The flames had died down. The runes on the stone floor had dulled, leaving behind faint
trails of light still pulsing beneath the surface like the heartbeat of ancient magic. The
ritual was complete.
Cassian lay curled within a silken wrap, his breathing soft and steady. His skin glowed
faintly still, the remnants of power slowly settling into his bones. The transformation had
taken its toll—his small form limp with exhaustion—but he slept peacefully, his face
relaxed, untroubled.
Edric knelt beside him, brushing a hand gently through his son's dark hair. He didn't
speak. He only watched.
Behind him, Seraphine was half-sitting, arms shaking slightly from the sheer magical
strain they had endured. Her silver-blonde hair was damp against her neck, her eyes
tired but soft as they lingered on the boy. "He's alright," she whispered, almost as if
saying it aloud would make it more real. "It worked."
Edric nodded once. "Yes. It did."
It took nearly an hour to clean the circle, to gather the last traces of residue from the
ritual chamber. They carried Cassian back through the tunnel to the keep, where the
wards shimmered faintly, recognizing their presence. The old Vaerendral fortress was
still quiet, cloaked in a kind of sacred stillness that had followed them from the ritual.
Cassian was already half-conscious when Seraphine laid him into the large bed in one of
the restored guest chambers. Athena leapt up beside him immediately, curling into a
protective ball near his feet. The boy shifted once, murmured something soft in his
sleep, and stilled.
Seraphine leaned down, kissed his forehead, and whispered something in French too
soft to hear.
When the door was closed behind them, Edric slid an arm around her shoulders. "Come
on," he said quietly. "We should rest, too."
The keep's master chamber was lit only by a pair of floating candles, dim and flickering.
The fire in the hearth had gone cold. They didn't need heat—the wards had seen to that.
Edric shrugged off his cloak and robes, leaving them in a pile on the nearby chair, while
Seraphine slid into bed in silence.
She was asleep before she finished curling into his side.
Edric exhaled slowly, one arm wrapping around her waist. Her body was warm, soft
against his. Her breathing, steady.
"We should leave tomorrow," he said quietly, mostly to himself. "First light."
Seraphine stirred faintly but didn't open her eyes.
"I'll get a Portkey," he went on. "We'll head south. Somewhere warm."
There was a pause. Then her voice, sleep-heavy and gentle: "Do you think… we could go
to Egypt?"
He smiled at the ceiling. "Egypt?"
"Mmm," she murmured, nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck. "The alchemy. The
old temples. I want to see the Nile."
"Of course," he whispered.
"Or Greece," she added. "I've always wanted to see the Isles… the old ruins. Delphi.
Maybe even Rome again."
She didn't finish the last word.
Her breath slowed. Sleep took her like the tide.
Edric turned his head and looked down at her peaceful face, brushing his fingers lightly
through her hair.
"I'll take you anywhere you want," he whispered, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
But when he laid back again, eyes on the ceiling, the unease had returned. That familiar
thread of tension in his chest—tight, cold, unshakable. It had been building for days,
weeks now.
And it was louder than ever.
He didn't know what was coming.
But something was.
And it was close.
—————————————————
Cassian's Dream – Awareness
Cassian slowly came to his senses.
He was floating—weightless, formless—suspended in a sea of shifting lights. The world
around him wasn't black or cold or dead. If anything, it was warm. Like drifting inside a
lava lamp made of stardust and magic. The colors pulsed softly around him: silver and
blue, deep golden strands that throbbed faintly with life.
It was beautiful.
It should have been beautiful.
But Cassian was too confused to care.
He looked down at his hands—well, what should've been his hands—but found only
light. There was no breath.
No heartbeat.
No sensation.
Just presence.
Awareness.
"What the hell?" he muttered—or maybe just thought. His voice didn't exactly carry in
this place. It echoed inside his own mind, faint and detached.
Where was he?
"I did die, right?"
That was the last thing he remembered.
Chemo. Hospitals. That weird numbness in the end.
"I'm pretty sure I died."
And yet… here he was.
"So it doesn't end with death after all," he mused dryly. "I guess Dumbledore was right.
'The next great adventure,' and all that."
Or maybe—maybe the chemo fried his brain. Maybe he never died at all and this was
just some weird drug trip right before the lights went out.
Because this—floating in a magical screensaver from the early 2000s—was not on his
bingo card for the afterlife.
He let out a quiet, humorless chuckle.
"Fantastic."
Then, the stars pulsed.
The light around him twisted, moved—and the dream shifted.
The lights weren't just drifting anymore. They were moving toward him, pulled into him.
