Anya moved first, closing the distance in a heartbeat. Serin followed half a step behind, rushing toward the boy.

  The smile didn't leave his face, though it vanished behind armor made of corruption. Similar to what he'd used against Emberheart, but more advanced now. Instead of one solid piece, the corruption spread in small separate chunks that interwove like chainmail. If it got frozen, he could break the armor apart. If it got burned, it could reform.

  Serin's form flickered as they closed in, their back legs and tail morphing into a trail of pure mana that propelled them forward like a comet.

  When they hit the corruption armor, it immediately retreated, recoiling from the touch of pure mana. In that instant, Anya arrived. She extended her hand and touched the boy's chest.

  She hadn't drawn any magic circles. No symbols, no gestures beyond the simple movement of reaching out. For the boy, that meant whatever she was about to do wasn't dangerous.

  The moment she made contact, he realized how wrong he'd been.

  Mana surged around him. Vines manifested from nothing, wrapping around his body and slipping under the corruption armor, binding his limbs and rooting him in place.

  He tried to pull back. The corruption around him lashed forward, reaching for Anya, but Serin was already there. The spirit spun around her arm like a living shield, blocking every tendril that got close.

  "What sort of magic is that?!" He strained against the vines. "You didn't draw a circle!"

  "My brother would know that." Anya's voice was quiet. Sad.

  Anya was a wild magic user. An old form of magic that had been replaced long ago by the modern system of circles and symbols. While normal magic only required the correct patterns to be drawn, wild magic required something deeper. A connection to the world itself, to your own mana, to the intent behind every movement. Every gesture had to reflect what you wanted, so the world would follow.

  And Anya was good enough at it to have earned a place at Celestia Academy.

  She drew back slowly, her movements measured and deliberate. The vines held.

  "Release my brother." It wasn't a command. Wasn't even really a request. Just words said into the void with nothing behind them but hope.

  "Of course!" The corruption replied brightly, still struggling against the bindings. "If you give me your body, I'll leave his."

  Anya knew it was a trap. It was obvious. Even if the corruption could leave, even if it would, there was no guarantee her brother would be there underneath.

  But was there any other way?

  Serin sensed her hesitation and moved to stand directly between her and the boy, as if preparing to physically stop her if she tried to accept.

  "Prove it to me." Anya's voice broke slightly. "That he's alive."

  "What do you want? Want to talk to him?"

  Anya hesitated.

  "Yes. Please."

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  The boy suppressed his smile. Most of the real memories were gone, consumed or corrupted beyond recognition. But pretending to be her brother wouldn't be hard. She wanted him to be alive. She'd fill in the gaps herself, see what she wanted to see, just to let herself believe.

  The corruption drew back from his face. The empty expression changed. First confusion, then fear, then desperate hope. He looked at Anya with wide eyes.

  "Sis? Did you beat him?" The words came fast, tumbling over each other. "Am I free? I was so scared, I didn't know if you'd come, I thought—"

  Anya took a step forward. Tears were already streaming down her face. She wanted to get closer, to touch him, to tell him everything was fine now, that she'd found him, that they could go home.

  But Serin was there between them. A gentle reminder of what was real.

  "I'm sorry." Anya said it to the ground, not to him. She couldn't look at his face. "I'm sorry for everything."

  "What do you mean, sis?" He hesitated, just for a moment. Then the fear came back. "You mean he's still here? Please, you have to do something. I don't want to be here anymore. I want to go home."

  As he spoke, corruption was eating away at the vines. Slowly, methodically, working through the bindings. Soon he'd be free. And even if she didn't touch him directly, he just needed a moment of distraction.

  "I'm sorry I didn't go with you." Anya continued like he hadn't spoken at all. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect our home. Sorry I didn't find you in time." Her voice cracked. "You must have been so scared."

  "Sis?" He looked confused now. "You don't need to apologize. Everything will be fine. We'll be together again."

  The vines were about to give. He was just waiting for the right moment.

  But she wasn't listening to him anymore. She finally looked up, focusing on his face. Really looking, like she was trying to memorize every detail. Like it was the last time.

  "I'm sorry I let you die." She held his gaze. "Goodbye."

  "What do you mean? I'm here. I'm still here!"

  Anya wiped her face and turned her back to him.

  He took it as his chance. The vines snapped. He lunged forward.

  "Thank you."

  Two words. Quiet. Not meant for him.

  "Who—"

  Something cold pierced through his chest from behind. He looked down and saw the dagger, shadow mana already spreading from the blade like ink in water.

  "Shut up." Nico's voice was low, barely more than a whisper. "Don't ruin this moment for her."

  Even if he'd wanted to protest, to scream, to make one last appeal, the shadow magic had already spread to his throat. The words died there, unspoken.

  The corruption began to move. The body it had been using was useless now, the connection severed. It tried to reach Nico, but he'd already pulled back. Only a shadow held the dagger in place now.

  As the corruption lost its form and began to dissipate, it held onto a single thought. That maybe it would be found by the others. That maybe it would get another host. That maybe, somehow, it would get revenge.

  Holding onto hope.

  How human.

  Anya didn't turn around.

  She stood there, Serin pressed against her legs, and listened to the sounds behind her. The wet collapse of something that used to be a body..

  Nico appeared at her side, silent as always. He didn't say anything. Didn't offer comfort or platitudes. Just stood there, his presence a confirmation that it was over.

  "Was that the right choice?" Anya asked after a long moment.

  "There was no right choice." Nico's voice was even, matter-of-fact. "Only the one you could live with."

  Serin made a soft sound, somewhere between a whimper and a growl.

  Anya finally turned around. Where her brother's body had been, there was nothing. Just scorched earth and fading traces of corruption. Like he'd never been there at all.

  Like he'd died months ago in a forest, alone and scared, without anyone to help him.

  "We should go," Nico said. "The others need us."

  Anya nodded. She couldn't find words, so she just moved. One foot in front of the other. Serin stayed close, a warm presence against her leg.

  As they walked back toward the academy, Anya allowed herself one final thought.

  I hope you're at peace now.

  Then she pushed it down, deep where it couldn't hurt as much, and focused on what came next.

  There was still a battle to fight.