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Fiends were unleashed everywhere, immediately wreaking havoc and causing fear. Each heeded the command of Theodore, whose hatred for the hubris of the guild industry outshined everything in his mind, in my mind. Fuck. The gnarled tree of his inner core cast a shadow over the auxiliary gym that I couldn’t escape.

The only relief that came from Theodore’s vile mind was how it almost distracted from the searing head-splitting pain of hearing thousands of screaming thoughts whirling about. The audience who stampeded out of their arena seating, shoving and harming anyone too weak to stand in the pack of frantic survival. The staff who cycled through every extra training they’d been forced to attend after my incident last year, the one that nearly got my homeroom coven killed.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

My homeroom coven. Their thoughts became entangled among the hundreds of students who scrambled with ideas of how to react.

Were they ready for these fiends?

Could they face off against warlocks?

Were those prisoners here to kill them?

Why hadn’t any real enchanters shown up at the Spring Showcase?

I pressed my hands against my temples so hard I thought my head might crack from the pressure of my grip. There’d be a brief relief if I crushed my skull. Sure, I’d be dead, but the raging minds that stomped my telepathy into pieces wouldn’t ache anymore.

Fiends continued terrorizing the inmates who’d been dragged to the arena floor, dragged into this entire escape attempt from the MDC, dragged to their deaths for no reason other than they were foolish enough to trust Vincent. The warlock who secretly branded them with alchemic ingredients meant to provide the perfect fuel for the demons Theodore sought to unleash upon the world.

Demons.

Teeth ripped into flesh. Tongues lapped at sweaty skin. Magic leached off the inmates. Tattoos glowed to hold them in place. Blood splattered. Limbs broke. Bones crunched. Body parts flew about in the frenzy of feasting fiends that gobbled down their quarry.

The mess and mayhem continued as fiends maimed the inmates, their bodies mashed together in this perverse transformation of sticky tar, curled yellow claws slashed at weaker demonic energy, and jagged golden teeth glistened under the brewing storm clouds above. A scalding heat rose from the fiendish blobs that’d bundled together in a mess of magic and death and hunger. One by one, fiends swelled above the others, a pack leader born to destroy. They boiled and burned with hellish heat that reeked of rotten mold before transcending into truly horrid abominations.

In the center of the arena stood a gorgon with green and golden scales, nothing like the one that’d murdered Finn, but I still shivered at the sight of such a monstrosity. I didn’t have time to hesitate, though, to freeze with fear of festering wounds from the past. No, because Theodore had brought a pack of new horrors.

Behind the gorgon, eight scaled heads slithered as faceless mouths snapped their sharp teeth. A hydra wriggled on the stone flooring, finding its footing with tiny legs that barely held its huge body and massively long necks upright.

Hovering beside the furthest hydra head was a fat, bulbous clump of clay and stone held high by the flap of six wings. A gargoyle.

More and more demons revealed themselves as the fiends that Theodore had commanded by the hundreds transcended into twelve frightening foes.

Wisps and fiends continued clawing at the edges of the auxiliary gym, trying with all their might and demonic energy to break into the building as so ordered by Theodore’s raging cackle that released his branch magic of Demonic Resonance.

It summoned every monstrous being within the city toward Gemini Academy.

How?

I stared at the bone staff he kept held low, dropping the skull head to the floor at his feet, but he wielded it much like The True Witch intended to wield it herself until her postering proved to be her undoing. Now, Theodore used the power radiating from those gems to extend his range of casting.

His twisted fantasies held orders of mayhem and carnage and the craving for blood and death. He commanded horror in hopes it’d offer him joy. His hatred slinked across the arena, fueling the demons with desire and obedience. An aura so black and foul it would be easily mistaken for the inner core of a demon, a devil, a hellish beast without an ounce of humanity. For there was no humanity in Theodore Whitlock, merely a thirst for pain and brutality.

