“What kind of person is Headmaster Farnham?” Risa asks Cassius, her voice low as she picks at the frayed edge of her sleeve.

  Cassius doesn’t hesitate. “He’s always ordering the staff to punish the children however he pleases. All the children are terrified of him. He doesn’t even like being around them.”

  “A headmaster who doesn’t like children?” Finn raises an eyebrow.

  “Not just children. The staff fear him too,” Cassius mutters, frowning as if recalling something unpleasant.

  They’ve been holed up in Evelyn’s old home ever since Finn left that note in Cedric’s hidden desk compartment. The magic seal remains intact, glowing faintly along the doorframe, and the old poster on the gate still flaps listlessly whenever a breeze sneaks through. Aurelien might have taken over the property from Maunther, but nothing’s been touched.

  Cassius had insisted on staying with them. Not just out of boredom, though he made a point of grumbling about that, but because he knows this house inside and out. From hidden chambers to arcane mechanisms, it was once his grandmother’s sanctum.

  The place remains untouched, likely because Maunther and Yorik are too afraid to set foot inside. They don’t dare meddle with Evelyn’s enchantments, worried they might trigger some long-forgotten curse or intricate defence spell. So they asked the officials to seal the property and leave it as it was.

  The ruse works well enough. To the outside world, it’s just another abandoned property, waiting for a new occupant. In reality, they’re lying low by keeping lights dim, voices hushed, and their magic aura suppressed. The enchanted seal does most of the masking, but Nyx’s innate power cloaks their presence seamlessly. Few could detect them even if they stood right outside the door.

  “What if the headmaster comes with backup?” Risa asks, glancing at Finn.

  “Well, we’ve got Nyx here, don’t we?” Finn tousles Nyx’s hair.

  Nyx nods obediently.

  “Kidding,” Finn adds with a smirk. “It’s unlikely Cedric will bring any of the orphanage staff. He can’t turn to the knights either. So, who do you think he’ll ask?”

  “The traffickers,” Risa answers grimly.

  “Exactly. That’s why I gave him three days. Enough time to panic, make a few desperate calls. Thoughtful of me, don’t you think?” Finn chuckles, but there’s steel beneath the humour. “But we’re not facing just Cedric. If they come, it’ll be his best. So we need to be ready and take them all in one blow.”

  “What if…” Cassius speaks up, leaning forward, “he really manages to scrape together seventy thousand coins and bring it alone?”

  “Then,” Finn grins, “we have both the money and the leads to the traffickers.”

  Risa stifles a laugh. “Come to think of it…why did he write a list at all? Wouldn’t it be safer to never have it?”

  Finn leans back, considering. “For a trafficker, sure. But Cedric? That list is his insurance. In case things go south, he’d use it to save his own skin.”

  “We’re going to see they never harm another child again,” Cassius finishes firmly.

  During their quiet days in hiding, Finn spends long hours poring over Evelyn’s old research: notes packed with dense theory, scribbled in a shorthand only a true cursebreaker could decipher. He’s searching for something, anything, that might help with Risa’s curse. Disappointingly, but not unexpectedly, there’s nothing concrete. The work is brilliant, but leagues beyond his understanding.

  “Cassius, your grandmother, Evelyn, she was brilliant,” Finn says, his voice warm with genuine admiration. “Her work, her spells… what she left behind could guide a whole generation.”

  Cassius lifts his chin, pride glinting in his eyes. “That’s my grandma. People used to queue outside just to learn from her, or beg her to lift some nasty curse.”

  Despite Evelyn’s brilliance, Finn can barely grasp fragments of her work, let alone apply it. The theory is too specialised, and the casting too intricate. And yet, he refuses to give up; he spends days and late nights burying his head in the stacks.

  One night, only Finn and Nyx remain awake. Cassius and Risa are long asleep in their sleeping bags in the common room. Finn hunches over a flickering lamp at the study table, a thick tome open before him. Nyx, ever watchful, sits near the window, Cocoa curls against his arm, his silhouette half-swallowed by the shadows as he scans the snow-blanketed garden outside.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Finn sighs and rubs his forehead. “Evelyn was a master of cursecraft. If she were still around… she might’ve even been able to lift Risa’s curse.”

  “If she’s still around…” Nyx’s voice is quiet, almost hesitant.

  “Yes,” Finn murmurs. “If she were alive.”

  A pause. Then Nyx speaks again, gaze drifting from the window to Finn. “What does it mean to not be alive?”

  “You mean…death?”

