”

A single word.

But it was enough.

It was an admission.

A quiet acknowledgment of what I was, of what I could be.

I took a slow breath, my heart still racing.

Because I knew now.

I was not a mistake.

I was not a weakness.

I was the proof that love—no matter how reckless, no matter how dangerous—was still powerful.

And for the first time, I saw my grandfather not as the man who had always tried to shape me into something stronger, something colder.

But as a man who had once loved.

And who had, in his own way, never truly stopped.
__

I inhaled slowly, my mind still reeling from everything my grandfather had told me.

Everything I thought I understood about him—about his disapproval of my mother, about his coldness—had shifted.

There was still so much I did not know.

And so, I asked.

“Tell me more about my grandmother.”

For the first time in my life, I saw hesitation cross his face.

His blue eyes, always sharp and piercing, dimmed slightly.

Then, he exhaled.

“Your grandmother was exactly like your mother.”****“She had too much love.”

The words were spoken softly, but they carried the weight of something heavy, something painful.

“I loved her too much.”

His voice was low now, quieter than before.

And for the first time, I saw him as something more than just my grandfather.

I saw a man who had once been in love.

A man who had lost everything.

A Daughter Lost

He turned away slightly, his gaze distant.

“When she bore our daughter, I was happy.”****“And I was terrified.”

His jaw tightened.

“She was the first Valancaire daughter in generations. The first… to live.”

My stomach twisted violently.

I didn’t move.

I barely breathed.

I knew this story did not have a happy ending.

His voice was low, almost hollow.

“And then she died.”

The air felt thick, suffocating.

“Three months after she was born.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

Another daughter of Valancaire, lost.

Like the voices I had heard in the Glen.

Like the others before me.

I swallowed. “Grandfather…”

His face was unreadable, but I could see the way his hands clenched behind his back.

“Your grandmother could not accept it.”

The Descent Into Darkness

The silence between us stretched too long, too thick.

And then—

“She delved into the Dark Arts to bring her back.”

I gasped.

My blood turned cold.

The words felt like a blade cutting through the air.

“She—she tried to bring her back?” I whispered.

His gaze was unforgiving, his voice steady.

“Yes.”

I felt my stomach churn, my hands gripping the fabric of my robes as I tried to process what he was telling me.

“We, the Valancaires, have never supported the Dark Arts,” he said, his voice sharper now, as if reaffirming something he had sworn long ago.

“I tried to stop her.”

The candlelight flickered violently, the air between us charged with something dark, something unspoken.

“But it was too late.”

His voice was flat, but beneath it, there was something else.

Something raw.

Something that had not been spoken aloud in decades.

“The Dark Arts consumed her.”

And it took her.

I shivered.

Because I knew.

I knew.

It was something that could have happened to Sebastian.

If Ominis and I had not stopped him.

If I had not dragged him away from the depths of his grief, from the obsession that had nearly swallowed him whole.

The Parallels of Fate

My mind reeled, my heart thundering violently in my chest.

Because the parallel was terrifying.

A woman who could not accept the loss of someone she loved.

A woman who turned to forbidden magic in desperation.

A woman who was consumed by it.

Sebastian…

Sebastian had been on the same path.

The Relic.

His obsession with curing Anne.

The look in his eyes when he told me, over and over again, that he would do anything.

That he would burn the world down if it meant saving her.

And had we not stopped him…

Had I not pulled him from the edge of his own devastation…

He might have been lost too.

Just like my grandmother.

A Future Not Yet Written

I let out a shaky breath.

“That is why you feared my mother,” I murmured.

He said nothing.

But his silence was answer enough.

He had seen history repeating.

He had seen my mother’s capacity to love—her willingness to do anything for those she cared for.

And he had been terrified that she would do the same thing.

That she would follow my grandmother’s path.

That she, too, would be consumed.

And now, standing before him—his granddaughter, the only Valancaire daughter to survive…

He saw it in me too.

I inhaled sharply.

“Grandfather,” I said slowly, my voice steady. “I am not her.”

He studied me carefully.

I lifted my chin.

“I will not be consumed by my love.”

His gaze bored into mine, searching.

And then, finally—

He nodded once.

“See that you don’t.”

The weight of our conversation still lingered in the air, like the last echoes of a storm.

The things my grandfather had told me—about my grandmother, about her fall into the Dark Arts—left a shadow in my mind that I could not shake.

It was too close.

Too similar to Sebastian’s path.

And yet, my grandfather did not dwell on it further.

He turned on his heel, his posture rigid as ever, and simply gestured for me to follow.

“Enough of sentiment,” he said. “Your lesson begins now.”

The Study of Dark Wizards

We entered the training hall, the vast chamber where I had spent countless hours pushing myself to my limits under his watchful gaze.

But this time, it was not my magic or stamina that would be tested.

Today’s lesson was something far more insidious.

A lesson on Dark Wizards.

