Sorry for the late update, guys .
Been having tests and exams.
So updates might be slow for a while.
Thanks guys...
**********
Arthur's nose wrinkled the moment they stepped into Muncain. The air shimmered like glass beneath sunlight, warping reality for just a breath before unfolding into an entirely different dimension—one ancient, whimsical, and unmistakably enchanted.
"What is this place?" he asked, frowning. "It smells like burnt cinnamon and old books."
"Exactly," Dorian muttered, grinning despite himself. "Muncain always smells like memory."
Arthur raised a brow. "What does that even mean?"
"You'll get it soon enough."
The cobbled streets of Muncain curved impossibly, defying geometry as though built by dream logic. Lampposts leaned toward passersby with curious creaks, and buildings murmured secrets to one another when no one was watching. Vines spiraled in fractal patterns along the walls, their flowers opening and closing like breathing mouths. Despite the otherworldly impossibility of the place, it was oddly comforting—as though magic had decided to settle down and craft a town in its own image.
Arthur squinted at a bronze plaque near the arched entrance. "So what even is Muncain? It sounds mundane."
Dorian exhaled and waited until their group paused near the old griffin statue that marked the plaza's heart. "Muncain is... a sanctuary. A semi-sentient pocket city of magical history. One part market, one part memory vault, and one part living museum. Wizards and witches don't just shop here—they remember here. Relive. Relearn."
Arthur looked around at the cobbled streets and whispering shutters. "That's ominous."
"Better than Diagon Alley," Dorian shrugged. "Less tourists. Fewer cursed items. And it's safer. Usually."
Unlike others who paid their way in with expensive enchanted passes, the Reeves—being a known pure-blood family with deep ancestral ties to Muncain—were granted access through a token: a polished copper medallion Cassian carried, passed down from his grandfather. Though the Reeves family branched widely, the main line still bore privileges and secrets that Arthur was only beginning to understand.
Not that Cassian or Daniel were with them now.
Cassian, being the firstborn of his line, had the ancient gift of Beasttongue—a magical dialect spoken to and understood by magical beasts. It ran through blood, not teaching. Daniel, his eldest son at 20, had inherited the rare trait as well. Father and son had splintered off from the group earlier to undergo advanced training in the arcane bestiary beneath the western wing of Muncain. A labyrinthine place only Beasttongues were permitted to enter.
Which left Lenora—Arthur's aunt and their mom—to guide the rest of the family: Dorian, Micah, Liam, Vivienne, and Arthur himself.
Shopping in Muncain was like navigating a fairytale with a credit limit.
Liam practically vibrated with joy as they entered Wolfram & Root, the famed wandmaker's atelier.
The wandmaster—an elegant man with lacquer-black nails and glowing monocles—inspected Dorian with a long-suffering frown.
"Again?"
Dorian offered a sheepish shrug. "My last wand imploded. Too much power buildup."
The wandmaker sighed, already retreating into the shelves like a man resigned to fate. "Twenty-seventh wand. Try not to melt this one."
Moments later, Liam gasped as his own wand flew from the shelf and spun in the air, glowing faintly gold. It sparked with joy as it settled in his palm.
"He's got one," Micah whispered, grinning.
They visited the bookstore—Quill & Sable—where books shifted away from Arthur and piled around Liam like bees to honey. Vivienne was nearly swallowed by a section titled Illusions, Trickery & Polite Mischief, her delighted laughter echoing through the shelves.
Next came *Lacuna's Menagerie*. A sprawling, enchanted zoo-shop hybrid that housed everything from phoenix hatchlings to thunder-toads to shimmering fire-spiders. Liam cooed over a miniature dragon that purred like a cat, ultimately choosing a sleepy cloud fox that curled around his shoulders like a scarf and occasionally snored snowflakes.
Arthur, however, froze halfway in.
The animal voices were overwhelming. The constant chorus of need, instinct, curiosity, hunger, and feeling pounded against his skull.
Quiet. Please. Shut up, he thought, but his Beasttongue gift only made the noise sharper, more intimate, more unbearable.
Amid the mental storm, one creature caught his attention—completely silent, utterly still. It sat in the back, shadowed and watching. It didn't twitch, didn't breathe. Wrong.
His gut twisted. Instinct screamed.
Lenora finished her errands quickly, sensing something was off. The air felt heavier. The light... wrong.
As they turned to leave Muncain, laughter and casual chatter among the crowd shattered into chaos by a single, piercing shriek. A beast had escaped. Chaos unfurled like a broken spell unraveling its threads into the street.
