Chapter 94: Silent Night

Cecilia knelt in the protective jelly dome, her cloak and hair plastered to her skin with sweat.

Her hands never stopped moving, fingers weaving through the intricate steps of the teleportation spell formation. The B-rank spell was complex, and the pressure of dozens of armed soldiers circling like wolves gnawed at her focus.

Each time she neared completion, the delicate threads of her mana quivered, threatening to unravel into nothingness.

Her chest tightened. Not again. She bit down on her lip until it bled, tasting copper as she forced her mind back into rhythm.

Her golden eyes flickered down at Noah, still slumped against the floor of the jelly dome. His breathing was shallow, his face pale as death.

’I can’t stop here,’ she told herself, voice trembling inside her head. ’Not now. Not when he’s so close to being safe.’

Oliver’s voice from earlier still rang in her ears.

“You were never supposed to be here. If you don’t succeed, Cecilia, if you can’t cast that spell, none of us will leave here alive.”

She shoved the fear away and poured every ounce of concentration into the spell formation glowing faintly above her palm.

The formation wavered, lines of mana bending under strain, threatening to snap apart like brittle twigs.

She clenched her will around it, tightening her control until her temples burned with the effort. Her body shook, sweat dripping from her brow as she forced each rune into place.

The circle pulsed. For a moment, she thought it would break again. Then, it seemed to click into place.

Her eyes flew open, wide with shock. She’d done it. Against all odds, the spell held steady, solid, alive in her palm like a beating heart.

Relief crashed over her in a wave so strong, her vision wavered.

But the moment was shattered by motion in her periphery. She looked up, just in time to see the caped man standing over Oliver. His sword was high, gleaming with the terrible aura of Hunger, descending with the promise of death.

“OLIVER!”

The scream tore from her throat before she could stop it. Her free hand shot forward, gathering flames in a searing torrent.

She unleashed her strongest B-rank spell, a lance of blazing fire that tore through the night sky. The man snarled, forced to twist aside, his strike veering off target.

Oliver’s body toppled into unconsciousness, collapsing face first into the dirt. He didn’t move.

Cecilia’s heart lurched. She tore through the last veil of jelly encasing her, erupting into the open. Soldiers surged forward, blades raised, spells already forming.

Her answer was fire. Vast walls of searing flame that exploded outward in all directions. The heat drove them back, their faces twisting in shock as they scrambled from the inferno.

Her lungs burned as she ran to Oliver, seized, and began dragging his limp body across the battlefield, hauling him inch by inch until she collapsed beside Noah’s unconscious form.

Her magic strained under the fire walls she kept up, sweat dripping freely.

Then a sound cut through, the low, guttural tearing of Hunger.

A black wave of gnawing void crashed through her flames, devouring the fire as if it had never been there. The flames sputtered, broke, and collapsed in an instant.

The caped man strode through the wreckage, his cloak fluttering in the backdraft, his sword howling with Hunger’s aura.

His eyes were locked on her. On Noah. His intent was clear. Slaughter her, take Noah.

He surged forward, every step bringing death closer.

Cecilia’s right hand clenched, the completed teleportation formation glowing brilliantly in her palm. She didn’t think, as there was no time to think. The instant before his blade reached her, she flung her magic outward, activating the formation.

Light and fire engulfed them.

The battlefield vanished.

They reappeared in the infirmary of Camelot’s Royal Academy, the smell of antiseptic replacing the stench of death and burning.

The sudden transition threw Cecilia to her knees, but she forced herself up immediately.

“HELP!” She screamed, her voice raw with urgency. “NOW!”

Doctors and nurses, startled by the blaze of magic and sudden appearance, dropped everything to rush forward.

Hands grabbed Oliver, others reached for Noah. Spells of healing and stabilization flared around them in a chaotic flurry.

Cecilia’s heart hammered, but she didn’t stay. She had no time for questions. No time for anyone to wonder who she was.

While they busied themselves with the two men, she turned away. She sprinted to the open window, threw herself through it, and hit the ground below in a crouch. In a flash, her cloak flared and her spell activated again, fire swallowing her body whole.

An instant later, she was gone.

When she reappeared, it was in her office. Her legs gave out, dropping her into her chair. Her golden eyes stared at the wooden floor, her breaths coming fast and uneven.

They were safe. At least for now.

She’d made sure of that.

But no one could ever know she’d stepped beyond the academy walls. If they did, it would all be over.

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The pillar of blue light tore through the night sky from his sword and speared the wreckage of the shattered carriage.

Fire bloomed, then fizzled into dying embers.

Silence followed, broken only by the soft flap of Lord Rowe’s cape in the wind.

He stood there, his knuckles white around the hilt of his sword. His eyes, blazing with hatred, scanned the smoking ruin. There was nothing. No screams. No charred corpses. Not even a trace of the prey he’d sworn to claim.

They were gone.

A snarl ripped from his throat as he raised his sword again, sending another surge of blue destruction into the earth. The ground cracked and splintered, dust and sparks erupting into the air, but the hollow space where they had been remained just that. Empty.

“DAMN IT!” Rowe bellowed, his fury shaking the night. His soldiers shifted uneasily in their armor, eyes darting between the wreckage and their lord, but none dared speak.

Rowe’s chest heaved. His rage roared like a beast caged too long.

’They were mine! He was mine!’ And yet, right before his eyes, Noah had slipped away like smoke through his clenched fingers.

He ground his teeth, forcing the rage into a hard, cold flame inside his chest. Slowly, he sheathed his sword and turned his burning gaze on the battlefield one last time.

The image of the hooded figure, small, slight, cloaked in fire, etched itself into his mind. Whoever she was, she’d stolen his vengeance.

“Garret!” His voice rang out.

His right hand man swiftly knelt before him. “My lord.”

Rowe stared at him, eyes narrowing. “Get in contact with everyone we still have in the Royal Academy. Every servant, every whisperer, every worm in the halls. I don’t care what it takes. That boy,” his voice cracked with barely restrained fury, “I will never let Noah Webb go. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.” Garret said, bowing his head low.

Rowe’s mind raced, pieces falling into place. The hooded woman had wielded fire. Fire that was not just strong, but also controlled, refined. Not a student. A professor.

He turned his gaze down to Garret again. “And one more thing.”

“Start looking into all female professors at the Royal Academy who bear the Fire affinity. Every single one. I want names. I want histories. I want everything. Someone dared to steal my justice tonight, and I will tear them apart piece by piece until Noah Webb is mine again.”

Garret bowed even lower. “It will be done, my lord.”

Lord Rowe turned away from the battlefield to his warhorse. “Clean this up. Leave no traces.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He sat in his saddle, his eyes burning. His daughter’s coffin flashed in his mind, her pale face, her mother’s screams. The promise he had made in the courtyard echoed in his ears.

’I will not fail again.’

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