The quiet in Devon’s room was both comforting and unbearable. His breathing had steadied, the curse no longer afflicting him, but seeing him so still and fragile, bugged me. Was this what it meant to love someone so completely? To always fear losing them? Devon had become a part of me, and now that I had him, I couldn’t imagine letting go.

I brushed his hair back and kissed his temple. “Rest,” I whispered. “I’ll protect you.”

The moment I stepped into the hallway, the air became horrid with magic. The rhythm of the manor’s wards buzzed in the background, and I felt it in prickle my skin. It was a telltale sign of a battle raging just beyond these walls. The smell of smoke wafted to me and I knew my mother was already out there, fighting the shadow witches.

Lady Bernadette. I suddenly remembered her and thought of her tightened my chest. Devon had been saved because of our bond, but Bernadette had no such connection to me. I couldn’t reach her the same way, couldn’t cleanse the curse from her core. And time was running out.

I moved quickly, my footsteps echoing in the surprisingly empty halls as I headed toward the courtyard. If we had any chance of saving Bernadette—or anyone else—we had to destroy these witches. But the question haunted me: why were they here now? Revenge, or something worse?

I pushed the thought aside as I reached the courtyard and stepped into chaos.

The sky above the manor was a roiling mass of shadows writhing and twisting like snakes. Tendrils lashed out, retreating only to strike again, hunting. The acrid stench of fire and the metallic tang of blood was nearly thick enough to choke on. Shadow witches darted through the chaos, their forms flickering in and out of the darkness like phantoms, using it as both shield and weapon.

My stomach tightened as I took it all in. This kind of power was crippling. The shadows didn’t merely obey; they lived, pulsing and shifting as if feeding off the vortex above. And the witches—there were more of them than I’d ever imagined, each attacking simultaneously with their shadows. Lady Bernadette had been right. This wasn’t magic. It was pure evil.

At the centre of the battlefield stood my mother. Alone. Her flames roared, carving arcs of destruction through the shadows. Her once auburn hair now burned crimson, her power blazing so brightly it lit the courtyard in flashes of searing light. The fire pulsed with her movements, consuming everything it touched, leaving nothing in its wake.

But for every shadow she destroyed, more crawled back. They clawed their way from the void up there.

“Celeste!” she called out as her eyes locked onto mine. Her voice rang clear and commanding above the din. “About time.”

I nodded and stepped forward. The knot in my chest tightened as the realization hit me—she’d been fighting the entire coven alone. Mouriana’s nickname for her echoed in my mind. Inferno. It was a truth. And Mother, in her infinite stubbornness, had sent everyone else away, shielding them from the battle raging here.

As my boots hit the courtyard stones, the shadows shifted. Their attention snapped toward me like a predator marking fresh prey. The whispers followed, low and slithering, worming their way into my thoughts. They weren’t words, just a constant, grating drone meant to unsettle and distract.

I forced them aside, locking my focus on what mattered. The shadows weren’t the target. The witches were. If I could find the one who had attacked Lady Bernadette, I could end this. I scanned the battlefield, looking for a thread that tied the curse to its source.

Water wouldn’t destroy them, not directly, but if I could use it as a conduit for light, it would drive the shadows away. I extended my hands, reaching for the fountains that lined the courtyard. The water responded s easily as breathing, rising in twisting tendrils, shimmering with the blinding energy of a vibrant fullmoon. The light rippled across the stones, cutting through the darkness with fluid, shifting waves.

The shadows hissed as the water struck them, dissolving their tendrils into vapour. Their retaliation came fast. A tendril whipped toward me suddenly, and I barely ducked in time. The chill grazed my cheek, leaving the skin tingling. My instincts took over, and I retaliated with fire. My flames roared to life, colliding with the darkness in a crackling burst of sparks.

“You’re using both elements,” Mother said as another wave of fire rolled from her hands. There was approval in her tone, but her focus remained on the fray. “Good. Keep going.”