Dorian's grip on his new wand tightened. "Mom—get Vivienne and Liam out of here. Now."
Lenora nodded sharply, scooping the two into protective wards and dragging them toward safety.
He turned to Arthur and Micah. "You two... don't die."
With that, he blurred forward, arcane energy crackling as his Core activated, wrapping him in radiant blue runes and pulsing protection. His coat flared behind him like a banner of light.
But Arthur hesitated.
He heard it. A whisper. Clearer than the others.
"Now. Do it now. Kill the One. He must die."
Arthur turned just in time.
The silent creature from earlier lunged forward, knocking over three carts in its wake. Arthur reacted instantly, casting a wide shield spell that flung the monster backwards with a thunderclap.
For a second, everything froze.
Arthur saw it clearly now: a nightmarish fusion of dog, cat, and insect. Its eyes were wrong—one glowed green, another twitched mechanically like a failing machine. Its limbs didn't move like they belonged to the same being. It looked like something scribbled in the margins of a madman's notebook and then brought to life with a curse.
"Well, that's new," Arthur said, eyes wide. "Also, ew."
Micah landed beside him, grinning despite the chaos. "You got the ugly one."
"Lucky me."
Arthur's magic flared. His black hair shimmered into silver, eyes gleaming blue as cold radiated off him in shimmering waves. Micah's transformation mirrored his—older, sharper, more controlled. Like twin winter spirits born for battle.
They darted forward.
Micah led, freezing the cobbled path beneath their feet to slow the beast's retreat. Arthur followed with precise bursts of ice magic, sending walls of jagged frost to trap and redirect it toward an alleyway.
Despite the chaos, they moved like a symphony—each motion anticipated, each spell layered. It was like they had trained together for years. Maybe they had, in ways they didn't fully understand.
And above it all, Arthur still heard the creature's echo:
"Kill the One. Kill the one."
They kept the creature moving, forcing it away from civilians, until suddenly—
It stopped.
Not out of exhaustion. Not fear.
But evolution.
A tremor rippled through the air like the shudder of a plucked string.
The creature spasmed—once, twice—then split open with a wrenching sound, like silk tearing beneath metal claws. Not physically, but magically. Like a shell cracking around something deeper, darker. Its form convulsed, limbs lengthening grotesquely. Spines erupted from its back, twitching like antennae. A second jaw slid forward beneath the first. Same was happening at Dorian's side
Arthur's stomach turned. "Did that thing just get a buff?."
Power surged around it—raw, hungry, unnatural.
Like someone had poured cursed starlight into a mold of meat and madness.
Micah skidded to a stop beside him, breath visible in the frost-bitten air. "What the hell just happened?"
Arthur didn't answer. He was too busy watching the thing unravel and reform. No longer a beast. No longer a mistake.
A weapon.
The air thickened, like the world was holding its breath.
Then it roared.
A sound made of metal and mourning, claws and collapse. It didn't just shake the plaza—it fractured it. Cobblestones lifted like feathers. Shop windows exploded. Trees shriveled. A wave of force rippled from the creature's core, knocking them back.
Arthur hit the ground hard, ears ringing. Micah rolled beside him, teeth gritted.
"We've got a problem. These things have plot armor," Arthur muttered, frost spiraling from his lips.
Another pulse of magic radiated from the beast—like sonar. Like it was searching.
Then—cracks of apparition.
Cassian arrived first, cloak flaring, at Dorian's side, who was already casting protective barriers with ease. Then Daniel—cold-eyed and focused—stepped beside Arthur and Micah, wand drawn.
But none of them attacked.
Instead, Cassian raised his hand. Daniel mirrored him.
They spoke—not words, not spells—but Beasttongue.
It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. The language was music and vibration, spoken in the soul more than the air. Each word landed with a strange weight, like a forgotten lullaby dredged from the bones of the earth.
Arthur understood every syllable.
He felt it in his spine, in his ribs, like remembering something he'd never learned.
The tone.
The rhythm.
The meaning.
"Sleep, brother. Be still. You are not your rage."
The beast snarled—but its twitching slowed.
More words.
"You are more than the pain you were given. Rest now."
The air shifted. The violence leaking from both creature's form dulled. Its limbs buckled—not in defeat, but relief. It collapsed with a soft, wheezing exhale, like a child curling into a parent's arms.
Silence.
Even the wind held still.
Later, in one of the shops that was nearby, a bakery, surrounded by broken lamps and glowing wards, Arthur sat with his hands clenched.
Cassian knelt beside him, his voice low.
"They're called Varnhounds," he said. "Genetically altered magibeasts. Bred for psychic bonding, often as protectors. Very rare. Very illegal."
