Arya & Diego
Arya watched Diego jump at the werewolf again, and for a second she didn't understand how he was still standing. His movements were slower now, heavier, like his body was dragging itself forward out of sheer refusal to fall. The werewolf had only one hand left, its other arm ruined and useless, yet it defended itself with terrifying precision. Its remaining claws moved like blades, sharp, fast, blocking Diego's strikes again and again. From where Arya stood, the fight looked equal, and that scared her more than anything else. Diego was brutally injured, barely breathing right, while the wolf was fighting at half strength — and still, neither of them was winning.
She felt it again inside her, that pressure, that pull deep in her chest. Something was trying to rise, something she almost understood. For a moment, it felt close, like it was right there — but the sound of claws hitting metal, the sight of Diego staggering, pulled her focus away. She knew it instantly. She hadn't awakened. Not fully. Whatever was supposed to happen had been interrupted. She could feel the gap where it should have been, like a door that hadn't opened all the way.
Her legs started to feel weak. The room tilted slightly, her vision dimming at the edges. She was exhausted — from running, from fear, from being hurt. She was still a kid, the youngest of them all, and her body was reaching its limit. But then Diego took another hit, and she saw it in his posture, in the way his shoulders dropped just a little too much. He was losing. Not yet — but soon. And if she fainted now, he wouldn't survive.
Arya tightened her grip around the wooden stake and ran.
She didn't think about how weak she was or how slow she felt. She just knew she had to help him. She rushed toward the werewolf, lifting the stake with both hands, but she never got close. The wolf turned and kicked her once — just once — and the impact sent her flying across the room. Her back hit the wall hard, pain exploding through her body, and she slid down to the floor. Darkness rushed in before she could stop it. She tried to stay awake. She really did. The last thing she heard was Diego screaming her name.
Arya's body went limp the moment she hit the ground. Darkness pulled her under fast, heavier than sleep, heavier than fear. For a few seconds—or maybe longer—there was nothing at all.
Then—
clang.
Steel hitting the floor.
The sound slipped into her head like a crack in the dark. Arya's eyes fluttered open, unfocused, her vision swimming. She didn't move. She couldn't. She only heard.
A second sound followed.
A much heavier one.
Her brother's body slammed into the ground.
That sound snapped her fully awake.
The next second, the floor rushed up to meet him.Pain exploded through his back and chest as he hit hard, the impact rattling what little strength he had left. His lungs burned as he struggled to breathe, he tried to roll, tried to push himself up—but his body didn't respond.. The medicine had taken him to the edge—and stopped there. He was done.
He lay there, staring upward, unable to lift his arms, unable to roll away.
The werewolf stepped toward him.Diego saw the claw rise. He tried to move again. Nothing. His muscles locked, his body completely spent. Fear flickered across his face—not for himself, but for Arya. He turned his head just enough to look for her, desperate to see her breathing.
Then everything changed.A sudden weight crashed down onto the werewolf. There was a sickening jolt, followed by the sound of metal driving through something solid. The creature froze mid-motion, its body jerking once before collapsing forward.
Arya landed with it.
Diego's breath caught. "Arya—"
She moved, her small body trembling but standing. Relief hit him so fast it hurt. He tried to move again, failed, and instead just watched as she crawled toward him and rested her head against his hand.
Arya slept almost instantly.
Diego didn't. Even shattered, even barely breathing, he kept his eyes open, his fingers curling weakly around hers. He stayed awake because someone had to. And as long as he was conscious, nothing was taking her from him.
Donna Vandaryn
Donna ran through what was left of the mansion, her boots sliding over broken glass and rotting wood. Torn curtains swayed in the cold night air, brushing against her face like ghostly fingers. Spider webs clung to the corners of cracked ceilings and broken portraits watched her from the walls. The sword Enzo gave her felt too heavy in her hand, but she refused to drop it. Something was inside with her.
She slowed near the grand staircase, breath shaking, trying to listen past the pounding in her ears. The place was too quiet. No crashing footsteps. No growl. Just the faint sound of glass shifting somewhere in the dark. It wasn't chasing her. It was circling.
Her skin prickled as she stepped backward, eyes scanning the shadows between overturned furniture. The moonlight pouring through the shattered windows cast long, distorted shapes across the floor. She knew it was close. She didn't see it, but she felt it watching her, patient and cruel.
A sudden thud echoed from the second floor.
Donna spun, sword raised, heart slamming against her ribs. Dust drifted down from above as if something had moved across the balcony. "Show yourself," she whispered, but her voice cracked. She needed to know what this was, what the truth behind all of this was.
