❝𝐈 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝.❞
Jupiter Black has been isolated from the outside world her entire life up until the age of thirteen. During a duel with her mother, Jupiter tragically witnesses her death and flees from...
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𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 6
THE PROTECTIVE DOME SHIMMERS IN THE DISTANCE, a wavering veil of magic stretched thin over the castle. It burns ferociously, a bright orange glow, flickering against the blackening sky like a raging heartbeat. My blue eyes are locked on it, and I can almost feel the heat through the glass window.
They won't be kept out for long. Neither will she. I'm mumbling spells under my breath—new ones. Ones I've created. The dome falls. Instantly, an overwhelming wave of dark magic crashes through me. It's starting. My skin flickers over and a disguise raises over me. I'll need to defend the defenceless, the students who shouldn't be in this fight.
I take in a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment before aparating. The Great Hall is a battlefield—an eruption of chaos and blood, where fear hangs heavy in the air like smoke. Spells flash like lightning, tearing through stone and flesh alike. The screams of the wounded twist together with the thunderous roar of combat.
I've killed before. But this time, it's different. This time, it's not for proving my dedication. This time, it's to defend.
A Death Eater rushes at me from the left, his mask cracked, his robes stained crimson with someone else's blood. He's clumsy, desperate. "Avada Kedavra." The killing curse leaves my wand with effortless precision, green light slashing through the air. He's dead before his brain can even process it. His body crumples mid-step, momentum carrying him forward until he collapses at my feet. I step over him without a second glance, the steel edge of my focus unbroken.
Another figure appears—hulking, broad-shouldered, his mask a grotesque leer. He fires a curse at me, purple light slicing toward my chest. My body reacts before my mind does. My eyes and palms glow a faint blue, and a shimmering projection shield blooms from my skin, silvery and translucent. The curse slams into it, ricocheting harmlessly to the side.
My lips curl into a cold smile. "Pathetic." I flick my wand. I sound like Theodora. The spell rips through his shield charm like it's paper. The explosion hurls him backward, his body slamming into the stone wall with a sickening crunch. When he slumps to the ground, blood pools beneath him, his mask shattered. He doesn't move again.
I press forward, my body a force of nature. My appearance begins to shift unconsciously—my hair darkens further, my features sharpen, my eyes turn a vivid, inhuman silver that reflects the flashes of battle like mirrors. Let them see what I am. Let them fear it, because they won't escape me.
The students are scattered across the hall, clutching their wands like lifelines. They're just children, out of their depth, terrified. I see two of them—barely older than eleven—pushed into a corner by a cackling witch. Her hair is wild, her face twisted with manic glee.
"Come here, little ones," she croons, her wand sparking with malicious energy. "Don't make me chase you. I love a good hunt." Her laughter is cut short as I step into view. My wand rises. The spell hits her throat, sharp and merciless. Blood sprays, her eyes wide with shock as she collapses, gurgling and clawing at the air. I don't stop to watch her die. She isn't worth my time.