Daniel added, "They're designed to be emotionally intuitive. Linked through thought. They don't usually go feral unless mistreated or bound to someone dangerous."
Arthur stared down at his hands. "It wasn't just feral. It was... focused. They had orders."
Cassian frowned. "We know. We heard."
Arthur didn't look up neither did he hear. "They kept repeating one thing. Over and over."
"What?"
Arthur's voice dropped.
"'Kill the One. Kill the One. Kill the One.'"
Silence.
Then Cassian blinked. "You heard it?"
Arthur finally looked up. His eyes were still tinted with frost-blue light. "Nope," he said flatly. "Just made it up for dramatic effect."
Micah let out a single huff of laughter.
But Daniel didn't smile.
He and Cassian exchanged a long, silent look.
There would be questions later.
And Arthur knew—deep down—that the target hadn't just been random.
It had been him.
Of course, he thought. Why not?
The bell above the shop door gave a half-hearted jingle as Arthur pushed it open and stepped into the chaos of Muncain's soot-stained streets.
He blinked like someone waking up mid-apocalypse.
Smoke curled from melted lamp posts. A shopkeeper sobbed over a warped broom. Somewhere off to the left, someone howled, "MY TURNIPS!"
Cassian stepped out behind him, coat askew, hair only marginally singed. Dorian followed, finishing the last bite of what appeared to be a perfectly intact éclair.
"Well," Dorian said brightly, brushing powdered sugar off his robes, "that was... mildly traumatic. Anyone else still peckish?"
Daniel arched a brow. "You're eating like we didn't just survive a magical bio-weapon stitched together by someone with trauma and free time."
"It was warm!" Dorian protested. "And had excellent vanilla notes!"
Arthur stared at the crater where the creature had collapsed, now ringed with steaming cobblestones. His fingers twitched. The silver in his hair hadn't faded yet. His pulse was no longer racing—but it was humming discordantly, like a piano that had swallowed guilt.
Then came the sound.
Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
Heels.
They turned as one.
Striding toward them like the embodiment of an audit was a woman in a charcoal high-collared coat, gold-stitched sigils glowing faintly along the hem. Her heels struck the ground with magically-enhanced precision. Her glasses caught the sunlight like a mirror and a threat.
She wasn't alone. A squad of Ilvermorny-trained enforcers—Wand Regulation Division, MACUSA's version of Aurors—fanned out behind her, wands already out, robes marked with the Magical Enforcement Seal.
Cassian stiffened instantly. "Oh no."
"Oh yes," Daniel said with a grin.
"She's here to arrest us," Arthur muttered.
"Or demand an autograph," Dorian added. "She looks like someone who owns limited editions."
"No," Cassian said, tightening his grip on Arthur's shoulder. "That's Eliane."
"Eliane?" Arthur echoed.
"My boss," Cassian said grimly. "And my ex."
"Wait," Dorian said. "You mean the Eliane? MACUSA's Head of the Department of Magical Creatures?"
Cassian nodded without joy. "We both ran for it. She won."
"She looks like she eats paperwork for breakfast," Liam whispered.
"She does," Cassian replied. "And critiques the seasoning."
Eliane stopped just short of the crater, eyes scanning the group. They landed on Cassian first, then swept across the teens. Her gaze lingered only a second longer on Arthur.
"Reeves," she said.
"Director Eliane," Cassian replied, spine straight. "Creature is down. Students unharmed. City... moderately scorched."
She adjusted her glasses. "The usual, then."
Daniel stepped forward with the kind of charming smile that had once talked a banshee out of court.
"Eliane," he greeted smoothly. "Still haunting street corners like an ominous metaphor?"
She didn't blink. "Daniel. Still flirting with national security breaches?"
"Oh, constantly."
She ignored him and turned to the floating body of the creature, still wrapped in glowing magical bindings.
She muttered a spell.
Runes—dark, blood-lined, and pulsing—bloomed mid-air.
"Abominable work," she muttered. "It was rewritten. Reforged. This thing wasn't born—it was designed. Infected magic, repurposed biology. Someone's been reading ancient Thalmarian grimoires again."
Lenora Reeves stepped forward from behind, wiping ash off her coat. "Which is illegal under the Conjuration Clause. Third-level violation."
Cassian gave her a sharp glance. "You're quoting regulations now?"
She smiled thinly. "Better than quoting your hospital bill."
Arthur blinked. "Wait—Mrs. Reeves? You were here the whole time?"
"She's always here," Dorian muttered. "Usually in the background, judging."
"Thank you," Lenora said sweetly.