One thread of magic, one strand of energy at a time. And with every thread, something
ignited inside his mind.
Memories.
A crying baby floating, wobbling mid-air. Tiny glowing clouds beneath tiny feet. A black
cat—Athena—curling around him like a guardian.
A lullaby in French. A soft, beautiful voice humming. Pale hair. Kind eyes. A kiss on the
forehead.
Then a man. Tall. Calm. Wand flicking, sending sparks through the air. Birds made of
light dancing around a giggling child.
It took him a second to realize the child was him.
"No… What is this?"
More scenes followed. The cat. A flat in Rome. A house-elf chasing after him because he
refused to wear socks. Falling asleep in his mother's arms. Learning languages like
second nature. Laughter. Soft voices. Magic.
His heart should have raced. His breath should have caught.
But he didn't have either.
Just thoughts.
Panic.
Questions.
"This is insane. This can't be real, right?"
He tried to move, to scream, to wake up.
Nothing. He swiped at his arm—missed. His hand passed through him. He didn't even
have a hand.
And still, the memories kept coming.
Rome. The portkey. The ritual.
Blood. Runes. Chanting. Flames. Blue light.
Then—agony.
He saw himself floating, writhing, glowing. His veins burned like molten fire. His chest
twisted inside out. He screamed—and then everything went silent.
He was floating again.
Alone.
The colors were gone now. Just stars. Endless stars.
And something inside him cracked open.
A dam.
A wall.
And his past life—every inch of it—flooded back in.
Cambridge. His studies. The history. The mythology. The obsession with ancient things
and forgotten places. Old books. Quiet corners. Empty apartments.
Parents who never saw him for who he was. Who had him because they were supposed
to. Then disappeared, even while still alive.
And when they finally died—he didn't cry. He didn't feel much at all.
Colleagues who offered him pity in polite doses, never realizing they didn't know him at
all.
A life lived in silence. Alone.
And now this?
A second chance?
Or some cosmic joke?
"Or maybe I really didn't die," he muttered to no one. "Maybe the meds cooked my brain
and now I'm hallucinating."
He rolled his eyes. "Brilliant. Survive life. Die of cancer. And now I'm a glowing toddler
with a floating cat."
He tried to laugh. It came out hollow.
He didn't know what this meant.
Didn't know what he was supposed to be now.
But he remembered. Everything.
And all those dreams—castles, towers, ancient names—weren't dreams.
They were memories.
Before he could even process it, the stars began to shake.
The void trembled, like reality itself was calling him back.
And then—he heard a voice.
Faint. Panicked.
"…Master Cassian, wake up! Please! Bad people outside! Please wake up!"
His eyelids fluttered.
And for the first time in this new life—
He woke up.
—————————————————
November 1st, 1978 – Before Dawn
Inside the Keep, Wiltshire
Cassian gasped.
The dream shattered into pieces, scattering like dust in the wind, and he shot upright in
bed.
His breath came fast—even though it felt like he hadn't been breathing at all. His skin
was cold. His limbs heavy. His heart… beating. It was all real.
The room around him swam in soft shadows, the dim blue of early morning peeking
through the cracked shutters. His bed was large for someone his size, draped in old
velvet sheets and warmed by faint runes carved into the stone beneath. Athena stirred at
the foot of the bed, raising her head with a soft purr.
Before he could even begin to process what was happening, a sound—deep, earth
shaking—rumbled through the keep. The very walls groaned.
Like an earthquake.
"What—"
Tipsy.
The little house-elf rushed in, panic written across her wide eyes. "Young Master must
come now! Bad wizards! They are outside! Wards are screaming!"
Cassian blinked.
He was still half in shock. Still not fully here. Still not—
Tipsy snapped her fingers, and in a flash of soft blue light, he was out of bed, clothed in
warm robes. She grabbed his hand—her fingers cold and shaking—and tugged him
urgently toward the hallway.
"Wait, I—"
"No time! Master and Mistress are packing! Must go now!"
They rushed through the corridor, past ancient portraits and candle sconces that
f
lickered wildly as the keep shook again, harder this time. Cassian had to brace himself
against the wall to stay upright.
They turned a corner. Reached the main chambers. The door to his parents' room was
open—inside, chaos.
His mother stood near the bed, throwing potion vials and tightly sealed pouches into a
leather satchel. His father was already dressed, wand drawn, muttering protective
enchantments with every breath.
Edric looked up the moment they entered. His eyes went straight to Cassian.
He crossed the room in three long strides and scooped Cassian up, holding him tight.
"Tipsy, everything?"
"Yes, Master!" she nodded frantically, holding up another bag. "Everything in the list.
