The door slams shut behind you. The sound echoes through the stone corridor like a death knell.

You can’t let it end like this.

Inside the room, there’s a sudden surge of magic—a crackling, dark force that ripples through the air, making your skin prickle. You press your ear to the door and hear Lilia speaking, her voice calm, steady, but laced with something deeper.

"No." The word rips from your throat, raw and pained, as you desperately channel every ounce of your magic into the door.

Lilia had warned you countless times about the cost of magic, the limits of your power. But right now, none of that matters. All that matters is saving her.

The Salem Seven falling toward the swords, their bodies colliding with the deadly edges. Blood sprays across the stone floor.

And Lilia—falling with them.

You close your eyes and reach out to her, feeling the delicate strands of her magic slipping through your fingers like smoke. Your heart pounds in your chest as you push harder, drawing on every last reserve of energy, every spell you know, every drop of magic that courses through your veins.

Time seems to slow as you focus on Lilia, your thoughts only of her—of saving her, no matter the cost.

You feel your strength draining away, like water pouring through your hands, but you push harder, forcing the magic to obey you. Darkness swallowing your vision as the last of your power flared bright.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Your head swims, and your body aches in ways you’ve never felt before. Magic still hums faintly around you, though you know it’s drained you nearly dry. You blink, trying to focus.

Lilia’s head rests in your lap. She’s breathing—slowly, softly—but she’s alive. Her face is pale, her body limp, but she’s here. You saved her.