Eliane's gaze pinned Arthur again. "You."
"You heard it?"
He nodded, already rubbing his temple. "It kept saying 'Kill the One'. Over and over. Real original, right?"
She tilted her head. "You shouldn't have been able to hear it. It didn't open its mouth."
"That's because it didn't have to," he muttered. "It was inside my skull. Whispering like a leaky faucet.
Cassian stepped in, tense. "He's got the gift. Beasttongue."
Eliane's eyes narrowed. "That's impossible. The Reeves line—"
"—is right here," Arthur cut in, annoyed. "Hi. Arthur Reeves. Almost died twice in the last two years. Once to a Cerberus with self-esteem issues. Once to a Basilisk with trust issues. Yes, I can hear things I'm not supposed to."
Daniel gave a quiet, proud nod. "He's got it worse than I did."
"And you were diagnosed with magical empathy migraines at thirteen," Cassian muttered.
"I was ten," Daniel corrected mildly. "And I cried every time our cat meowed."
Eliane ignored them. "So he's your nephew. And a carrier of Beasttongue."
Arthur crossed his arms. "Honestly, I'd love to return the whole ability and just be normal."
"That would be highly unlikely," Cassian growled. "Unless you want to be like Daniel and just refuse to use it."
"I didn't refuse—I channel it differently. Like you do," Daniel said. "Some of us express trauma in creative ways."
Arthur waved a hand. "Focus. Creepy beast. Death whispering. Nearly crushed by concrete magic. Can we circle back?"
Eliane exhaled. "Fine. The creature was designed to be magically silent, but mentally loud. Only someone with Beasttongue would've picked up the command."
Arthur's voice dropped. "It said, Kill. But it didn't say who."
Silence thickened again.
"Of course not," Lenora muttered. "Would've been too convenient."
Micah frowned. "Does that mean Arthur's the One? Or someone else is?"
Arthur looked skyward, exasperated. "I don't want to be the One. I want to be the Guy Who Sits In the Back and Does Homework."
"You'd still get blown up," Dorian said casually.
"True."
The rest of the group arrived then—Vivienne and Liam, looking bruised, windblown, and mildly singed.
Vivienne glanced around. "What'd we miss?"
Micah pointed. "Ex-girlfriend. Boss. Dragon energy. It's complicated."
Vivienne stared at Eliane. "She's scarier than I imagined."
"She's not here to take him," Cassian said, moving subtly in front of Arthur.
Eliane raised an eyebrow. "He's not a prisoner, Cassian."
"Then why show up with enforcement?"
"I don't walk into magically active crime scenes with just a smile."
Cassian's jaw tightened. "He's under my protection."
"I'm not here to detain him," she said, sighing. "But I am here to ask questions. You're the Deputy Director. You know the protocol."
"You're bending it."
"I am it."
Arthur looked between them. "Are you seriously arguing about custody right now?"
"Yes," they both snapped.
Daniel cut in, voice breezy. "Arthur's transferring to Ilvermorny. Honors Track. Top tier. Big future. Let's maybe avoid traumatizing him with internal power struggles."
Eliane turned to him slowly. "That sentence was horrifying."
"Thank you," Daniel replied. "I try."
Eliane flicked her fingers. The runes sealed around the creature's body and vanished.
"Fine," she said, gaze unreadable. "Keep him."
She turned to leave—but paused. "If he starts manifesting runic patterns in his dreams or sprouts a tail, I want a call. Immediately."
She started walking. The enforcers followed in precise, practiced formation.
But just before vanishing, she turned to Cassian one last time.
"Still dressing like an underpaid academic caught in a wind tunnel?"
He crossed his arms. "Still weaponizing personality like a Ministry file folder."
With a snap of compressed air, she and her team were gone.
Silence.
Then:
Dorian turned to Cassian. "So. Was she the one who hexed your fireplace into screaming every time someone mentioned her?"
Cassian muttered, "She filed that under 'personal growth.'"
Lenora smirked. " So kids, this is why you don't date your competition."
Arthur looked between them all, eyes wide. "Your entire family is certifiably unwell."
Daniel slung an arm around his shoulders. "Welcome to America."The bell above the shop door gave a half-hearted jingle as Arthur pushed it open and stepped into the chaos of Muncain's soot-stained streets.
He blinked like someone waking up mid-apocalypse.
Smoke curled from melted lamp posts. A shopkeeper sobbed over a warped broom. Somewhere off to the left, someone howled, "MY TURNIPS!"
Cassian stepped out behind him, coat askew, hair only marginally singed. Dorian followed, finishing the last bite of what appeared to be a perfectly intact éclair.