Everything Tipsy packed!"
Seraphine's hands were trembling as she fastened the bag shut. "Who is it?" she asked.
Edric walked over to the window and peered into the darkness beyond. His jaw
clenched.
"I don't know," he said. "But whoever it is, they're powerful. They've torn through the
outer wards like parchment." His voice dropped lower. "They knew the structure. Knew
how to break it. Could be a cursebreaker. Or worse."
Seraphine's breath caught. "The smugglers?"
"No. Too fast. Too precise. This is a coordinated strike."
Another tremor. The walls shook. A long, low groan echoed through the stone, and
distant cracks sounded like thunder.
Edric turned away from the window and opened his palm. A pendant appeared in his
hand—worn silver, shaped like a coin, etched with glowing glyphs.
"Grab my hand."
Seraphine took one side. Cassian clung to his father's shoulder. Tipsy wrapped her
f
ingers around Seraphine's wrist.
Edric whispered the activation word. "Emergentia."
Nothing happened.
Seraphine looked at him. "What's wrong?"
"They've sealed the air. Anti-Apparition, Anti-Portkey. Whoever's behind this came
prepared."
A silence hung between them.
Then Edric turned to Tipsy.
"Take Cassian. Go below the ritual chamber. There's a cave beneath the leyline junction.
The convergence will mask your presence."
Tipsy's ears drooped. "But Master—"
"Now!"
He slipped his Lord ring from his finger, conjured a fine silver chain, and fastened it into a
necklace. Seraphine followed suit
—her House ring and the protective Fontaine Necklace joining his on the chain.
She knelt before Cassian and fastened the necklace around his neck, eyes shining.
"You hold onto this," she whispered. "And no matter what happens, you remember that
we love you."
Edric bent down, brushed Cassian's hair back, and looked him in the eyes. "You're going
to live, Cassian. You're going to carry us forward. Whatever happens."
Cassian couldn't speak. His throat was tight. His body numb.
Tipsy tugged his arm gently, but before they could leave—
The wall exploded.
Stone and ash burst inward. The force knocked them back.
Part of the keep collapsed, filling the chamber with dust and rubble. When it cleared,
dozens of figures stood on the other side.
Death Eaters. Vampires. Werewolves. And others—filth from the darkest corners of the
magical world.
Cassian's heart stopped.
At the center of the invaders stood a tall, snake-faced figure, wand in hand, red eyes
gleaming with cruel anticipation.
Voldemort.
Behind him, cloaked and unreadable, stood the Cursebreaker.
Edric stepped in front of his son and wife, wand raised. "Get him out," he said quietly.
"No matter what."
Cassian could only stare, too stunned to speak, as the nightmare began.
Edric stepped forward, his wand already in hand, his posture straight and steady as
stone. Between him and the tide of death stood only a few feet of broken stone floor—
and yet he might as well have been a fortress.
Without turning, his voice cut through the tense air, low and firm. "Sera… no matter what
happens, I love you."
Cassian saw her eyes widen, her breath catch.
"Take the vampires," Edric continued. "Your speed, your reflexes—you're better suited.
I'll buy you as much time as I can."
He barely finished before a voice slithered through the broken keep—cold, inhuman,
soaked in cruel amusement.
"Ah… the mighty Vaerendral," Voldemort hissed, stepping from the shadows like a
phantom. "Always so noble. So predictable."
Cassian felt something grip his chest. The man's voice felt wrong—like it didn't belong in
this world. Every word pulled at the edges of reality, like it could unravel the very air
around them.
Voldemort's red eyes gleamed as he studied Edric. "Tell me—how many of your proud
family are left now? One? Two? This is what your legacy has become?"
Edric didn't answer. His wand hand tightened.
Voldemort stepped forward again, almost gliding. "You could have knelt. Joined me. I
would have spared the boy."
"I will never kneel to a parasite like you," Edric said quietly.
There was no hatred in his voice—just calm certainty.
Voldemort's lips curled into something resembling a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Then you die with him."
The moment shattered.
The first spell lit the darkness.
A red bolt screamed across the hall. Edric didn't dodge—he met it head-on, wand
raised.
"Protego Maxima!"
The shield exploded into being—silver and blazing—and the bolt splintered against it like
glass. Dust rained from the ceiling. The keep trembled again.
And then the real battle began.
Cassian's ears filled with sound. Screams. Explosions. The whine of spells tearing
through the air.
Edric moved like lightning, his coat snapping around him. A flick of his wand—three
Death Eaters crumpled like dolls. Another flick—silver fire erupted and sent a pair of
vampires into retreat.
"Sera, now!" he barked.