I should have expected it.

He knew.

He knew I had already encountered them.

I had seen their cruelty firsthand.

And yet, he was not satisfied.

“You have fought them,” my grandfather began, pacing slowly, his voice echoing against the cold stone walls. “But have you understood them?”

I tensed. “What is there to understand? They crave power. They kill for it.”

He stopped walking.

His sharp blue eyes locked onto mine.

“That is the mistake you will not make.”

I clenched my fists. “I don’t see how it’s a mistake to see them as monsters.”

His expression remained unreadable.

“Because monsters are easy to defeat,” he said evenly. “Men are not.”

My breath caught.

“Dark Wizards are not creatures of instinct, Jessa.” His voice was cool, unwavering. “They are not mindless beasts driven only by hunger.”

He took a step closer, eyes boring into mine.

“They are men. And men—” he lifted a hand, flexing his fingers slightly, ”—are far more dangerous.”

Understanding the Enemy

He turned away, and with a simple flick of his fingers, a row of books floated from the shelves, landing in a neat stack on the stone table beside us.

I recognized some of the names.

Some of these were historical accounts of famous Dark Wizards—not just the ones I had heard about at Hogwarts, but those who had been buried in forgotten records.

Wizards whose names were erased, not honored.

My grandfather gestured toward them.

“Tell me, Jessa,” he said. “What do they all have in common?”

I frowned, flipping open the nearest book.

The first page I saw was an old, worn portrait of Morgana Le Fay.

The next—Herpo the Foul.

The third—Loxias, the infamous master of the Elder Wand.

I ran my fingers over the parchment, scanning through their histories, their crimes.

And then—

I saw it.

It struck me like a blade, slicing through every assumption I had made.

“They were all brilliant,” I murmured, realization dawning.

My grandfather gave a small, approving nod.

“Yes.”

I swallowed. “They were not just powerful. They were scholars, strategists, innovators.”

“Precisely.”

My fingers tightened on the pages.

“That’s what makes them terrifying,” I said softly. “They weren’t just cruel—they were clever.”

“Clever enough,” my grandfather agreed, “to believe they were untouchable.”

He walked toward the large silver basin in the center of the room, one I had never seen before.

A different kind of Pensieve.

A Valancaire one.

His hand hovered over the shimmering surface.

“Let me show you,” he said. “Not just their power. But their mistakes.”

The Memories of Dark Wizards

The air shuddered around me as the magic of the Pensieve awakened.

And then—

The world shifted.

I was no longer in the training hall.

I was standing in another time, another place.

And before me, a man knelt on the floor, his face twisted in horror.

A wizard—one who had once been feared.

And yet, here he was, powerless.

My grandfather’s voice echoed around me.

“This is what Dark Wizards fail to understand.”

The kneeling wizard gasped, clutching at his chest. “Please—”

A second figure loomed over him.

A second Dark Wizard.

One who had once been his ally.

“They do not share power, Jessa.”

The standing wizard lifted his wand, and in a single moment—

The man on the floor was dead.

I felt my breath hitch.

“Dark Wizards do not build legacies.”

Another memory, another time.

A powerful sorceress, standing on a throne made of wands she had stolen.

And yet—her own men betrayed her.

She fell.

“They do not build empires that last.”

Another shift—

A Dark Lord, known for his strength, executed by the very kingdom he sought to rule.

“They are consumed by their own ambition. They turn on each other. And in the end, they always fall.”

The vision collapsed, pulling me back to the present.

I stumbled slightly, the rush of memories fading.

The library came back into focus.

I turned to my grandfather, my mind still reeling.

He studied me, waiting for me to speak.

I swallowed hard. “So their weakness is… themselves.”

His lips twitched into something close to a smirk.

“Exactly.”

A Warning and a Truth

My heartbeat was still uneven.

I had spent so much time thinking of Dark Wizards as monsters—as something to be fought with raw strength, with magic.

But now, I understood.

They were not creatures.

They were men.

And men, no matter how powerful, were still fragile.

Still flawed.

Still bound to their own greed, their own desperation.

I exhaled. “And that’s why you wanted me to understand them.”

My grandfather nodded.

“It is not enough to fight them,” he said. “You must outthink them. You must know what will make them destroy themselves.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“And you, Jessa—” he paused. “You must never become one of them.”

I stiffened. “I wouldn’t—”

“No,” he interrupted, “not in the way you think.”

His gaze was piercing.

“You love too deeply, Jessa.”

I swallowed.

“You would sacrifice yourself for those you love. You would risk everything.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

“And that,” he said, his voice low, “is exactly what a Dark Wizard would use against you.”

Silence.

The weight of his words settled into my chest.

Because I knew.

I knew he was right.

I clenched my fists, my voice quieter this time.

“Then tell me how to stop that from happening.”

For the first time in my life, his expression softened.

Just slightly.

And then—

“That,” he said, “is your final lesson.”