The Storm Sphere churns, charged the air with crackling tension. Blindness blankets the battlefield. Reyna stumbles forward, her world reduced to sound and touch as darkness grips her. Her fingers stretch out searching for any sense of direction in the void. The violent thrashing from within her Storm Sphere echoes across the field, and she seizes upon this. Lightning courses through the sphere as Reyna channels her power, releasing two brilliant bolts into the churning magical barrier. The electricity dances and sparks, but no shouts of pain pierce the night air. Reyna’s heart sinks—both strikes have found only empty space where she hoped to find her infernal target.
The flash and rumble of Reyna’s lightning jolts KFC from her darkness-driven slumber. She blinks rapidly, expecting her vision to clear, but the world remains an impenetrable black canvas. Panic threatens to overwhelm her until she senses a familiar presence nearby. “My eyes are back, KFC, I can see!” Squid’s young voice cuts through her despair. Without hesitation, KFC barks her demand for the child to guide her toward the devil. She feels Squid’s small, warm hand slip into her much larger palm, and allows the child to pull her up the winding path toward whatever horror awaits.
Near the stone-lined path, Alister’s eyes strain uselessly against the magical blindness that has stolen their sight. The distinctive crackle of Reyna’s electrical magic draws them like a moth to flame, and their desperate hands sweep across the ground until they rediscover the puddle of holy water, still cool and pure despite the chaos around it. With practiced precision, they weave ice magic through the sacred liquid, conjuring a crystalline blade that gleams with divine purpose. Step by careful step, they navigate toward the source of the commotion.
Inside the roiling Storm Sphere, Orestes writhes with diabolic fury. The devil’s burning eyes, bulging blindly at what they cannot perceive on the battlefield. With calculated malice, it conjures three spheres of hellfire. Each orb pulses with infernal heat as Orestes hurls them toward the last known positions of two of its tormentors. The first two fiery motes go screaming toward Reyna. Only one finds its mark, striking the chef with explosive force. The third streaks through the air and crashes into Alister, who crumples to the earth with a cry of agony, their body going terrifyingly still as death’s shadow falls across them.
This sickening thud of a falling body reaches Beckaylee’s ears through the supernatural darkness. She stumbles blindly in the direction of the sound, her hands outstretched until they find fabric and flesh—Alister’s prone form, clothing still smoldering from hellish flame, chest no longer rising and falling. Without hesitation, she places her palms against their scorched body and channels divine healing energy. Golden light flows from her fingers like liquid starlight, and beneath her touch, Alister’s body jerks back to life. Their eyes flutter open as they roll over and shakily push themselves back to standing.
As if a veil has been lifted from her eyes, Reyna’s vision suddenly snaps back into crystal clarity. She can now see the devil’s dark silhouette writhing within her magical prison, but the creature’s constant thrashing makes it nearly impossible to target. She raises her hands again, electricity dancing between her fingers, but each bolt she sends crackling into the sphere strikes only churning air as the devil’s erratic movements carry it away from harm.
Across the field, Alister’s groping fingers close around the hilt of the ice knife they dropped. With renewed determination, they leap skyward, their form blurring and shrinking into their bat form. Wings carry them through the night air, the Ice Knife clutched in their feet. They swoop toward the Storm Sphere, clutching the holy ice blade in their tiny claws, and drive the weapon deep into the magical barrier. The knife pierces through to strike the devil’s flesh, and the holy water that composes the blade hisses and steams as it burns into infernal skin. The sacred liquid traces scorching trails down the devil ’s form, each drop a torment beyond mortal comprehension.
Orestes throws back its horned head and releases a bellow that shakes the very foundations of Odalynne’s cabin. The sound is equal parts agony and unbridled rage, echoing across the battlefield like thunder.. When the terrible cry fades, those who can see witness the devil’s eyes blazing with renewed clarity—its vision is fully restored. The creature’s gaze fixes upon Debbie with predatory focus, and it snarls as it conjures three more flames in rapid succession. “DEBBIE!” it roars as the first fiery missile whooshes past her head. “DEBBIE!” it bellows again as the second sphere of flame sails wide of its mark. But the third strike finds its target with devastating precision, slamming into the musician’s chest with explosive force. She collapses, her body hitting the grass with a sound that chills every heart present. “She is dead!” Orestes crows, capering with devilish glee before vanishing in a puff of sulfurous smoke, leaving only the empty Storm Sphere spinning ominously in the night air.
Vision flooding back to each of the hexmates in turn, they converge on Debbie’s fallen form with desperate urgency. One by one, they kneel beside her still body, pouring their medical energies into stabilizing Debbie, but each attempt seems to slide off her like water from glass. Finally, Odalynne, the blood witch, presses her palm against Debbie’s cooling forehead. Dark magic flows between them, and color slowly returns to the musician’s cheeks as the worst of her injuries knit closed. “You have a most powerful enemy,” Odalynne warns in a voice like autumn wind through dead leaves. “The devil will return when it realizes you are not dead. Be very careful, Debbie.”
As the others make their weary way back toward the hex, Alister slips away into the pre-dawn darkness. They navigate the dormitory halls until they reach Quintillius’s door, and their knuckles rap against the worn wood. The door swings open to reveal the disheveled student in a rumpled nightshirt, hair askew and eyes heavy with interrupted sleep. His voice carries the rough edge of exhaustion as he demands that Alister leave immediately, suggesting they speak tomorrow when both are better rested about what Alister might do to earn even a shred of his trust.
Morning light filters through dormitory windows as the hexmates stir from sleep that has restored both their strength and, mercifully, their sight. Most slide back into the familiar rhythms of academic life, but Alister finds themselves facing a summons that chills their blood. Dean Nassari’s office feels smaller and more oppressive than usual as the administrator delivers news that lands like a physical blow: Quintillius has filed for a restraining order against the fey student. Alister’s world tilts as they consult with Titania, learning that they must now find another untrusting soul to win over—any further contact with Quintillius will result in their immediate expulsion from Strixhaven.
The day passes in focused study for Hester, KFC, Beckaylee, and Reyna. Hours bent over textbooks and magical treatises yield remarkable results—their failing grades transform into satisfactory marks, and in KFC’s case, something even more extraordinary occurs. She stares at her exceptional scores in disbelief, and a single tear traces down her cheek as she touches the Headband of Intellect that now adorns her brow. The unfamiliar sensation of academic success leaves her uncertain how to process this dramatic change in her fortunes.
Meanwhile, Debbie makes her way to the Witherbloom Tower. Her purse will be lighter by twenty gold coins as she purchases the precious component she needs: powdered silver that gleams like captured moonlight. She seeks out Dean Lisette, requesting the ritual that will transform base materials into a gallon of holy water potent enough to provide protection against the infernal enemy that now knows her name and thirsts for her destruction..
