Beatrice felt her energy instantly wane. It was like her spirit had been bound to an anchor—heavy and drowning—suffocating her under too much pressure and too many sensations all at once.
But the feeling lasted only a brief moment before it suddenly vanished.
Edward screamed, rage tearing through his soul and ripping up his throat, amplifying into a terrifying shriek.
He chanted a familiar spell as though it were a curse—quick, precarious, unstable.
His hands glowed.
He raised his right hand toward Beatrice.
A blue glow formed over her and the chair.
Edward lifted his hand.
The chair rose with Beatrice.
"How dare you!" Edward thundered.
Beatrice looked down frantically, heart racing, breath hitched. She looked at Edward, pleading with her eyes—desperately—begging him to see the innocence in them.
But Edward wasn't going to be fooled again. He dismissed her, clenching his hand into a tight fist.
His entire demeanor darkened. His fury seemed to boil out through his eyes. Something about him now felt more distant and unhinged.
"Edward, please—"
Edward blocked her out entirely, refusing to listen.
He burst his fingers open.
The chair exploded into pieces—wood and splinters flying—while the ropes slid softly off Beatrice's limbs. But she remained suspended in the air, a meter or so above the ground: upright, chest arched forward, arms at her sides, head inclined slightly upward.
She was stuck like that, barely able to wiggle.
Still holding her in the air, Edward turned to the doll at the center of the ritual behind him. The candles had blown out. He stretched his other hand toward the doll and, with just a thought, it glowed once more.
Its outline shimmered with color, and with a flash, it flew straight into Edward's hand.
But no sooner had he turned back to Beatrice than something hurled toward him.
He dodged just in time, glanced at the object, then looked back at Beatrice with a glare so vicious it could make someone shit themselves and sprint straight into hell for safety.
"YOU… BITCH!!!" Edward dragged out, pure exasperation shaking his voice.
Beatrice felt her heart go numb. Her eyes burned with despair. She trembled with defeat and horror.
That Kimrole had been her only chance of escape.
Yes, it hadn't been a guarantee. But it had been the only chance within reach.
Now she had screwed up. She had completely, utterly screwed up…
There was nothing left to hope for. She was doomed, and she knew it. She just waited for it to happen.
"Ahhhhh!!!" Edward shrieked, pulling his arm back menacingly.
"I'll be with you soon, Halli," Beatrice whispered in despair, almost sobbing. Her body trembled and floated foward helpless in prhythm. She closed her eyes and waited.
Edward held back for a second—then thrust his hand forward with abrupt, brutal force.
The shrieking ceased.
The glow around Beatrice vanished.
She flew effortlessly across the room, crashing into a painting on the wall with a grunt before thudding to the floor along with it.
She fell silent.
Edward approached her, his breath rugged. He found her sitting in a disheveled heap between the coffee table and the couch.
She seemed hurt—really hurt, barely able-to-move hurt—but Edward knew this was just another act. He had had enough. No more.
He looked down at the doll in his hands, his face twisted into a grotesque frown. But the truth gnawed at him: he hated what he was doing. He was practically hurting a woman. He shook his head.
"No," he muttered, stepping back as the weight of his actions finally settled properly onto him. He didn't think he could go further—couldn't hurt her more. He had never wanted it to escalate this far. It was wrong. He knew it. It was so bloody wrong.
But then again, this was no ordinary woman he was scrupling over. This was Beatrice—the woman behind his friend's death. The woman behind his missing memories. And the mastermind behind something he still couldn't grasp—something she refused to tell him.
"What's her problem?" Edward asked himself, emotionally fractured to the point of insanity.
He stared at her. She looked timid—trembling and curled up like a fearful damsel, clasping her chain and gently stroking its pendant.
Her eyes were empty with despair, staring blankly at the floor, already surrendered to her fate.
Edward felt his heart sink… then tighten. But he wasn't budging—not yet. Instead, he tightened his grip on the doll and examined it.
"Kumpanà," he thought, still staring. "The doll magically bound to Beatrice." He stroked one of its taut arms, the whole thing rigid as though it had developed an endoskeleton.
"Breaking this thing's limb would literally break Beatrice's. And vice versa." He clicked his tongue. "Such a gruesome, chilling thing." He almost laughed. He was practically going mad. "No wonder the magic used to make it is called Taboo," he sighed. "It aligns perfectly with how I feel toward it. With how I felt performing the spell."
He looked at Beatrice again, seeing her sitting there - shaken, helpless - 0000he felt everything in him collapse.
He threw the doll aside and dropped himself onto the floor, sitting callously as he stared at her.
"You win, Beatrice," Edward admitted emptily. "You win."
Beatrice slowly lifted her head to meet his gaze—and before he even realized what was happening, she rushed to him and embraced him tightly, sobbing painfully.
"I was never even a player, Edward," she whispered. "I never was." She pulled back. "But," she sniffled, "I'll help you figure things out, okay?"
Edward's mind was elsewhere. His eyes narrowed at something on the couch he hadn't noticed earlier. He leaned closer.
The shock hit him like a stray bullet.