Seraphine didn't hesitate.
She vanished in a flash of motion, her figure blurred by speed as she launched herself at
the vampires on the right flank.
The keep lit up in chaos.
Vampires shrieked, moving impossibly fast—but Seraphine was faster. A graceful twist,
and her wand sliced through the air.
"Fulgura Caeli!"
Blinding white light arced through the air, striking three vampires mid-leap. They dropped
like stones, convulsing.
Cassian stood frozen as magic surged all around him.
Tipsy grabbed his hand, dragging him backward, trying to shield him, but he couldn't
look away.
Voldemort raised his wand again—and Edric met him, spell for spell.
Cassian couldn't breathe.
The flames danced like serpents—no, like a dragon—rising from the stone floor in a
towering inferno. His father stood at the heart of it all, a silhouette of sheer defiance,
arms outstretched, magic bursting from him like a storm.
Fiendfyre.
But not the wild, chaotic blaze he'd read about. This was something else—controlled,
shaped, alive.
A dragon made of fire and fury coiled in the air, wings spread, eyes glowing with the
same cold silver as Edric's. With a final cry of magic, Edric hurled the beast forward.
The fire roared—screaming across the battlefield.
It devoured everything in its path.
Vampires screeched, incinerated in mid-leap. Death Eaters scrambled back, some
Apparating too late. Even the smugglers and dark wizards who hid behind the cursed
wards were consumed, their screams swallowed by the blaze.
Cassian could only stare. Dumbledore's tales of fire and war—of the Inferi and
Grindelwald's darkness—none of it compared to what his father had become.
A force of nature.
A legend reborn.
And then—
A hand seized his shoulder, yanking him back.
Cassian turned, heart racing.
It was his mother.
Seraphine was pale, her face bloodied, hair soaked and clinging to her cheeks. Gashes
ran across her forehead and collarbone. One of her arms hung limp at her side, but her
grip was iron.
She shoved him aside—hard.
Cassian stumbled, hitting the stone just as the spell struck.
A blast of green light filled the air.
It hit her square in the chest.
Cassian heard the snap of bone, the horrible crack that echoed across the shattered
hall. She screamed, staggering, but somehow didn't fall.
Her hand went to her belt. A vial—deep red—shimmering with volatile energy.
She downed it in a single motion.
The shaking stopped for just a second. Then she took out a second vial, filled with
glowing silver liquid, and hurled it into the chaos. It exploded mid-air, releasing a
shockwave of light that sent dark creatures shrieking backward.
Cassian cried out, trying to run to her.
"No!" she shouted, voice rasping. "Stay there!"
She lifted her wand.
Her voice changed.
It wasn't Latin.
It wasn't any spell Cassian had ever heard.
It was… music. Ancient, haunting.
"Nai atarwa nórienna, silme ná caluva, melme ar órë na nallë."
("By ancient right and sacred light, love and heart become the shield.")
The air shifted.
Around Cassian, the ground lit up with soft, glowing runes—blue and white, weaving into
a dome of pure energy. A barrier rose like liquid glass, forming a cocoon around him.
The noise dulled.
Everything became distant.
He reached for her—his hands pressed against the barrier—but he couldn't pass
through. He could only watch.
Seraphine turned, blood still pouring down her side, her wand raised high. More spells
f
lew—some blocked, others returned. And still, she chanted.
"Auta i lómë, ranya na alya, ná elenath araniel lye."
("Night shall pass, run to safety, for you are heir to the starlit bloodline.")
Cassian had never seen her like this.
Not his quiet mother. Not the woman who read him bedtime stories and sang lullabies.
This was something else.
A final act of defiance.
Cassian barely had time to process the swirling light of the protective barrier before the
unthinkable happened.
A flash of black darted behind Seraphine.
"No!" he screamed.
Seraphine turned, wand already half-raised—but it was too late.
A vampire slammed his hand straight through her back, piercing her chest. Her body
arched as a gasp tore through her lips, blood spilling from her mouth.
And then, her eyes lost their light.
She crumpled to the ground.
The vampire snarled and turned on Cassian—only to be flung across the chamber the
moment he touched the glowing barrier Seraphine had conjured. His body shattered into
dust against the wall.
Cassian stood frozen, shaking.
Then came the voice.
His father's voice.
Cold. Deep. Rage coiled beneath every syllable like a storm waiting to explode.
"I did not seek revenge," Edric said, stepping forward, his eyes locked on Voldemort.
"Not even after you slaughtered my uncle and his children. I did not rise against you
when you razed ancient bloodlines to the ground like they meant nothing. I had my
family. And they were worth more than anything you could destroy."