  Finn sets the book aside and looks at him. “What do you want to know about death?”

  Nyx thinks for a moment. “Cassius and…Bren…they were sad about Evelyn and Daisy’s deaths.”

  Finn nods. “And how do you know they were sad?”

  “The book said people cry when they are sad.”

  Nyx was there when Bren was crying in the Sanctuary. And Cassius… Finn recalls the quiet murmurs at night, the soft sniffles, the whispered Grandma when Cassius thought no one could hear.

  “Do you know why people are sad when someone dies?” Finn asks, gaze gentle.

  Nyx shakes his head. “No.”

  “Because humans are fragile, short-lived. When someone dies, that’s it.” His voice carries both fondness and sorrow.

  His gaze drifts mindlessly from Nyx to Cocoa. “And sometimes, we hold on to what we’ve lost because it’s all we have.”

  Nyx blinks, then tilts his head. “Couldn’t humans just become stronger?”

  The question catches Finn off guard, and then he laughs softly, genuinely and warmly. “Nyx, you’ve got a knack for asking things in ways no one else would.”

  He stands and stretches his arms. “I reckon only a handful of humans, and even elves, are stronger than you.”

  “But that’s exactly why we have to give it our all,” Finn adds, crossing his arms and flashing Nyx a playful smile. “We’re weak, and our time’s short. If we mess up, most of us don’t have someone like you to cover our arses.”

  “So, do you keep me because I’m strong?” Nyx presses.

  Finn grins. “You’re more than that! You’re strong, resilient, and… eh—smart!”

  A never-tired, strong, and obedient mage, who only needs a dish occasionally to satisfy his palate. No monetary compensation needed. Ha!

  Nyx nods slowly, then asks, “How about Cassius?”

  Finn blinks. “Cassius?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well…” Finn rubs his neck, caught off guard. “Cassius is strong, too. Resilient. Not as clever as you. And… a bit more playful.”

  Then, curious, he asks, “Why mention him?”

  Nyx pauses. “…I don’t know.”

  Finn smiles and pats Nyx’s head. “Think on it. You can tell me when you figure it out. Now, I’m heading to bed. Big day tomorrow.”

  They bid each other goodnight. Finn settles into his sleeping bag, while Nyx returns to his post by the window, eyes glinting with thought.

  The night of the meeting.

  The night air is crisp and unnaturally quiet. The snow has stopped falling. No rustling birds, no prowling animals. Just the cold wind dragging over the frozen landscape, hissing through the bushes, and the pale moon glaring high above like a watchful sentinel.

  Then, a glimmer of light from afar. The sound of hooves crunching through snow. A carriage approaches, wheels creaking, until it rolls to a stop at the forest’s edge.

  The driver hushes the horses.

  A man steps out alone. Thick robes, fogged glasses. He pulls them off, wipes them with a cloth, and places them carefully back onto his nose. Thin lips pressed into a tight line. Eyes darting, suspicious. Searching.

  Behind a nearby tree, Finn watches. Hood drawn, face masked. Once he sees the carriage has vanished into the snow, he takes a breath and hurls a fireball. It slams into the ground at Cedric’s feet, spraying snow.

  Cedric jumps back, swearing. “Bloody hell! Are you here for the money or my life?”

  Finn steps out slowly, voice disguised. “Mr Cedric, pardon my manners. Just ensuring you’re alone.”

  Cedric glares, breathing hard. He brushes invisible dust from his coat and mutters, “Let’s get this over with. Where did you know about that namelist?”

  Finn shrugs, lips curling beneath the mask. “Doesn’t matter. I’m only here for the money.”

  He raises his hand. “Or the next fireball won’t miss.”

  Cedric scowls but composes himself, producing a storage stone. Two large sacks of coin materialise on the snow.

  “There. Now where’s the list?”

  Finn flicks his wrist. A scroll appears.

  The moment Finn pulls out the list, a fireball flies and goes directly at the parchment. Finn jerks his arm, tossing the scroll to the ground. The second fireball doesn't miss its target this time, and the list erupts into flame, ashes scattering in the wind.

  “You brought backup?” Finn shouts, stepping back.

  Cedric grins coldly. “Did you think I’m just a headmaster? I’m Farnham blood!”

  Figures step out from the shadows. One by one. Six in total.

  “Well,” Finn smirks beneath the mask, “never heard of them. Small family, is it?”

  Cedric’s face twists. “Enough! Bring him down!”

  At his signal, six figures spring into action. They draw their blades and hurl spells at Finn.