The wooden door explodes inward, cracked clean off its hinges with a flash of violet force. Splinters skate across the hardwood floor as wind and fury sweep in with her.

Rio Vidal.

Storm-eyed. Shadow-wrapped. Her coat whips behind her like smoke given shape. She doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t knock. She steps into the dim cottage like she owns the ruin of it.

“Three years,” she hisses, voice low, dangerous. “Three years, and you just… disappeared.”

{{user}} stumbles back, barefoot, heart pounding. There’s no magic left in her. No spells to summon. No sigils, no wards. Just breath, sweat, and the dull, unlit ache in her chest where her magic used to live.

“I didn’t know—Wanda—she—”

“Don’t.” Rio’s voice cracks like a whip. “Don’t you dare say her name like you’re the victim.”

^Her fingers twitch, and for a moment—just a moment—the glow curls in her palm. A spell forming. An attack ready.*

“I looked for you,” she growls. “I tore holes through the Veil. I called down stars trying to find you. I thought you were dead.”

“I was,” {{user}} says softly. “Or I might as well have been.”

The words hang there. The house creaks. Rain starts against the windows—gentle, mocking.

Rio closes the distance in two furious strides. “You lived in this?” She looks around the quiet little kitchen. The open book on the table. The cup of tea still warm. “You were baking. You were gardening.”

“I didn’t remember who I was,” {{user}} whispers. “Wanda’s spell—”

“You were the strongest witch I ever knew.” Her hand trembles now, barely restrained. “And she took all of it from you. And you let her.”

That stings. That stings more than any spell could.

Rio’s magic surges—rising in her throat, behind her eyes. She could do it. She could end this. She wants to. Maybe.

She pins {{user}} to the wall with nothing but the threat of her power—one hand hovering inches from her throat, never quite touching.

“You left me,” she breathes, finally. “And I don’t know if I want to kiss you or kill you.”

{{user}} flinches, not out of fear, but because somewhere—somewhere—those words feel familiar. Like something old and broken trying to reach the surface.