Chaos ensued. The demons that Theodore had conjured leapt from the arena, powers at the ready, and targeted the strongest guild witches in the audience. The clash created destruction almost immediately. Bystanders and noncombatants were hurled by the few enchanters in attendance. Acolytes scrambled to offer support where they could, but so few had faced off against demons. The ones I’d known to have fought demons—like Enchanter Evergreen’s three acolytes—had been tapped to serve as reinforcements for the MDC mission.

A mission I still needed answers about… About what happened to Milo… Where’s Milo? My Milo. My…

I ground my teeth, glaring at the demons who tore through the auxiliary gym. Burying my fears, my concerns, and my desires, I prioritized the horrors ahead, knowing so many here needed my attention, not some fool lost in a daze of apprehension.

The few guild members here dove into combat, intercepting hungry demons and preventing casualties. They didn’t work independently for long. Staff didn’t wait for an organized plan, a meeting, a directive from above. No. Teachers leapt into the fray, scooping students into their arms, shielding audience members, barreling into demons head-on without hesitation, and so much more.

I wanted to help, to prove I could be useful.

There was just too much fear and destruction everywhere.

It dropped me to my knees, unable to compose myself.

Fiends plummeted from above, shattering the glass ceiling and falling into a pit of frightened students.

Chanelle unraveled a whip made from multiple magics that she wrapped together when hurling her potent arcane branch at foes. Fire slapped the biggest fiends, lapping them in flames that Chanelle fanned with the next crack of her whip that held wind. Together, the elements created this huge blaze of burning banishment. Then, without delay, as the staggering forces of fiends continued falling into the auxiliary gym, Chanelle whipped them with ice, then floral, then electricity, steel, light, earth, water, shadows, and every fucking primal element or cosmic radiance she could muster.

It was godly. It left me awed, the way Chanelle destroyed threats from above while eyeing her students, every student, below.

The devastation didn’t faze her, didn’t stall her, didn’t slow her for a second as she banished descending fiends while she also swept away glass like a fucking industry pro.

I wanted to latch onto her mind, ask why she ever walked away from the guilds she surely must’ve been the best at, but I hesitated, continued hesitating as madness erupted all around me.

Chanelle wasn’t the only teacher to move with precision, expertise, composure.

Peterson leapt in front of his homeroom coven and worked with several staff members, shielding students with rock walls that moved and shifted and redirected incoming threats toward a witch at the ready with a banishment.

Thompson, whose voice I’d managed to avoid for almost a year now, belted across the auxiliary gym in an effort to cloak everyone the sound touched. Her homeroom coven vanished beneath the protective cosmic layers of her branch magic known as Fairy’s Jacket that hid anything her vocal vibrations struck. Anything while channeling magic, of course, since she was an insatiable gossip, and the entire world would become invisible if the casting merely required her to speak.

It wasn’t only teachers but every staff member, from the custodians to the secretaries, who flew across campus to break through the pit of fiends and offer an escape path to the administrators who shielded against fiends and guided everyone to safety. Everyone they could in this carnage.

Headmaster Dower unleashed lava, burning a tunnel for students to dive into, creating a wall of heat hotter than any Hell the demons had come from, and raining magma that lured hungry demonic energy to taste the droplets of primal magic in the air.

Everyone worked perfectly, precisely, passionately, and yet I remained frozen and overwhelmed as my telepathy latched onto the minds of those I cared most about.

Gael’s mind called to me above everyone else, concerned and determined to protect those endangered. Not his classmates, not anyone he knew. This desire to help was directed toward people who were trapped in the stands and unable to banish the fiends that surrounded them.

He hurled spikes coated in banishment from his arms, sending sharp projectiles into the demonic threats before banishing enough to clear a path.

“Follow me,” a copy of Jamius hovered by the open direction and guided the frightened guests to an exit.

It was a copy as Jamius himself stood beside Carter and Jennifer, allowing them to shield him from threats as he cast countless copies to defend, direct, attack, and everything else he could fathom in the instance of this surprise assault on Gemini Academy.