"Well," Dorian said brightly, brushing powdered sugar off his robes, "that was... mildly traumatic. Anyone else still peckish?"
Daniel arched a brow. "You're eating like we didn't just survive a magical bio-weapon stitched together by someone with trauma and free time."
"It was warm!" Dorian protested. "And had excellent vanilla notes!"
Arthur stared at the crater where the creature had collapsed, now ringed with steaming cobblestones. His fingers twitched. The silver in his hair hadn't faded yet. His pulse was no longer racing—but it was humming discordantly, like a piano that had swallowed guilt.
Then came the sound.
Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
Heels.
They turned as one.
Striding toward them like the embodiment of an audit was a woman in a charcoal high-collared coat, gold-stitched sigils glowing faintly along the hem. Her heels struck the ground with magically-enhanced precision. Her glasses caught the sunlight like a mirror and a threat.
She wasn't alone. A squad of Ilvermorny-trained enforcers—Wand Regulation Division, MACUSA's version of Aurors—fanned out behind her, wands already out, robes marked with the Magical Enforcement Seal.
Cassian stiffened instantly. "Oh no."
"Oh yes," Daniel said with a grin.
"She's here to arrest us," Arthur muttered.
"Or demand an autograph," Dorian added. "She looks like someone who owns limited editions."
"No," Cassian said, tightening his grip on Arthur's shoulder. "That's Eliane."
"Eliane?" Arthur echoed.
"My boss," Cassian said grimly. "And my ex."
"Wait," Dorian said. "You mean the Eliane? MACUSA's Head of the Department of Magical Creatures?"
Cassian nodded without joy. "We both ran for it. She won."
"She looks like she eats paperwork for breakfast," Liam whispered.
"She does," Cassian replied. "And critiques the seasoning."
Eliane stopped just short of the crater, eyes scanning the group. They landed on Cassian first, then swept across the teens. Her gaze lingered only a second longer on Arthur.
"Reeves," she said.
"Director Eliane," Cassian replied, spine straight. "Creature is down. Students unharmed. City... moderately scorched."
She adjusted her glasses. "The usual, then."
Daniel stepped forward with the kind of charming smile that had once talked a banshee out of court.
"Eliane," he greeted smoothly. "Still haunting street corners like an ominous metaphor?"
She didn't blink. "Daniel. Still flirting with national security breaches?"
"Oh, constantly."
She ignored him and turned to the floating body of the creature, still wrapped in glowing magical bindings.
She muttered a spell.
Runes—dark, blood-lined, and pulsing—bloomed mid-air.
"Abominable work," she muttered. "It was rewritten. Reforged. This thing wasn't born—it was designed. Infected magic, repurposed biology. Someone's been reading ancient Thalmarian grimoires again."
Lenora Reeves stepped forward from behind, wiping ash off her coat. "Which is illegal under the Conjuration Clause. Third-level violation."
Cassian gave her a sharp glance. "You're quoting regulations now?"
She smiled thinly. "Better than quoting your hospital bill."
Arthur blinked. "Wait—Mrs. Reeves? You were here the whole time?"
"She's always here," Dorian muttered. "Usually in the background, judging."
"Thank you," Lenora said sweetly.
Eliane's gaze pinned Arthur again. "You."
Arthur froze.
"You heard it speak," she said.
"…Technically?"
"It wasn't vocal," she said. "The creature's mouth didn't move. But the code—the embedded curses—were meant to transmit. You still heard it."
Arthur hesitated. "It said… 'Kill the One.' Over and over."
Daniel sucked in a breath. "Well, that's comforting."
"Did it name which 'One'?" Eliane asked.
"I was a little distracted by the giant scorpion tail at the time," Arthur said dryly.
"Shame," Eliane murmured.
The rest of the group arrived then—Vivienne, Micah, and the others looking bruised, windblown, and mildly singed.
Vivienne glanced around. "What'd we miss?"
Liam pointed. "Ex-girlfriend. Boss. Dragon energy. It's complicated."
Vivienne stared at Eliane. "She's scarier than I imagined."
"She's not here to take him," Cassian said, moving subtly in front of Arthur.
Eliane raised an eyebrow. "He's not a prisoner, Cassian."
"Then why show up with enforcement?"
"I don't walk into magically active crime scenes with just a smile."
Cassian's jaw tightened. "He's under my protection."
"I'm not here to detain him," she said, sighing. "But I am here to ask questions. You're the Deputy Director. You know the protocol."
"You're bending it."
"I am it."
Arthur looked between them. "Are you seriously arguing about custody right now?"
