The candles had burned out. The wind howled quietly through a shattered window, brushing past the curtains like a ghost whispering goodbye.
"Asher, please open the door."
Jeremy's voice had cracked now for the third time.
No response.
Just silence.
Heavy, suffocating silence.
Inside the infirmary room, Asher sat on the cold tiled floor. He had dragged the hospital bed aside, pushing it roughly against the door so no one could come in. His eyes were hollow, glazed with grief. Blood from his reopened wounds had begun to soak through the back of his white bandages, but he didn't care. He couldn't feel pain—not the physical kind. Not anymore.
The real pain was deeper.
He stared at his trembling hands.
Nothing.
Not a flicker of light. Not a whisper of power. Not even a pulse.
He clenched them into fists. His jaw quivered. He sucked in a breath that stung his lungs and whispered:
"I'm… nothing."
And then he broke.
Tears spilled from his eyes, hot and endless. He tried to wipe them, but they came faster. His entire body began to shake. He grabbed at his chest as if clawing at something buried inside him that refused to come out.
He tilted his head back and screamed—not from pain, but from something worse.
Grief. Helplessness. Guilt.
"Why me?" he sobbed, collapsing forward on his knees. "Why take it all away?"
His hands slammed into the floor. Again. And again. Bone met tile with sickening thuds. Blood smeared in tiny patches across the polished surface.
He curled into himself like a wounded animal.
And then he remembered.
The image slammed into his brain without warning—
A memory he never told anyone. One that still haunted the edges of his dreams.
He was thirteen. Just a scrawny, quiet boy then, always at the back of the class. One day, during P.E., someone called him out—just for existing.
They had cornered him behind the old gymnasium pillar. Five of them. One grabbed his arms, another his legs. And the biggest one of them all—Zayne—the one everyone feared, lifted him by his shirt collar and slammed him headfirst into the concrete pillar.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
Laughter. Cheers. Phones recording.
No one stopped them.
He had blacked out on the fourth hit, and when he woke up in the nurse's station, the bruises were still there. No teacher ever asked. No justice was served.
"You're useless."
The words still rang in his head, just as they had that day.
"You'll always be useless."
Asher screamed again and rammed his own head against the infirmary wall, desperate to silence the voice. To end it.
Blood trickled down his forehead.
Outside, Jeremy jumped back at the thud.
"ASHE—!"
"Damn it," Ezekiel hissed. His fist pounded on the door. "He locked it. He fucking locked the damn room!"
Rose paced behind them, her hands shaking as she hugged herself tightly. "Something's wrong. He's not answering."
Jeremy was panicking now. His palms were slick with sweat. "What if… what if he's trying to kill himself?"
"Don't say that," Rose snapped, her voice breaking.
But then it came—
A sound louder than the rest.
THUD.
It wasn't just a fall.
It almost seem like something let go, as if the force of gravity was useless against it.
It was the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. Something final.
Ezekiel and Jeremy froze.
Then both screamed at once—
"ASHER!"
Jeremy backed up, kicked the door hard. "Open it! OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!"
Ezekiel tried to force his way in, shoulder-checking the frame with reckless rage. "I should've never left him alone! I knew he wasn't okay!"
Inside, Asher lay curled in a bloody mess. His fingernails were cracked and chipped. His lips trembled as he whispered things only he could hear.
"Should've died with them… should've let the Leviathans eat me…"
He didn't want to die.
But he didn't want to live like this either.
He wanted to matter.
The door suddenly burst open with Jeremy's final desperate shove, and the two boys stumbled in.
Ezekiel dropped to his knees immediately. "Asher!"
Jeremy turned pale. Blood was everywhere.
Asher looked up at them, glassy-eyed. "You guys… weren't supposed to see me like this."
"You idiot," Ezekiel snapped, pulling him into his arms. "You think we care? You think we give a damn about powers? You saved all of us!"
Asher shook his head, voice a whisper. "What does it matter? I was supposed to protect you all… and now… I'm just…"
"You're still Asher," Jeremy said, tears in his eyes. "Still our friend. Still the strongest one here."
"I'm scared," Asher admitted. "I don't know how to fight without magic. I don't know how to be me."
The words broke Jeremy. He wiped his eyes, his voice raw. "Then we'll remind you. Every. Damn. Day."
Behind them, Sylvia, Emily and Ava had rushed in, both breathless. Ava covered her mouth in horror. Rose collapsed beside her brother, wrapping her arms around him tightly.
"You're not useless," she whispered. "You're still my brother. That's enough."
Ezekiel exhaled, clutching his friend tight. "We'll figure out the rest. Even if we have to rip Lamia apart piece by piece."
Then the earth shook again.
The walls rumbled, and from the windows, the sky lit up in a storm of violet fire.
Jeremy stood first, his hand gripping the edge of the window.
"Oh no."
Dragons circled overhead—massive, winged beasts with eyes of flame.
Magic pulsed from the horizon like an earthquake of energy.
And in the center of it all, walking out of a glowing obsidian gate, was Lamia—no longer mortal, his robes made of flame and gold, the Phoenix Stone letting out an eeerie glow in his palm.