This attack didn’t rattle Jamius. It didn’t surprise Gael. Sure, neither expected it, but they were ready nonetheless.

Jennifer ate the encroaching dread that flooded from classmates as they fled the horrors. She remained steady, shoulders squared, and sensory at the ready.

Carter weaved his branch into key members of the audience, fueling those most in need while keeping Gael alert and strong enough to launch more spikes without overexerting his physical limitations.

In mere seconds, the four of them banded together and formulated a plan designed to protect everyone around them. They didn’t hesitate because the horrors of their first semester surfaced in their minds. Not in a panicking, traumatic way, but more as a strong reminder of what they’d survived, how they’d survived, and why they picked this career path.

It was mesmerizing. They worked together so succinctly, protecting and fighting and proving they each had what it took to survive in the harsh guild industry. Their casting was on par with the handful of industry witches here who faced off against demons in the deepest trenches of the auxiliary gym.

A flaming ball zipped past my head, nearly setting my hair on fire, and I turned to see Yaritza making her “oopsie” face. Grimacing momentarily before returning to exactly whatever she wanted, which in this case was completely forgivable since she launched countless comets of cosmic magic and infused them with her sensory root.

It was a brilliant use of her magic to pinpoint and strike down demonic threats. She’d turned it into a weird tennis match with Melanie, who controlled the fire around Yaritza’s star shower. As they whipped flaming rocks back and forth to tear through fiends or set wisps ablaze, Layla leapt in between the fiery destruction, sniffing out people who were too slow to evade, dodging demonic dangers, and slashing the air while channeling her banishment. The three made for a powerful close- and long-range combination of onslaught attacks.

Katherine soared around the facility, ripping out every page of her grimoire. The spine hung loose, its heavy front and back cover fluttered in a wobbly descent as it crashed onto the ground. Katherine held the spells, hundreds of them, each floating around her like she was swimming in a book.

Whether she used telekinesis to throw the perfect page to someone in need or recited a spell for her own use, Katherine managed to keep a careful eye on all her friends. Not only those in our homeroom but everyone at Gemini Academy that she’d grown to love so deeply. She wouldn’t allow anyone to suffer in this horrible attack, not if she could do something about it.

A spell fluttered toward me, and I read it, conjuring a barrier that stopped a fiend in its tracks. Once the barrier faded, I prepared to banish it, but a sharply pointed shadow stabbed the creature first, shattering it into a cluster of wisps I quickly finished.

Tara. She flew above everyone here, studying the environment and doing her part to help.

“ I’m going to make sure Theo doesn’t hurt anyone. I refuse to let him take what I’ve built. ”

I’d never felt such conviction and bravery in Tara’s thoughts, such eagerness to cast. But she wielded her magics with incredible talent, casting all five of her branches in tandem with her four root magics. She used them in seamless and intricate ways. Her shadows sprang out like spiked whips meant to banish demonic energy while her icicles stabbed wisps that clustered in large groups. Her Banshee’s Wail destroyed the fear and sadness that ate away at stunned bystanders, offering them a chance to flee unharmed. Without hesitation, Tara locked fiends in place with golden seals and transformed would-be victims into intangible forms where they could now swim through the crowd and escape.

“BAAAAWWWWWWK!”

Gael lunged; King Clucks kicked his feet behind as he telekinetically hurled his loudmouthed human at me.

The fuck?

Without any time to brace for impact, I flinched but found myself wrapped in a telekinetic grip and swiveled to a new spot.

“ Got your back, Mr. Frosty. ” Gael stuck out his tongue and winked. “ Gotta protect my boy Evergreen’s partner. So, if you wanna mention that to him, you know, on why I’d be a boss intern. Just saying. ”

“Cl-cluck.”

“ Yeah, but like in a casual, cool way. Keep it chill, Mr. Frosty. ”

Was he seriously using a life-or-death situation to barter internships?