A breath brushed the back of her neck, slow and deliberate, warm enough to cut through the freezing air of the mansion. It wasn't human; it carried the sour, metallic scent of blood and something rotting beneath it. The tiny hairs along her spine lifted as the exhale lingered there, as if whatever stood behind her was savoring the fear rolling off her skin. For one suspended second, she felt its presence hovering inches away, close enough that if she moved too fast, she knew she would die.
Before she could turn, something slammed into her from behind. She hit the marble floor hard and the sword flew from her hand, skidding across the glass and disappearing near a torn velvet couch. The werewolf's weight crushed her chest as its claws scraped against the floor beside her face. She twisted violently and managed to roll free, coughing as she scrambled toward the stairs.
It didn't roar. It didn't rush.
It stalked.
She crawled over broken furniture, trying to find the sword in the dim light, her hands shaking so badly she could barely push herself up. The wolf lunged again and slammed her into a cracked pillar, pain exploding through her shoulder. She gasped, struggling to stand, trying to understand what it wanted from her.
Then the air snapped.
The werewolf jerked backward violently and slammed against the far wall, suspended mid-air as if invisible chains had wrapped around its body. Dust and old plaster rained down from the impact. Bonnie stood near the doorway, barely upright, her hands trembling as magic flickered faintly around her fingers. "Donna… the sword," she said through clenched teeth. "Stab it. Now."
Donna stared at her.
The words sounded distant, muffled by the rush of blood in her ears. The wolf snarled and thrashed against the unseen force, claws scraping the wall as cracks spread behind it. Bonnie's knees buckled slightly. "Pick it up!" she shouted again, voice sharper. "End it!"
Donna shook her head, panic flooding her chest. "I can't," she breathed, stepping back. This wasn't supposed to be her. She wasn't supposed to be the one who kills.
"Do it!" Bonnie screamed, magic flaring brighter before dimming again.
Something inside Donna snapped.
The fear twisted into heat, spreading through her veins like fire. She lunged for the sword and wrapped her fingers around the hilt. The moment she lifted it, her body felt different — steadier, stronger, awake.
She drove the blade into the wolf's chest.
The first strike felt wrong and right at the same time. Blood splattered across her hands and face, warm and thick. She pulled the sword out and stabbed again, harder this time. The wolf howled, but the sound only fueled her.
With every strike, the weakness drained from her limbs. Her heartbeat steadied instead of racing. Her muscles tightened with unnatural strength as she plunged the blade deeper, over and over. She felt something rising inside her, something ancient and violent.
She didn't stop.
She stabbed until the wolf's body gave way under her strength, tearing apart as if it were nothing. Flesh ripped. Bone cracked. Limbs separated under the force of her blows. Blood coated the floor and soaked into the torn curtains beside her.
When she finally froze, there was silence.
The wolf's upper body lay near the broken staircase. Its legs were several feet away, twisted and still. The sword remained embedded deep into the wall behind where it had been pinned, the blade buried in stone.
Bonnie collapsed onto the dusty floor, magic completely gone.
Donna stood between the pieces of what had hunted her, chest rising slowly, face streaked in blood and moonlight.
She wasn't shaking anymore.
Aegon Vandaryn
Aegon descended the final staircase into the lowest level of the facility, each step echoing through the concrete shaft. The deeper he went, the colder the air became, carrying the sterile smell of metal and burned circuits. The lights above him flickered in uneven bursts, buzzing weakly as if the building itself was dying. What bothered him most was the silence. There were supposed to be guards here.
But there was no one.
He stepped into the last corridor slowly, eyes scanning every corner, every shadow between the steel doors. Not a single guard stood watch over the most dangerous project in the building. The emptiness pressed against his instincts like a warning. Something about this felt wrong.
At the end of the hall, a massive reinforced chamber stood open. Inside it sat the core of Project Absolute.
The device was far larger than he imagined, a monstrous structure of black steel and white crystal rings rotating slowly around a massive core suspended in the center. Bright green beams of energy surged through the machine like veins, pulsing violently between the conduits and illuminating the entire chamber in flashes of emerald light. The core itself looked unstable, breathing like a living thing as raw witch magic churned inside it. Aegon could feel thousands of spells trapped within the energy, fragments of stolen power screaming silently beneath the surface. The air trembled around the machine so violently that the floor beneath him vibrated with every pulse, and for a brief moment he felt stronger just standing near it. His veins burned. His heartbeat accelerated. He understood the truth immediately—no human body was meant to handle this much magic.
Aegon stepped closer.
He could feel it immediately.
Raw magic.
And he knew he could absorb it.
His body recognized the energy like a starving man smelling food. Every instinct inside him screamed that if he pulled that magic into himself, it would make him unstoppable. But another voice warned him just as clearly.
It would kill him.