The witches began to emerge from the swirling vortex above. They wore black robes, their faces hidden beneath deep hoods. One of them raised a hand, and shadows coiled around her, twisting into the shape of a spear. Without hesitation, she hurled it toward my mother.

I moved instinctively, raising a wall of fire to intercept the attack. The spear collided with the flames, shattering into harmless wisps of smoke. Seizing the moment, I pushed the wall forward, sending it surging toward the witches. But they dissolved into shadow, slipping out of sight before reappearing on the far side of the courtyard.

“Interesting,” I muttered, my eyes narrowing as I tracked their movements. They were coordinated and unnervingly precise. And they too moved like shadows.

Little Star, listen to me. Camille’s voice rang through my mind, clear as if she were standing beside me. My breath hitched, and I nearly lost my focus.

“Camille?” I whispered under my breath. “Are you just going to live in my head now?”

“Focus, Celeste!” Mother snapped, her voice cutting through my distraction. Her flames flared higher, her hands moving in an intricate dance of destruction. “They’re relentless. You can’t hesitate.”

I nodded, forcing myself to breathe through the choking remnants of their magic. The witches were strong, their shadows suffocating, but they weren’t invincible. And as I steadied myself, I realized something: I wasn’t afraid of them any more. Not like I had been at the inn. Their strength wasn’t absolute. They relied on coordination and that first surprise attack. If I could break that”

They can outlast your mother’s fire, Camille’s voice disrupted my thoughts again. This won’t work. You have to use their own magic against them. Shape your fire as shadow fighters, as they do.

Oh. I could? My fire didn’t have to burn bright. It didn’t have to destroy in the way I’d always wanted to use it. I could reshape it, mould it into something as dark as these shadow witches could, something as fluid and shifting as the shadows themselves.

“Let’s see how they like that,” I muttered, flames sparking to life at my fingertips.

I stretched my hands forward, feeling the heat ripple under my skin, but this time I didn’t unleash it outward. Instead, I drew it inward, letting the fire build and swirl, bending it to my will. The shadows moved like water, malleable and adaptive. My fire had to become the same—something unpredictable, something they couldn’t counter.

The flames began to take shape, humanoid figures flickering with a fierce, crimson glow. One by one, they crawled out of the ground and stepped forward, their forms crackling and alive. They mirrored the movements of the shadow witches” constructs—swift and so very lethal.

I caught it, the shock and hesitation in the witches” movements. They hadn’t expected this.

“Good,” I murmured, a grim satisfaction creeping into my voice. “Destroy their shadows!” I commanded.

The fiery constructs leapt into action, clashing with the shadows in bursts of heat and light. The shadows hissed and recoiled, but the flames roared, consuming them with each strike, scattering their tendrils like ash on the wind.

The witches fought back, their attacks more desperate now, but their coordination had frayed. Their movements were no longer seamless; they hesitated, adjusted. My fire constructs pressed the advantage, cutting through the dark with ease.

From across the battlefield, my mother glanced at me. Her lips curled into a fierce grin, her flames flaring higher as if fuelled by renewed purpose. “Now you’re thinking like a Le Torneau,” she called, her voice ringing clear above the chaos.

I didn’t have time to respond. Another witches descended from the swirling vortex, her form solidifying in a ripple of shadows. Hair black of night flayed out behind her but she had a black mask over her face. Elder. I felt her power in my bones in the way my hear thumped. Her hands shot up, and the darkness around her surged, twisting into a massive wave that crashed toward me. I braced myself, throwing my hands forward to summon a barrier. Fire and water intertwined, forming a shield that flared brightly as the wave struck. The impact sent shock waves rippling through the courtyard, but my barrier held.

The fire scattered into mist, but my water hardened, transforming into jagged arrows of ice that shot toward the elder. She dodged easily avoiding the shards as they buried themselves in the ground around her.

They’re testing you. Keep control. You’ve got this. Camille’s voice reassured me.

I straightened, steadying my breath as I watched the other witches focus their attacks solely on my mother. They weren’t fighting blindly—they were probing, looking for cracks in our defences. They were methodical, and if we slipped, even for a second, they’d exploit it.