Shaking away the surprise and confusion, I saw fiends tackle each other, snapping their teeth furiously at their missed quarry. Me. They’d landed where I stood mere seconds ago. Where I stood before Gael and King Clucks quickly acted.

They weren’t done either. King Clucks led the charge, crowing loudly and carrying waves of banishment in his loud voice.

Meanwhile, Gael moved in this acrobatic dancelike fighting style, telekinetically waving around three stray feathers he’d plucked from his familiar’s tail. Those fowl feathers were soaked in magic, Gael’s magic, the constant channeling the pair used to maintain their bond. It allowed him to hack through fiendish tar like butter, each feather sharper than a knife and easily swayed with precision thanks to Gael’s highly proficient telekinesis.

He’d taught himself this style, this technique, that he was eager to demonstrate during the showcase, revealing his graceful and effective combat skills. Something I was certain the guild witches would’ve eaten up since the best enchanters solved cases while offering onlookers a true spectacle.

Everyone in my homeroom coven held a certainty few in their class had. Yes, Chanelle’s homeroom worked wonderfully together. Yes, students from every class did their best. But my twelve students had tasted an attack on these walls once before. They’d survived an assault from Theodore Whitlock and his warlock crew. They’d battled devils—a devil that stalked me. My students had grown leaps and bounds ahead of their peers. Despite the erratic minds every which way, I latched to the twelve most amazing minds I’d ever had the pleasure of teaching.

A gargoyle cornered Caleb. My breathing hitched, seeing him fight a demon singlehandedly, but his steady calculations calmed my nerves. There was no faltering in Caleb’s tactical dodges. His maze of a mind weaved together everything he knew about gargoyles, everything he knew about his surroundings, and everything he knew about his capabilities.

He studied the stone making of the monstrosity that towered above him. Channeling banishment, Caleb determined the best locations to shatter the entity in front of him. If he hit the gargoyle just right, it’d topple over and shatter from fewer strikes, and he would be able to banish the wispy remnants with ease before moving on to help others. Caleb always thought of how he could help others before himself.

He wasn’t the only one who fought furiously to help others, but the selfishness in this selflessness wasn’t missed by me as the angry mind zipped across the auxiliary gym to join Caleb in combat. Kenzo leapt forward, punching the gargoyle across the jaw and shattering half the stonework of its head with a combination of banishment and hex magic working to eliminate demonic energy.

“I have this under control,” Caleb shouted.

“Shut up,” Kenzo snapped. “I’m here to help you, branchless moron.”

“I didn’t ask for your help, you…you…” Caleb ground his teeth with a frazzled annoyance as he tried to think of the meanest thing he could possibly say. “You jerk-faced fuck head.”

Kenzo blinked. His anger completely washed away when he looked at Caleb. Every thought around simmered as Kenzo and I both shared in a silent laugh at Caleb’s idea of bullying others. Picking. Hurting feelings with mean words.

“Just let me help you.” Kenzo spun around, kicking the gargoyle that began to compose itself.

“No. I don’t need your help.” Caleb punched the gargoyle, breaking a piece of its wing when it attempted to counter the witches in front of it. “I can do this myself.”

“I know that.” Kenzo whirled around the gargoyle, lacing it with hex magic but waiting for Caleb to add the banishment for a combination strike. A combination hit that Kenzo had already proven he could cast independently. “I know you can do anything on your own, you annoying fucker. But I want… I want… I want to help. Let me help goddamn it!”

Caleb froze. Kenzo froze. I froze. The entire world seemed to still as these two stared at each other. I watched their teen forms wash away, replaced by the image Caleb and Kenzo both carried in the forefront of their minds. Caleb saw a sweet Kenny that had a goofy smile all the time. Kenzo saw a scrawny little Caleb with huge green eyes as he carried impossibly big stacks of books everywhere he went. They envisioned who those boys might’ve grown up to be if their friendship hadn’t broken. Kenzo swallowed the hundred kind things he wanted to say. Caleb buried the thousands of questions he had.

