The cold night wrapped Beauxbâtons in silence. The moon, pale and sharp like a silver sickle, hung above the spires of the château, casting eerie shadows through the long arched windows of the Ombrelune's dormitories. Most students slept peacefully under enchanted blankets, unaware of the storm brewing outside their innocent walls.
But in one room, the silence was broken by the flutter of wings.
An owl, pitch black with shimmering violet eyes, tapped once against the frost-laced glass of Eira's window. Her eyes snapped open in the dark, instantly alert. She swung her legs over the bed, grabbed her wand from under her pillow, and moved toward the window barefoot.
The moment she unlatched it, the owl swooped in, circled once, then dropped a sealed black envelope on her bed.
The seal bore the White family crest—embedded not in wax, but in blood-red ink.
She knew what that meant.
This was not official correspondence.
This was Emma.
Eira lit the tip of her wand with a soft glow, sat down on her bed, and broke the seal with a sharp snap. The parchment inside smelled faintly of ash and fresh ink. The handwriting was elegant, deliberate—and serious.
My Lady,
I apologize for writing to you at such an hour, but I did not wish this message to pass through to you from any other source. What I did tonight was not clean, nor noble, but I believe it necessary.
Alaric Trévér is dead.
The newspapers will confirm this in the coming days, but they won't know the truth behind it. I made it happen. Or rather, I pulled the strings to ensure it would.
The blade that ended him belonged to Claude Voclain—a disgraced cousin of Maximilian. Easy to tempt, easy to control. Angry at the Trévérs for humiliating his father years ago. Claude believed he was acting of his own will. I simply gave him direction… and opportunity.
The corpse was found tonight in the Trévér estate vineyards. Carved into his chest with a dagger:
"The Trévér line will end."
That message will set fire to every heart in their house. Alina will scream for vengeance. Charles will rally. And the Voclain name is now written in blood across the body of a Trévér.
You might ask me why.
Alaric was not an innocent. He was Roman Trévér's confidant, his political fixer, his blackmailer. He trafficked in dark spells and illegal contracts. He threatened witnesses who could have exposed Roman's dealings with the American black market. His hands were soaked in filth.
He deserved it.
As you gave the order, and I made sure no innocents were harmed or entangled.
You asked for blood, my lady. Now it's begun.
You must prepare yourself. The next days will be quite interesting.
—Emma
Eira lowered the letter slowly, her expression unreadable in the half-light.
Her wandlight flickered as her grip tightened.
For several long minutes, she said nothing. She simply sat there, the firelight in her eyes reflecting neither horror nor approval. Just awareness.
Then she said:
"I'm sorry—for being a hypocrite, for taking your life, and for destroying others in the process. Unfortunately, I've had to resort to these tactics to preserve my own life and power.
In my previous life, I despised politicians—for their lies, for playing with people's lives, for exploiting the public, and for enriching themselves while making life harder for ordinary citizens. But now… I understand. They committed those terrible acts to survive, to hold on to their power, even if it meant betraying the very people who trusted them.
And now, I've become what I once hated. Just like them.
Whether you were good or bad doesn't change the truth: I took your life to serve my own goals. You became sacrifices on my path forward. And for that, I am truly sorry.
But if I hadn't… I would have been someone else's sacrifice."
⸻
Three Days Later — Le Monde Magique
HEADLINE: PURE-BLOOD FEUD TURNS BLOODY — TRÉVÉR HEIR FOUND DEAD
In a shocking turn of events, Alaric Trévér, cousin of the infamous Alina Trévér and former political associate of the late Roman Trévér, was found dead in the early hours of the morning in the Trévér estate vineyards in southeastern France.
The body was discovered with a chilling message carved into the chest:
"The Trévér line will end."
The Trévér family has not yet released a statement. However, internal sources confirm that tensions within the noble circle have reached a breaking point. Rumors suggest that Claude Voclain, a lesser member of the Voclain family, was seen fleeing the region hours before the discovery.
Political analysts suspect that this was a retaliatory attack linked to the recent escalation between the Voclain and Trévér houses, which reached a peak during the informal "hearing" involving the White family.
⸻
HEADLINE: FRANCE MINISTRY OF MAGIC APPROVES DUEL OF HONOR — DATE SET
After years of escalating tensions, and recent bloodshed, the French Ministry of Magic has formally approved a Duel of Honor between the House of Voclain and the House of Trévér. This will be the first fully sanctioned duel between two high families in over a century.
The duel will be public.
It will be held in the Old Arena of Caudebec, a magically reinforced coliseum once used during the Wars of Succession. Wards are already being placed, and space is being reserved for spectators from international pure-blood families, several diplomatic attachés, and members of various European Ministries of Magic.
From House Voclain, the representative will be Lord Maximilian Voclain.
From House Trévér… the name has not yet been confirmed. Some whisper that Charles Trévér may take the stand himself. While some say Charles Trévér himself may not participate and has plans to name a younger duelist.
Public interest is high. International tension is higher.
⸻
At Beauxbâtons, Eira stood by one of the grand stairwell windows, reading the newspaper as the enchanted headlines shifted like ink waves across the page. Behind her, students murmured about the duel, about the murder, about the cursed families.
But Eira read in silence.
She didn't flinch at the news as she was already aware of it.
Now the duel was officially confirmed.
when she reached the line about Maximilian she pause, her eyes narrowing slightly.
Then she folded the paper neatly.
And smiled.