With the shadows dealt with, they’ll come at you head-on now. You must destroy them. They bleed, Celeste. And you are a water witch. Blood is water—use it to stop them. Camille’s voice sharpened.

“What?” The question slipped out, my focus breaking. “Like the Scarlet Witch?”

“Celeste! Above you!” Mother’s voice shouted urgently at me.

I moved without thinking, twisting to the side just as a shadow spear hurtled down, its tip glowing with a sickly green light. The edge grazed my arm before burying itself in the ground with a dull thud. Pain flared immediately, spreading like fire through my veins. I clenched my teeth, retaliating with a burst of flames that sent the nearest witch to my mother’s side retreating back into the shadows.

I pressed a hand to my arm, wincing as the wound throbbed with cursed magic. The shadows curled at the edges of the injury, dark tendrils snaking across my skin like vines. The witches were clever, and more coordinated than I’d thought. They thought they could grind us down, that their curse would twist me into a weakling to beat.

They were wrong.

I reached deep, pulling at the bond within me, where the magic of fire and water hummed. Focusing on the cursed shadows in my arm, I felt their presence, their sharp, cloying pull against my essence. Gritting my teeth, I began to draw them out. Slowly, painfully, the darkness unravelled, inch by inch, fighting me at every turn. The sharp, clawing pain radiated through my body, but I didn’t stop.

When the last tendril of shadow magic came free, it coiled in my hand, writhing like a parasite. Its shape twisted and shifted, desperate to return to me. I didn’t hesitate. I hurled it into the ring of fire surrounding my mother. The flames roared, consuming the darkness in a violent flash of light.

And yet, the elder witch didn’t move. She stood there, her masked gaze fixed on me, watching in silence like Remnant had done back at the inn. It was the perfect time to strike—while I was occupied, my defences still gathering—but she didn’t. Why?

I forced my unease aside, raising my hands again. More fire constructs sprang forth, joining the battle. The courtyard felt hotter than purgatory, the flames pushing back the shadows inch by inch. My mother moved to my side, her magic weaving effortlessly with mine. Together, our flames burned brighter, a blinding tide of destruction driving back the darkness.

“So,” Mother said, her voice heavy as she took a breath, “you can undo their curse.” There was a note of approval in her tone.

Only then did it hit me—what I’d just done. I had pulled the shadow curse from my body like it was nothing, as if it hadn’t even taken hold. The ease of it both stunned and unsettled me. If I could do that, did it mean I could remove the curse from Lady Bernadette as well?

Before I could answer, more witches descended. They dropped from the swirling vortex above, their robes billowing like smoke as they landed with a quiet grace that set my teeth on edge. They moved as one, lining up behind their elder, their shadows coiling protectively around them like living shields. Eighteen. I counted eighteen witches.

And we hadn’t managed to kill even one of them.

“You are severely outmatched,” Mother said, her chin lifting, her flames flaring higher in a show of power. “Leave this place now, and we will let this senseless attack go.”

While she taunts them, feel the blood in their veins, Camille’s voice whispered in my mind. Like water. Focus on it. Control it.

The suggestion made me stiffen. Blood magic?

Who is that? Mouriana’s voice snapped, her sharpness slicing through Camille’s calm. Their voices clashed, Camille’s measured insistence against Mouriana’s sudden, biting fury. The dissonance pulled at my focus, their words pressing against each other in a maddening cacophony.

You cannot puppeteer with blood, little witch, Mouriana warned. Blood magic corrupts the soul. It will poison you, as it did Mythica. You are not invincible.

My hands curled into fists as their voices overlapped, warring in my mind. “Enough,” I muttered under my breath, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

The moment of distraction cost me.

A witch lunged, her shadow twisting into a spear that streaked toward me with deadly precision. My magic flared instinctively, but I wasn’t fast enough. I turned, heart lurching as I realized I wouldn’t make it in time.

Then Camille appeared.