“I guess we, um, I guess we, um, well, we could banish this gargoyle together and help with the evacuations.” Caleb scrunched his face, bracing for Kenzo to shout, to tell him how stupid his plan was. It needed more steps, more details, but Caleb also worried that if he spouted off an intricate plan, Kenzo would also scold him.

“Great idea.” Kenzo grinned, menacing and carrying a desire to break everything in his path. “I go high, you go low.”

“Wait.” Caleb paused. “Do I have to be on the bottom?”

“Always.” Kenzo glared, taking his stance.

“Okay.” Caleb readied himself. “That’s fine, I guess.”

The two lunged at the gargoyle, Kenzo swiping with furious punches that broke stone into wispy remnants while Caleb flew low with his legs ahead of him, pedaling wild kicks at the demonic energy as he banished it.

Each boy smiled at the other, Kenzo looking down and Caleb looking up, but both boys finally saw the other on equal footing. Kenzo wanted to see the world Caleb planned on creating, a world where branchless kids didn’t have to dream so big because they were accepted, they had the right to cast freely, they were heroes working in this massive industry. And Caleb… He saw the boy who only wanted the best for everyone, the boy who smiled at strangers before offering assistance, the boy who loved so much that hate seemed like the only way to escape his pain.

Their teamwork spread across the auxiliary gym, carrying potent emotions that didn’t hold any confusion while they fought side by side.

It distracted me. Everything here distracted me because I was too incompetent. But the surging thoughts of my students reeled back my attention. Their collaborative coordination had done wonders to clear away demonic threats, but there were still so many threats flooding around.

“ I should rework the broken enchantments. ”

“ Everyone’s so afraid, I need to steer that fear into the demons somehow. ”

“ Jennifer’s in pain. If I redirect my vitality… ”

“ Kenzo y Caleb son increíbles. Me encanta verlos reparar su amistad. ”

“ Vik’s technique has gotten flawless. ” “ Those damn fiends keep eating my fire. ”

“ I need more copies to help with evacuations. ”

“ Maybe if I created bigger stars… ”

“ I know the plan, but Tara needs us, King Clucks. ”

A class of first-year students from the audience found themselves locked in the gaze of a gorgon while pinned between several heads of the hydra, which no one seemed capable of banishing. I was the only nearby teacher. All my students were engaged in heavy combat, too far to offer assistance except for Tara. Where’d she gone? My pulse jumped. She’d fought to ensure everyone around her had the best support possible, and now she stood alone, too far for me to reach, surrounded by three terrible threats.

“I’m thrilled and chilled, lil Whitlock.” Darla giggled as she slinked around Tara, threatening counter at the ready. “I can’t wait to slice you up again. Bet your blood is as sweet as Teddy’s.”

“We should make this quick.” Ernesto popped out of a portal before vanishing and reappearing elsewhere. “She’s got a lot of branches. That’s dangerous.”

“I have infinite branches.” Vincent tapped his tattooed sigils on his bare chest with one hand while drawing some horrid spell with his other.

The three warlocks from Theodore’s crew circled his sister with animosity in their surface thoughts and not an ounce of remorse or desire to hold back their insatiable ire. They’d each prepared to harm Tara, break Tara, teach her a lesson for daring…

For daring what? For living her life? For not breaking to pieces after the destruction her brother caused?

I furrowed my brow. I wanted to slap the fuck out of each of those warlocks. I had to help Tara. But I couldn’t be in two places at once. So many students were trapped by the gorgon’s petrification, which slowed victims who were caught in its line of sight; it locked them in place like stone. Then there was Tara, who stood all alone like she’d done too much in her life, fighting against the sorrow inside of her.

“ Theo. I won’t let you harm the people I love. ”

Enchanter Diaz darted between me and the first-year students, hacking off the gorgon’s head with his enchanted sword.