He whirled back to Beatrice.
"Where did you get that, kikoi?!" he demanded.
------------------
Edward rushed down the stairs and out of the building, shaken up and disheveled.
His bag barely hung from his shoulder, and his hands rummaged thoroughly through his pockets, desperately searching for his mobile.
He wailed down the first taxi he saw driving down the street.
It stopped.
He got in.
"Where to, sir?" the driver asked.
"Ngong's Flora Estate," Edward responded hastily.
He felt anxious with the driver still dallying to start the car. "Driiiive!!!" he commanded.
The driver immediately stepped on the gas, and the car shot down the street.
It was then that Edward remembered where he had placed his phone. He quickly took his bag off his back and searched through it. "Found it," he declared.
"What, sir?" the driver asked.
"Nothing," Edward reprimanded. "Just drive."
He opened his phone and dialed Mdachi's number.
No response.
He felt flustered.
He tried Anita's.
Still no response.
"What's going on?" he asked himself in panic. His heart only ached more by the second.
His mind rang loudly with the memory of what Beatrice had told him: "It was gifted to me by Hallington."
The conversation came flashing back.
"Where did he get it?" Edward had asked, in complete trust of what Beatrice was saying.
Beatrice had delayed.
"Where did he get it from?!" Edward had snapped.
"His ktsi clan."
Edward hadn't known what ktsi meant, but he could guess from the sigil on the cloth. He waited for Beatrice to clarify.
"The Kilinge Circle," Beatrice dropped the bomb. "Hallington was a ktsi. He was a warlock."
Edward had almost stopped breathing. He remembered why the sigil had felt familiar each time he saw it: in his mysterious dream, and on that grimoire that day. His mom had a kikoi just like that. He remembered that she had stopped wearing it a long time ago. But when she still used to, and Edward had asked her about it, she would say that it was a heritage of her clan, a symbol of her culture.
Edward had paused, and dismissed the idea. It didn't make sense. It really didn't. Because if it did, the tea could have worked on his mom the previous day.
But… what if she had some ploy up her sleeve and somehow outsmarted him? Did that mean his mom and Hallington had magic all their lives and hid it from him? Who else did they deceive? Did his father know? Did Renee know? Did his grandparents know? And if Hallington and his mom really did have magic, they come from the same witch clan?
No. He couldn't assume things. He had to be at least a little sure.
He had turned to Beatrice. "Beatrice," he'd called her, "What do you know about my mom and Hallington?"
Edward was suddenly jerked out of his daze when the car came to a sudden halt.
Traffic.
The driver turned to explain to Edward, but before he could talk, Edward interjected. "Where's the code?"
"Hm?" The driver was slow.
"The QR code?" Edward almost snapped. "The one I scan to pay?"
"Oh, yeah," the man finally understood. He grabbed a green plastic card with the code on it from the dashboard and handed it to Edward.
Edward took it hastily, scanned it, and completed the transaction.
He handed it back.
"Have a nice day, sir," the driver bid as Edward got out of the car.
"Yeah, yeah. Sure," Edward responded hastily, shutting the door behind him.
"Spoilt brat," the driver muttered under his breath as he watched Edward walk off. "Hmm." He scoffed. "Mi bora nimepata doh," he celebrated. "More than I should have even."
Edward shoved his phone into his pocket after failing to reach Mdachi and Anita again.
He was strutting, but it didn't feel good enough.
Turning the corner, he set his bag properly on his back and began running. The estate's main gate was just some distance ahead.
He found himself accelerating as dreadful thoughts of what might have happened to his friends jumbled up in his mind—tormenting and fearsome.
He dodged the people on his way with swiftness, like a ball being dribbled smoothly past training cones, avoiding even the slightest touch with them.
Before he even knew it, he zoomed past the gate and into the estate, startling the watchmen and other residents.
The watchmen knew his mom, so they didn't bother to stop him.
As Edward practically flew down one of the lanes he usually took to get home, he zoomed past someone who seemed familiar. He turned to look slightly, only to realize it was Marissa, carrying a box of… donuts? And dressed in her usual dashing style.
He had no time to stop, so he bolted ahead.
Marissa's smile slowly fell as she watched him disappear into a corner.
---
Reaching his house, Edward barged in. He was lucky it wasn't locked.
"Anita?! Dachi?!" he called out worriedly, moving about the space after dropping his bag somewhere.
He heard some noises in the storeroom.
He rushed to it.
But when he got down there, he was soul-shaken by what met his eyes. Goosebumps riddled his entire being and his heart froze.
His mom, Miridald, stood at the opposite side of the room, her left arm raised and the hand glowing purple.
Literally shaking, Edward's eyes followed the direction her hand was aimed toward.
His friends.
They hovered there, a few meters from him, a purple glow around them as their bodies were suspended the same way he had suspended Beatrice's—upright, chest arched forward, arms set beside them, heads inclined upward.
They stared at him from the corners of their eyes, souls shaken just as much as his, fear obvious in their expressions.
Suddenly, Edward felt himself begin to rise. He tried to react, but his arms stuck to his sides. His chest arched forward and his head inclined upward.