"Yes," they both snapped.
Daniel cut in, voice breezy. "Arthur's transferring to Ilvermorny. Honors Track. Top tier. Big future. Let's maybe avoid traumatizing him with interdepartmental power struggles."
Eliane turned to him slowly. "That sentence was horrifying."
"Thank you," Daniel replied. "I try."
Eliane flicked her fingers. The runes sealed around the creature's body and vanished.
"Fine," she said, gaze unreadable. "Keep him."
She turned to leave—but paused. "If he starts manifesting runic patterns in his dreams or sprouts a tail, I want a call. Immediately."
She started walking. The enforcers followed in precise, practiced formation.
But just before vanishing, she turned to Cassian one last time.
"Still dressing like an underpaid academic caught in a wind tunnel?"
He crossed his arms. "Still weaponizing personality like a Ministry file folder."
With a snap of compressed air, she and her team were gone.
Silence.
Then:
Dorian turned to Cassian. "So. Was she the one who hexed your fireplace into screaming every time someone mentioned her?"
Cassian muttered, "She filed that under 'personal growth.'"
Lenora smirked. "I told you not to date your competition."
Arthur looked between them all, eyes wide. "Your entire family is certifiably unwell."
Daniel slung an arm around his shoulders. "Welcome to America."
The bell above the shop door gave a half-hearted jingle as Arthur pushed it open and stepped into the chaos of Muncain's soot-stained streets.
He blinked like someone waking up mid-apocalypse.
Smoke curled from melted lamp posts. A shopkeeper sobbed over a warped broom. Somewhere off to the left, someone howled, "MY TURNIPS!"
Cassian stepped out behind him, coat askew, hair only marginally singed. Dorian followed, finishing the last bite of what appeared to be a perfectly intact éclair.
"Well," Dorian said brightly, brushing powdered sugar off his robes, "that was... mildly traumatic. Anyone else still peckish?"
Daniel arched a brow. "You're eating like we didn't just survive a magical bio-weapon stitched together by someone with trauma and free time."
"It was warm!" Dorian protested. "And had excellent vanilla notes!"
Arthur stared at the crater where the creature had collapsed, now ringed with steaming cobblestones. His fingers twitched. The silver in his hair hadn't faded yet. His pulse was no longer racing—but it was humming discordantly, like a piano that had swallowed guilt.
Then came the sound.
Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
Heels.
They turned as one.
Striding toward them like the embodiment of an audit was a woman in a charcoal high-collared coat, gold-stitched sigils glowing faintly along the hem. Her heels struck the ground with magically-enhanced precision. Her glasses caught the sunlight like a mirror and a threat.
She wasn't alone. A squad of Ilvermorny-trained enforcers—Wand Regulation Division, MACUSA's version of Aurors—fanned out behind her, wands already out, robes marked with the Magical Enforcement Seal.
Cassian stiffened instantly. "Oh no."
"Oh yes," Daniel said with a grin.
"She's here to arrest us," Arthur muttered.
"Or demand an autograph," Dorian added. "She looks like someone who owns limited editions."
"No," Cassian said, tightening his grip on Arthur's shoulder. "That's Eliane."
"Eliane?" Arthur echoed.
"My boss," Cassian said grimly. "And my ex."
"Wait," Dorian said. "You mean the Eliane? MACUSA's Head of the Department of Magical Creatures?"
Cassian nodded without joy. "We both ran for it. She won."
"She looks like she eats paperwork for breakfast," Liam whispered.
"She does," Cassian replied. "And critiques the seasoning."
Eliane stopped just short of the crater, eyes scanning the group. They landed on Cassian first, then swept across the teens. Her gaze lingered only a second longer on Arthur.
"Reeves," she said.
"Director Eliane," Cassian replied, spine straight. "Creature is down. Students unharmed. City... moderately scorched."
She adjusted her glasses. "The usual, then."
Daniel stepped forward with the kind of charming smile that had once talked a banshee out of court.
"Eliane," he greeted smoothly. "Still haunting street corners like an ominous metaphor?"
She didn't blink. "Daniel. Still flirting with national security breaches?"
"Oh, constantly."
She ignored him and turned to the floating body of the creature, still wrapped in glowing magical bindings.
She muttered a spell.
Runes—dark, blood-lined, and pulsing—bloomed mid-air.
"Abominable work," she muttered. "It was rewritten. Reforged. This thing wasn't born—it was designed. Infected magic, repurposed biology. Someone's been reading ancient Thalmarian grimoires again."