His voice turned to steel.
"And now you've taken her from me."
He turned, gaze locking onto the Curse Breaker hidden beneath his hooded cloak.
"You brought him."
The man stepped forward, his voice calm, smug. "Hand over the map—and perhaps
you'll live."
Edric laughed. But it was empty.
"So this is about parchment. A scorched, half-burnt scrap.
That is what all this death is for?" His voice trembled, not with fear, but with fury. "That is
what my wife died for?"
His wand rose.
"A Vaerendral never kneels."
A massive pulse of power tore through the battlefield. Vampires, werewolves—dozens of
dark creatures were reduced to ash. The walls of the keep cracked as Voldemort was
hurled through the air, slamming into stone.
Before he could rise, Edric conjured a golem from the rubble and flung it at him.
Then he turned on the Curse Breaker.
With a single, ancient Greek incantation, he unleashed a spell that hadn't seen the light
of day in centuries. The Curse Breaker screamed. Blood poured from his eyes, nose,
mouth—his flesh blistered, liquefied. Green fire erupted from within him, burning him
alive from the inside out.
There was nothing left when the flames vanished. Even his soul did not pass on.
Voldemort roared in rage, shattering the golem into shards of stone.
"You dare—" he hissed, limping forward, one arm bent at a sickening angle. "You dare
make me bleed?"
He raised his wand.
Edric raised his.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A green flash screamed through the air—but Edric didn't chant.
He just raised his wand, and a blinding blue light met the Killing Curse midair. Magic
collided, crackling like lightning. The air split with energy.
"You took her from me," Edric snarled. "And now—die."
The spell intensified. The blue light overwhelmed the green. At the last moment,
Voldemort twisted aside, and the blast slammed into the left side of his body.
His arm disintegrated. His ribs shattered. Part of his torso tore open. He fell back,
gasping, blood pouring from him.
And still—he lived.
Edric was shaking now. Pale. Barely standing.
"You… What have you sacrificed?" Voldemort growled. "To hold that kind of power—
what did you give up?"
"You truly are an abomination," Edric whispered.
Voldemort looked around. Almost all his forces were dead.
He turned to the survivors—what few remained.
"Retreat."
And he vanished in a flash of smoke.
Cassian stood there, too stunned to speak, surrounded by ruins and bodies and blood.
His father stumbled toward Seraphine's fallen form and dropped to his knees beside her.
He gathered her into his arms and held her close, silent tears streaking his dirt-covered
face.
Then he looked up at Cassian.
He waved his hand.
Two wands—his and Seraphine's—floated toward Cassian. They passed through the
protective barrier and landed in the bag.
The light of the barrier faded, turning to starlight.
The barrier shimmered—then shattered into starlight, a thousand glimmering fragments
scattering like fireflies in the air. For a moment, they hovered, suspended in silence…
and then they rushed inward, pulled toward him. Cassian gasped as the starlight surged
into his chest, warmth blooming deep within, strange and electric. It wasn't painful—just
overwhelming. Like something ancient had been passed on. Something final.
Strands of silver-white shimmered into his dark hair, glinting faintly in the flickering ruin
light. His eyes, once a pale silvery-blue, deepened—clearer now, like sapphire glass
laced with starlight. They gleamed, threaded through with silver, and in that moment,
something inside him shifted.
Cassian collapsed to his knees and cried.
Edric's voice broke through the silence.
"In the bag you're carrying… there's everything you need," he said gently. "The grimoire.
The inheritance. Seraphine's necklace."
"Never lose these. Your great-grandfather will find you with the necklace. You have to
leave Britain."
He touched Cassian's cheek.
"You were meant to be special. Even I don't understand what you are yet… but I know
this."
Edric took a slow, painful breath.
"You were my son. My everything."
He gave the faintest of smiles.
"We named you Cassian because on the night you were born, the star shone brightest in
the sky. You were the light in our darkness. Our hope. Our future."
He placed a battered silver pocket watch in Cassian's palm.
"This is a compass. When it glows, press it. It will take you to safety."
His eyes, dimming now, flicked up one last time.
"From now on… trust only Arcturus Black and your great-grandfather. No one else."
He leaned in, kissed Cassian's forehead.
"I love you."
Then, Edric turned his body toward the river, his arms still around Seraphine.
His hand fell limp.
The compass began to glow.
Magic pulsed through the air, forming a dome around Cassian as the waters below
parted and revealed the path.
The last of Edric Vaerendral's magic threw Cassian into the river's current, shielding him
in light.
The world twisted—and Cassian was gone.
Swallowed by the stream, carried by ancient waters, into the unknown.