My heart jumped at his sudden arrival. Where’d he come from? The gorgon who planned on making a feast of teens now fumbled around with outstretched arms to retrieve his lost head, but Diaz hit the demon with so much banishment the monstrosity burst into the goopy tar of desiccating fiends that were mashed into muck by Priscilla. She roared, sending a wave of banishment herself that eliminated the demonic energy entirely.

I didn’t have a chance to read his thoughts, not with the glyphs of his weapon active. It didn’t take long for Enchanter Diaz to race across the auxiliary gym, shredding demons and clearing a path for Priscilla to usher out those in the line of danger.

I needed to move. To help my students, Tara especially. Was her brother really going to let those warlocks hurt her? He remained perched on the stage, watching the horrors unfold with glee blossoming from his gnarled tree of thoughts.

Purple smoke fluttered around Theodore Whitlock, coiling onto the bone staff he held and snatching it away into nothingness.

“Who the…” He ground his teeth. “ I should’ve slit her throat when I had the chance. ”

Milo appeared behind Theodore from thin air.

“How’d you get here so fa—” A quick fist to his face shut Theodore up.

Milo didn’t mince words or let up for a second, belting the warlock with heavy-handed telekinetic punches meant to break and bruise and beat Theodore into submission. Theodore couldn’t keep up with the bombardment of well-trained hits, tactical strikes, and the plain ole angry fucking attack. His jaw cracked, his ribs crunched, his knees creaked, and still Milo didn’t relent. Every strike was meant to make up for the lost seconds of this diverted path, every painful hit was meant to apologize to the lives lost because of Theodore, every knuckle-bruising punch was a cry for the mistakes Enchanter Evergreen promised to never make again.

There would be no sorrow. There would be no suffering. There would be no chasms of regret like what he held for Finn.

The certainty and joy Milo always held high in his mind had a chink, a blemish that revealed the sadness he often kept at bay.

I wanted to fly across the arena and hug him, hold him, whisper that everything would be okay. But Tara needed me. Darla continued circling her, searching for any vulnerability. Vincent hurled his own magics from his branded tattoos. Ernesto sprang out of portals, nearly catching Tara with each new attempt.

“Gotcha!” Darla sliced the air, sending a counter meant to strike down Tara.

Gladiatrix intercepted the invisible strike, completely unaware of what the counter would do to her; her body raged as the hex magic burned throughout every cell of her being. I’d felt the effects of that counter or a pale imitation of it from a blade that Theodore used, a blade carved with a brand from Vincent to mimic Darla’s branch.

“How are you standing?” Darla’s face fell flat, stunned by how quickly Gladiatrix shrugged off the counter.

Her branch was so overwhelmingly strong that the warlock’s hex fizzled out, merely dampening the physicality coursing through Gladiatrix.

In a flash, Gladiatrix snatched Darla by the throat.

“Release her now!” Vincent demanded, every sigil on his body lit with a green hue.

Gladiatrix headbutted Darla so hard it rendered her unconscious. In a blink, Gladiatrix had abandoned Darla and barreled ahead, Vincent her next target. A crystalized blue door sprang open, sealing right as the enchanter slipped through, even cutting off part of her cape when the portal vanished.

At least she’d removed Darla, who was the biggest threat of the three.

“What the fuck?” Ernesto tugged his hair, staring at the pulsating blue cracks beside Vincent.

“What’s happening?” Vincent’s eyes widened when the portal opened back up.

“Impossible,” Ernesto creaked. “I sealed it. How’d she do that?”

“You think someone of my caliber can’t punch a hole through the cosmic plane? Oh, honey.” Gladiatrix made quick work of Vincent and Ernesto before either had an inkling of how to contend with the strongest woman in the world.

Once again, I found myself awed by Gladiatrix’s capabilities, even attempting to latch onto her steady and confident mind during this tumultuous attack on Gemini Academy. Her surface thoughts beamed brightly, revealing the missing minutes since I’d last seen her and the other members of the Global Guild.