Lenora Reeves stepped forward from behind, wiping ash off her coat. "Which is illegal under the Conjuration Clause. Third-level violation."
Cassian gave her a sharp glance. "You're quoting regulations now?"
She smiled thinly. "Better than quoting your hospital bill."
Arthur blinked. "Wait—Mrs. Reeves? You were here the whole time?"
"She's always here," Dorian muttered. "Usually in the background, judging."
"Thank you," Lenora said sweetly.
Eliane's gaze pinned Arthur again. "You."
Arthur froze.
"You heard it speak," she said.
"…Technically?"
"It wasn't vocal," she said. "The creature's mouth didn't move. But the code—the embedded curses—were meant to transmit. You still heard it."
Arthur hesitated. "It said… 'Kill the One.' Over and over."
Daniel sucked in a breath. "Well, that's comforting."
"Did it name which 'One'?" Eliane asked.
"I was a little distracted by the giant scorpion tail at the time," Arthur said dryly.
"Shame," Eliane murmured.
The rest of the group arrived then—Vivienne, Micah, and the others looking bruised, windblown, and mildly singed.
Vivienne glanced around. "What'd we miss?"
Liam pointed. "Ex-girlfriend. Boss. Dragon energy. It's complicated."
Vivienne stared at Eliane. "She's scarier than I imagined."
"She's not here to take him," Cassian said, moving subtly in front of Arthur.
Eliane raised an eyebrow. "He's not a prisoner, Cassian."
"Then why show up with enforcement?"
"I don't walk into magically active crime scenes with just a smile."
Cassian's jaw tightened. "He's under my protection."
"I'm not here to detain him," she said, sighing. "But I am here to ask questions. You're the Deputy Director. You know the protocol."
"You're bending it."
"I am it."
Arthur looked between them. "Are you seriously arguing about custody right now?"
"Yes," they both snapped.
Daniel cut in, voice breezy. "Arthur's transferring to Ilvermorny. Honors Track. Top tier. Big future. Let's maybe avoid traumatizing him with interdepartmental power struggles."
Eliane turned to him slowly. "That sentence was horrifying."
"Thank you," Daniel replied. "I try."
Eliane flicked her fingers. The runes sealed around the creature's body and vanished.
"Fine," she said, gaze unreadable. "Keep him."
She turned to leave—but paused. "If he starts manifesting runic patterns in his dreams or sprouts a tail, I want a call. Immediately."
She started walking. The enforcers followed in precise, practiced formation.
But just before vanishing, she turned to Cassian one last time.
"Still dressing like an underpaid academic caught in a wind tunnel?"
He crossed his arms. "Still weaponizing personality like a Ministry file folder."
With a snap of compressed air, she and her team were gone.
Silence.
Then:
Dorian turned to Cassian. "So. Was she the one who hexed your fireplace into screaming every time someone mentioned her?"
Cassian muttered, "She filed that under 'personal growth.'"
Lenora smirked. "I told you not to date your competition."
Arthur looked between them all, eyes wide. "Your entire family is certifiably unwell."
Daniel slung an arm around his shoulders. "Welcome to America."
The bell above the shop door gave a half-hearted jingle as Arthur pushed it open and stepped into the chaos of Muncain's soot-stained streets.
He blinked like someone waking up mid-apocalypse.
Smoke curled from melted lamp posts. A shopkeeper sobbed over a warped broom. Somewhere off to the left, someone howled, "MY TURNIPS!"
Cassian stepped out behind him, coat askew, hair only marginally singed. Dorian followed, finishing the last bite of what appeared to be a perfectly intact éclair.
"Well," Dorian said brightly, brushing powdered sugar off his robes, "that was... mildly traumatic. Anyone else still peckish?"
Daniel arched a brow. "You're eating like we didn't just survive a magical bio-weapon stitched together by someone with trauma and free time."
"It was warm!" Dorian protested. "And had excellent vanilla notes!"
Arthur stared at the crater where the creature had collapsed, now ringed with steaming cobblestones. His fingers twitched. The silver in his hair hadn't faded yet. His pulse was no longer racing—but it was humming discordantly, like a piano that had swallowed guilt.
Then came the sound.
Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
Heels.
They turned as one.
Striding toward them like the embodiment of an audit was a woman in a charcoal high-collared coat, gold-stitched sigils glowing faintly along the hem. Her heels struck the ground with magically-enhanced precision. Her glasses caught the sunlight like a mirror and a threat.
She wasn't alone. A squad of Ilvermorny-trained enforcers—Wand Regulation Division, MACUSA's version of Aurors—fanned out behind her, wands already out, robes marked with the Magical Enforcement Seal.
