The silence after the killing curse was absolute.
The body of Josh slumped in the chair, his lifeless eyes still wide with the horror of what had just occurred. The greenish glow of the curse still flickered in the shadows of the room, fading slowly like an afterimage burned into memory.
Eira stood still, unmoving, her expression unreadable. She didn't feel satisfaction. Not relief. Just a cold, hollow ache.
"My lady," Emma said softly, stepping forward, "we should leave. Now."
Eira turned to her without speaking.
Emma lowered her voice. "The British Aurors—especially the ones stationed near London are sensitive. They can trace Unforgivable magic. Especially the Avada Kedavra."
Eira finally nodded, slowly.
"Right," she said. "Let's go."
Before stepping out, she turned back to glance at the room one last time. Josh's head had slumped forward, black hair now disheveled across his dark face. He looked small now. Pathetic. A man who once held secrets and betrayal now reduced to silence.
As they stepped into the narrow corridor outside the flat, Eira asked quietly, "Did you clean everything?"
"I did," Emma replied. "No traces left. No magical residue. No fingerprints, no magical echo. I dismantled the wards I put up. His memory charm was sealed with a self-corrupting enchantment. Even if the Aurors try to lift it, it will collapse into nothing."
Eira nodded again, satisfied. "Good."
Then, gently, Emma placed a hand on Eira's shoulder.
"I'll Apparate you back, my lady."
And with a sharp crack, the two vanished.
They reappeared near a windswept hillside under the darkness of an old stone estate: the ancestral Hall of the White family, The air was cold as it was snowing . Distant ravens croaked from the forest beyond.
As soon as their feet touched the ground full of snow , Emma turned to Eira. "We must return to France, my lady. As soon as possible. It would be best if no one knew you ever came to England."
Eira exhaled deeply. "Even though there's no evidence?"
"Even so," Emma said. "The British Ministry is unpredictable. And you—" she hesitated "—you are too important to be caught up in an inquiry."
There was no need to argue. Eira gave a nod.
"We return at once."
And so, they vanished again—this time to the City of Paris , where the quiet snow-covered Mansion hid between muggle houses.
⸻
The Next Day
The headline of The Daily Prophet screamed across the breakfast tables of Europe.
JOSH Alain FOUND DEAD — A MYSTERIOUS CURSE KILLING
{Prominent ex-Healer and former assistant to Cecil White, Josh Alain, was discovered lifeless in his home late last night. The cause of death appears to be an Unforgivable Curse—though Aurors have refused to confirm which.
Speculation has already begun to swirl. Was this a revenge killing? A warning?
Sources suggest Alain may have had ties to the Voclain-White legitimacy scandal that shook the Wizengamot earlier this summer. Others whisper that his death may be linked to the elusive Cecil White, once known to be from the White family but with bloodline Of Voclain family.
One particularly wild theory suggests that a Voclain or someone loyal to Eira White—took matters into their own hands.
At this time, the Ministry has released no suspects. Aurors are investigating.}
⸻
In a secluded château near the French coast, a newspaper was hurled across the room.
Cecil stood beside a long mahogany table, fists clenched, face pale with fury. His breath came in short, uneven bursts.
"She killed him," he whispered. "She killed him."
Roman Trévér leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, watching the storm unfold.
Cecil began pacing, mumbling under his breath. "I just—I just killed a worthless house-elf. She… she killed Josh."
Roman's eyes darkened. "You knew this would happen."
Cecil stopped pacing and slammed his fist against the wall so hard the wood cracked.
"She murdered him," he choked out, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. "He wasn't part of this. He was just—he was mine. And she took him."
Roman pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room, grabbing Cecil's shoulders firmly.
"Stop it. Now."
Cecil looked up at him, eyes red and wild. "I loved him, Roman."
"I know."
"I loved him, and now he's gone."
"I know."
Cecil's legs gave way, and he sank to the floor, trembling, tears now flowing freely. He buried his face in his hands, sobbing. Roman knelt beside him.
"What's done is done. You knew what we were doing when we baited her. You knew what killing the house-elf would provoke. We needed her to act emotionally."
"But I didn't think—"
"You didn't think she'd actually kill him? Come now, Cecil. You know Eira or her Assistant . Cold. Precise. Vengeful."
"She wasn't like this before…"
Roman said nothing to that. He only placed a hand on Cecil's back, letting the silence stretch.
Then, when the storm of grief dulled just slightly, he spoke again.
"Now she thinks she's done. She thinks this was justice. But what she doesn't know—what she can't know—is that Josh was only part of the plan. His death was meant to happen."
Cecil blinked, eyes full of confusion. "What?"
Roman's voice dropped lower.
"You said it yourself—she acted on impulse. She left France, broke laws, crossed borders, used an Unforgivable Curse through an agent. Even if no evidence remains, the suspicion will linger. We sowed the seed. She took the bait."
Cecil looked at him. "And now?"
Roman stood slowly and walked to the window.
"Now," he said, "we proceed."
He gazed out at the snowy fields beyond, where shadows danced between trees and birds circled lazily in the winter sky.
"My mother is ready. She's been preparing for months. She will strike the Voclain family next. And without anyone watching… they will be vulnerable."
Cecil rose unsteadily to his feet, wiping his face.
"You're really going through with it?"
Roman turned toward him, a fire in his eyes. "Of course. My mother doesn't lose. Not to them. The Voclains have had power for too long. And now—"
He gestured to the newspaper. "The public is distracted. Confused. Caught up in rumors. They won't notice when we remove a few more pieces from the board."
Cecil hesitated. "And what about Eira?"
"She'll be too busy protecting her name, her House, and the seat she's trying so hard to secure. Let her struggle under the weight of murder. Let the Ministry whisper behind her back. It won't matter."
Roman smiled faintly.
"She gave us exactly what we needed."
⸻
Later That Night
In a darkened corridor of the Trévér ancestral estate, Roman passed through three wards and two silent guards to enter a locked chamber.
Inside, a long table stood in the center of the room, covered with parchment maps, magical markers, and spy reports.
Alina Trévér sat at the head of the table, her fingers steepled beneath her chin. Her eyes met her son's as he entered.
"Well?" she asked.
"She did it," Roman replied. "Josh is dead."
"Did she leave evidence?"
"No. But the Ministry is already speculating. Their suspicion will serve us well."
Alina allowed herself a satisfied smile. "And the boy?"
"Broken," Roman said flatly. "But useful. He still wants revenge. He'll follow the plan."
"Good."
She leaned back, eyes flicking to the Voclain family crest on the far wall.
"Then we move in the next phase. Start with Maximilian. He's the most isolated. The least protected."
"And René?" Roman asked.
Alina's smile disappeared.
"We'll save her for last."
Roman nodded. "And Eira?"
"She will not be touched… yet."
Alina's voice dropped.
"But let her watch what happens when fate is shattered. Let her witness the cost of playing power."
She stood, her robes rustling like smoke in the candlelight.
"Let her drown in the chaos we created. Then, we'll be the ones to save her—her protectors against the world that broke her. And when she clings to us, the White name will fall, and the Trévér legacy will rise in its place."