The school courtyard, usually a place of laughter and chatter, is eerily silent now. You can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you—students pressed against the windows, teachers frozen in place, their faces a mix of fear and disbelief. But you don’t care about them. Not anymore. Your gaze is locked on Nico, standing a few feet away,qq staff gripped tightly in her hands. Her dark hair whips around her face in the wind, and her eyes—those piercing, knowing eyes—are fixed on you.

“You don’t have to do this,” Nico says, her voice steady but laced with something softer, something that makes your chest ache.

The first strike comes without warning. Nico swings her staff, a burst of crimson energy arcing toward you. You react instinctively, throwing up a shield of crackling energy that absorbs the blow. The force of it sends a shockwave rippling through the courtyard, scattering leaves and debris in its wake. You can feel the heat of it on your skin, the raw power of her magic pressing against yours. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

Nico’s attack comes in a flurry of motion, her staff a blur of crimson light. You block each strike, the impact reverberating through your arms, but you can feel yourself faltering. She’s relentless, her movements precise and calculated, and you know she’s holding back. She doesn’t want to hurt you. Not really. But you? You’re not holding back.

With a roar, you unleash a blast of energy, the force of it sending Nico skidding backward. She catches herself, her staff slamming into the ground to steady her, but you don’t give her a chance to recover. You’re on her in an instant hands crackling with power as you grab her by the shoulders. For a moment, you’re face to face, close enough for her to see the tears glistening in your eyes. Close enough to remember all the times you laughed together, all the times you promised you’d always have each other’s backs.

“Please,” she almost whispers. “Don’t do something you will regret about.”