The Chicago enchanters worked to contain the situation at the MDC. They restrained inmates and offered aid to the injured. Far more injured than expected.

A man leapt between Gladiatrix and Grim. He wore a bloody, ripped shirt. There was something familiar in his set-in scowl. Grim aimed his sickle for the exposed hole of the man’s shirt, shattering the blade when it met the finely tuned telekinesis buzzing over the skin.

“Even if you could land a strike with your feeble magics,” the man spoke in this gruff annoyance while tearing off his tattered shirt. “You can’t harm me in this state.”

His literal ten-pack abdomen flexed, every muscle of his body tightened, and with a quick jab, he knocked Grim’s head off his shoulders.

“It’ll take more than that.” Gladiatrix sighed at the laughing skull. “Unfortunately.”

“I know how to handle so-called immortals,” the man spat before breaking the bones of Grim’s body in such quick succession that even Gladiatrix strained to follow the blurred movements.

“About time you came to play, old man.”

Old man? Wait. This was Enchanter Wadsworth. This guy who appeared in his absolute fucking prime with muscles I didn’t even realize were physically possible to achieve was Wadsworth. Wow. The impatient, elderly enchanter who lay dying underground with a huge hole in his chest had used his rejuvenation, his healing, to literally turn back the clock on his cells, restoring his vitality on a level I couldn’t fathom. No wonder he still ranked among the top ten Global Guild witches while in his seventies.

“Grab the psychic and bear boy witches,” Wadsworth said. “I’ll deal with this bone brat and the other pillar. I need you to find The True Witch.”

Gladiatrix listened to the battles outside, the fight between Enchanter Diaz and The Sisters Three had ended when the psychic pillar fled after reinforcements showed. She heard Milo’s battle against Lazarus. She extended her senses beyond the MDC, stretching them over every chaotic noise throughout the city, and honed in on the ensuing assault on the academy.

“I have an idea of where the witch is,” Gladiatrix said before parting ways with Enchanter Wadsworth.

She zipped through the MDC, snatching Enchanter Evergreen in her grasp. Turning on her heels, she raced in the opposite direction and found Enchanter Diaz with his familiar Priscilla, grabbing them with a telekinetic hold. Bracing them with her magic, Gladiatrix bolted across the city, landing at Gemini Academy in a flash.

Having arrived at the campus, it didn’t take long for the three Global Guild witches to assess the situation and neutralize dangers where Diaz hacked apart demons and Milo beat down Theodore.

I blinked away the memory and watched Gladiatrix bolt from Tara’s side, having defeated the three warlocks that surrounded my student. She moved from place to place, leveling the playing field and eliminating threats in seconds.

Enchanter Diaz soared between students, hacking down fiends with his sword that banished them on contact, using his glowing glyphs in a deliberate pattern to lure demons away.

While her human worked, Priscilla snatched up everyone in her path, holding damn near a hundred people in her telekinetic grip as she trotted across the auxiliary gym to carry them to a safe location.

Everything was working out. Not like planned, but I slowly composed myself. The erratic emotions were becoming more manageable, especially with Milo nearby serving as a lifejacket amidst this carnage.

Milo had grabbed ahold of Theodore’s arm, bending it behind his back to the breaking point. He twisted until Theodore dropped to his knees, gritting his teeth and stifling a wince.

“Of all the places, of all the choices you could’ve made.” Milo tightened his grip, lacing telekinesis down Theodore’s arm. “You picked this?”

“Go big or go home, they say.” Theodore chuckled, pretending the pain didn’t burn across his skin. “I don’t have a home, so pretty easy choice.”