A purple glow surrounded him.
He was brought close to his friends.
Miridald tried to step toward them, but seeing the fear in their eyes, she resolved not to.
Her eyes shone with tears. "I'm sorry, my babies, but this is the only way I can be sure you'll be safe… I'll protect you. Don't you worry, I will."
Edward realized he couldn't speak.
Beatrice let out a sigh. Then she locked in and began chanting. She raised her other hand, and it also glowed.
Feeling helpless, Edward took a glance at his friends through the corner of his eyes.
They were looking back at him, horrified, as if they knew what was coming next.
Edward looked forward again, tears streaming down his cheeks as the painful truth settled in: there was nothing he could do.
He wished he could do something. Anything. If only he was powerful enough. If only he was as powerful as his mom seemed to—
Wait a minute.
His mind flicked with a memory. Mama Anita had told him he was a powerful warlock on the day he discovered what he truly was. He was a POWERFUL warlock.
He began struggling to move his hands.
"Just quit it, son!" Miridald discouraged. "It will all be over soon, and you won't even remember any of this. None of you will. So just stop fighting it."
A gush of wind suddenly began filling the room. It grew stronger every second.
Edward's eyes widened with the shock of what his mom had said. So… she's the one who erased my memories? The betrayal cut deeper than anything he had ever experienced.
But at the exact time, the memory of Mama Anita telling him that he needed to tap into the power of the one who erased his memories to restore them came rushing back. He needed to do that for his friends—to protect them, to save them.
Edward closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel the pain, rage, and every emotion weighing on him. "Not this time, mother," he muttered.
And with that, Edward opened his eyes, his hands glowing a searing blue all of a sudden.
Glowing paths, just like earlier, crept up his arms all the way to his neck, head, and face.
Glowing runes also appeared between the paths, and his eyes glowed in allegiance to his power.
His mom's control over his body broke, and Edward floated forward, closing in on her.
He stopped midway and stared down at her, eyes terrifyingly blue and rageful.
He raised his hand toward his friends, and the glow around them vanished, letting them fall to the floor.
Miridald finished chanting and let out a semicircular purple power blast that advanced forward, sweeping along objects in its path even against the wind in the room.
Edward raised a hand and stopped it midway. It convulsed with instability.
Miridald's eyes bulged in awe and horror.
"Edward, just stop!" she shouted through the noise. She tried to move toward him through the powerful wind. "Edward? Please, darling, just stop." She grew even more apprehensive. "Pepo isn't safe!"
Edward didn't seem to understand her. He started glitching with sudden freaky convulsions all over his body.
He felt weird and distant, with tones of emotions and sensations weighing down on him at once. He kept hearing incessant eerie whispers from all around him, closing in and becoming louder.
But remembering what was at stake, he locked in and ignored the whispers. He stretched his arms wide open and clicked his fingers.
The frozen purple energy instantly straightened up and became stable.
"No, this isn't right," Anita said, trying to approach Edward, but the wind made it impossible.
She turned to Mdachi, chest heaving. "We have to stop Edward from being in that state!" she shouted.
"What!" Mdachi didn't quite catch it.
The wind grew stronger, pushing them back even more.
The boxes in the room were now at the edges.
Edward began moving his hands in a circular manner.
The energy moved correspondingly and formed into a sphere.
Anita turned back to Mdachi. They had been pushed to the wall behind them. "Edward isn't safe!"
Mdachi still didn't hear her clearly.
"Edward isn't safe!" she shouted louder.
Mdachi heard: "Ed is safe."
But he knew far better than that—that wasn't what Anita was struggling to tell him with that panicked look. So he interpreted it correctly.
He stood up in alarm and started trying to move toward Edward. But the wind was too powerful, pushing him back against the wall.
Anita joined the effort.
Meanwhile, Miridald squatted and touched the ground, chanting eerie words through the chaos.
The lights upstairs flickered.
She was channeling power from the earth.
Edward had already begun chanting a reversing spell in that deep, distant, ancient voice.
She needed to stop him—and her own spell—before it was too late. Before she lost him. And to do that, she needed as much power as possible. Stopping him now wasn't going to be even the slightest easy.
Edward suddenly stopped chanting. The glows disappeared. The room settled back into stillness.
He fell to his knees, all weak and drained. The spherical purple energy shrank into thin air.
His eyes seemed exhausted, and blood trickled from his ears.
Miridald stared in awe, midway through her spell. "Wait," she thought. "It wasn't supposed to happen like that. What… what did he do?"
But just as she wondered, she saw Edward wipe the blood from his ear with the back of his hand, then sneer with a sinister look.
"Gini tiekre sani (This ends now)," she heard him mutter, before seeing a white spherical ball of energy form from where her purple one had shrank and disappeared into.
The energy suddenly exploded into a white power blast, sending everyone and everything flying toward the walls.
BOOM!
The impact left everyone unconscious and the house slightly shaken.
---
At that exact time, Renee arrived and parked Miridald's car in front of the house, rushing out hastily.