Beside the machine stood a control panel with a heavy manual dial. Aegon placed his hand on the metal lever and slowly began turning it toward maximum charge. The moment the dial moved, the entire chamber roared to life. The green beams surged brighter as alarms buried deep within the walls began screaming. Heat exploded from the core in violent waves, swallowing the room almost instantly. The deeper Aegon pushed the dial, the hotter the chamber became, the machine trembling harder as if it were resisting its own destruction. The white crystal rings spun faster around the core while steam burst violently from the pipes above, filling the air with burning pressure. Sweat rolled down Aegon's face as the temperature climbed higher and higher, the machine overloading itself with raw witch magic. The green light sharpened into something almost unbearable to look at, illuminating the room like a dying sun moments before collapse.
Then the temperature dropped.
The machine suddenly let out a deep metallic groan as the green beams flickered violently, lowering and rising like unstable pulses fighting to stay alive. Heat blasted from the core in violent waves, scorching enough to make the air shimmer as the chamber grew hotter and hotter with every second. Steam burst from overheated pipes above while the crystal rings spun faster around the core, the entire machine struggling to contain the raw witch magic trapped inside it. Aegon could feel the energy leaking into the room in heavy pulses, crashing into his body like invisible tides and making his veins burn beneath his skin. Thin green light reflected across his face as the chamber trembled harder and harder, warning him that Project Absolute was reaching a level it was never meant to reach.
Then the temperature dropped.
Aegon suddenly felt the heat fading from the chamber. The violent warmth pouring from the core moments ago began disappearing unnaturally fast, replaced by a sharp freezing cold that spread across his skin. The green beams dimmed slightly as if something invisible was draining the machine itself. Frost crept across the floor beneath his boots while steam rising from the overheated pipes vanished into cold mist. Even the raw witch magic inside the core felt weaker now, as though something nearby was silently pulling the energy away from it. Aegon frowned, staring at the machine as his breath slowly became visible in the freezing air.
A voice spoke behind him.
"Are you sure?"
Aegon froze.
That voice carried a calm that felt colder than the air itself. Slowly, he turned around.
Standing a few feet away was Magnus Frost.
One of the Pillars.
Aegon hadn't heard him arrive. Hadn't felt his presence. It was as if the man had simply stepped into existence behind him. The moment Aegon saw his face, something inside his chest ignited.
This was the man who took everything from him. The man whose existence had haunted every sleepless night, every nightmare, every ounce of rage buried inside his chest since childhood. The moment Aegon saw his face, grief and fury exploded together so violently inside him that he stopped thinking completely. All he wanted—all he had ever wanted—was to drive his sword through Magnus Frost and watch him bleed for what he did to his parents.
"You," Aegon said, the word leaving his mouth like a blade.
He didn't think.
He charged.
His sword came up in a single violent motion as he rushed forward, fury burning through every nerve in his body. But with every step he took, something unseen pushed back against him. The air thickened. His legs slowed.
By the time he raised his sword to strike, his arm stopped.
Completely.
Magnus hadn't moved.
He hadn't lifted a hand or spoken a spell. The pressure holding Aegon in place came from nothing but his presence, his magic saturating the room like invisible chains.
Aegon tried to force his body forward. His muscles strained. His fingers trembled on the sword hilt.
Nothing moved.
Aegon pushed harder, rage burning through every muscle in his body, but it was useless. He couldn't even move a finger toward him. The realization hit harder than any weapon ever could. Magnus stood there doing absolutely nothing—no spell, no movement, no effort—and Aegon still couldn't reach him.
Magnus simply watched him.
Then he smiled.
That smile crushed something inside Aegon instantly. It was calm. Effortless. As if Magnus didn't even see him as a threat worth worrying about. The shame burned through Aegon's chest as fury twisted deeper into helplessness. This was the man he swore to kill, the man he had imagined fighting for years, and yet Magnus Frost was standing in front of him smiling while Aegon couldn't even touch him.
It wasn't cruel. It wasn't angry. It was almost amused.
"What were you trying to do?" Magnus asked softly, tilting his head as if he were genuinely curious.
The pressure intensified. Aegon's knees slammed into the frozen floor, the sword clattering beside him as the invisible force crushed him down.
Still he glared upward, fury burning through the weight.
"What did you do to my father?" Aegon demanded, his voice shaking with rage.
Magnus looked at him for a moment before answering.
"Your father?" he repeated lightly.
Aegon's jaw tightened. "Did you kill them?"
The air around Magnus rippled with quiet power as the frost along the walls thickened. Aegon could feel the man's magic pressing down on him harder with every second, like standing beneath a collapsing mountain.
"I'm going to kill you," Aegon growled.
His own magic flared instinctively in response, pushing against the crushing aura surrounding him. The ground beneath him cracked slightly as power built inside his chest, raw and furious.
But Magnus only watched, that same calm smile still resting on his face.