“Now, you’ll have nothing. No choices.” Milo contemplated wrapping his telekinesis around Theodore’s throat, choking the life out of him, or snapping his neck. “ No futures. ”

If he killed the warlock, he’d ensure nothing like this ever came to pass again, ever held a possibility in the future Milo sought to paint. Another part of him remembered the plan—despite all the horrible hiccups that’d occurred—where Theodore Whitlock would be taken into custody by the Global Guild, dropped into a hole so deep and dark the world would never sense his presence again. Milo knew this because of the warlock’s connection to the Celestial Coven and Enchanter Wadsworth’s tenacious need to eradicate anyone affiliated with The True Witch.

I wanted to tell Milo to stop. I wanted to keep that spark of joy lit in his heart forever. I wanted to take the burden and kill Theodore myself. But I froze. I hesitated. The Sisters Three materialized out of nowhere behind Milo, and I didn’t know what to do.

“The Inevitable Future, I presume.” The Sisters Three slinked through purple smoke. “Pale, cheap imitation, sisters,” the raspy voice declared. “Difficult all the same,” the light-lilt voice added. “We see you weaving your silly little possibilities, desperately clawing at the happiest ever after,” the stern voice held utter contempt for the words. “But we have come to only grant zero happily ever afters.”

They grabbed Milo by the temples, bombarding his mind with every past regret as they ripped up the floorboards of his inner core. Next, they set their sights on the many vaults where Milo stored visions and sorted futures. I stumbled forward, struggling against the trepidation that struck the tether where my thoughts and Milo’s remained linked. The continuous fear and raging emotions of so many people in the auxiliary gym didn’t help.

The Sisters Three attacked the hundreds, the thousands, of staticky screens set up in the Fateful Viewing of Infinite Possibilities, where Milo observed visions. God, how he loved that silly little name, the one that reverberated through his broken thoughts as The Sisters Three smashed each screen, scattering glass and leaving shards at Milo’s feet.

As he held back the anguish of so many visions rattling through his mind at once, The Sisters Three surged further into Milo’s mind. They barged into the white circular room where Milo kept his Dispatch Board of Destiny, a place to track the many colorful potential threads of tens of thousands of people. Each string represented someone Milo hoped to offer the best, careful not to ruin their choices or push them away from others they might happily end up entwined with. The strings sparked, casting tiny flames in every direction of the board as each thread Milo studied over the years burned to cinders.

The white room where he stored them crumbled and cracked apart, and the office where Milo organized every outdated vision rumbled ferociously. The filing cabinets sprang open all at once, spitting the neatly sorted papers into the air. Each piece carried the weight of a vision that collided with Milo’s psyche.

“We’re nowhere near finished with you,” the light lilted voice whispered. “Let us show you the future we’ve declared, the future fate has decided,” the raspy voice dripped venom. “Quake at the power of your betters,” the stern voice said right as raging water poured into Milo’s mind.

Milo sank into the depths of the ocean conjured by The True Witch, who materialized beside The Sisters Three from purple smoke, holding her bone staff and no longer fazed by the effects of Darla’s counter.

“We told Icarus he dared too much.” The Sisters Three cackled in unison, unveiling countless lives they’d professed to have controlled, altered, and manipulated over the course of several thousand years. I couldn’t track it; the names and faces whirled by too quickly, mixed together with the flashes of tens of thousands of visions simultaneously replaying in Milo’s mind. “Like him, your plummet into death will be ignoble. Because you, Enchanter Milo Evergreen, are worthless to our story. A meager obstacle, hardly even an afterthought.”

No.

No.

No.

I had to stop this. They couldn’t harm Milo. I wouldn’t allow it. I’d rip them to pieces.

“How?” the light lilted voice asked. “It is already foretold,” the raspy voice whispered behind me. “You are nothing, Dorian Frost, not even an obstacle in our path.”

I backstepped away from the feminine silhouette of one psychic sister who walked inside my head only to bump into another who stood behind me. Her hands wrapped over my temples.

Milo’s agony faded. I couldn’t remain tethered to him while he suffered so much. While I suffered.

Everyone’s thoughts vanished.

The world went black.