Cassian stiffened instantly. "Oh no."
"Oh yes," Daniel said with a grin.
"She's here to arrest us," Arthur muttered.
"Or demand an autograph," Dorian added. "She looks like someone who owns limited editions."
"No," Cassian said, tightening his grip on Arthur's shoulder. "That's Eliane."
"Eliane?" Arthur echoed.
"My boss," Cassian said grimly. "And my ex."
"Wait," Dorian said. "You mean the Eliane? MACUSA's Head of the Department of Magical Creatures?"
Cassian nodded without joy. "We both ran for it. She won."
"She looks like she eats paperwork for breakfast," Liam whispered.
"She does," Cassian replied. "And critiques the seasoning."
Eliane stopped just short of the crater, eyes scanning the group. They landed on Cassian first, then swept across the teens. Her gaze lingered only a second longer on Arthur.
"Reeves," she said.
"Director Eliane," Cassian replied, spine straight. "Creature is down. Students unharmed. City... moderately scorched."
She adjusted her glasses. "The usual, then."
Daniel stepped forward with the kind of charming smile that had once talked a banshee out of court.
"Eliane," he greeted smoothly. "Still haunting street corners like an ominous metaphor?"
She didn't blink. "Daniel. Still flirting with national security breaches?"
"Oh, constantly."
She ignored him and turned to the floating body of the creature, still wrapped in glowing magical bindings.
She muttered a spell.
Runes—dark, blood-lined, and pulsing—bloomed mid-air.
"Abominable work," she muttered. "It was rewritten. Reforged. This thing wasn't born—it was designed. Infected magic, repurposed biology. Someone's been reading ancient Thalmarian grimoires again."
Lenora Reeves stepped forward from behind, wiping ash off her coat. "Which is illegal under the Conjuration Clause. Third-level violation."
Cassian gave her a sharp glance. "You're quoting regulations now?"
She smiled thinly. "Better than quoting your hospital bill."
Arthur blinked. "Wait—Mrs. Reeves? You were here the whole time?"
"She's always here," Dorian muttered. "Usually in the background, judging."
"Thank you," Lenora said sweetly.
Eliane's gaze pinned Arthur again. "You."
Arthur froze.
"You heard it speak," she said.
"…Technically?"
"It wasn't vocal," she said. "The creature's mouth didn't move. But the code—the embedded curses—were meant to transmit. You still heard it."
Arthur hesitated. "It said… 'Kill the One.' Over and over."
Daniel sucked in a breath. "Well, that's comforting."
"Did it name which 'One'?" Eliane asked.
"I was a little distracted by the giant scorpion tail at the time," Arthur said dryly.
"Shame," Eliane murmured.
The rest of the group arrived then—Vivienne, Micah, and the others looking bruised, windblown, and mildly singed.
Vivienne glanced around. "What'd we miss?"
Liam pointed. "Ex-girlfriend. Boss. Dragon energy. It's complicated."
Vivienne stared at Eliane. "She's scarier than I imagined."
"She's not here to take him," Cassian said, moving subtly in front of Arthur.
Eliane raised an eyebrow. "He's not a prisoner, Cassian."
"Then why show up with enforcement?"
"I don't walk into magically active crime scenes with just a smile."
Cassian's jaw tightened. "He's under my protection."
"I'm not here to detain him," she said, sighing. "But I am here to ask questions. You're the Deputy Director. You know the protocol."
"You're bending it."
"I am it."
Arthur looked between them. "Are you seriously arguing about custody right now?"
"Yes," they both snapped.
Daniel cut in, voice breezy. "Arthur's transferring to Ilvermorny. Honors Track. Top tier. Big future. Let's maybe avoid traumatizing him with interdepartmental power struggles."
Eliane turned to him slowly. "That sentence was horrifying."
"Thank you," Daniel replied. "I try."
Eliane flicked her fingers. The runes sealed around the creature's body and vanished.
"Fine," she said, gaze unreadable. "Keep him."
She turned to leave—but paused. "If he starts manifesting runic patterns in his dreams or sprouts a tail, I want a call. Immediately."
She started walking. The enforcers followed in precise, practiced formation.
But just before vanishing, she turned to Cassian one last time.
"Still dressing like an underpaid academic caught in a wind tunnel?"
He crossed his arms. "Still weaponizing personality like a Ministry file folder."
With a snap of compressed air, she and her team were gone.
Silence.
Then:
Dorian turned to Cassian. "So. Was she the one who hexed your fireplace into screaming every time someone mentioned her?"
Cassian muttered, "She filed that under 'personal growth.'"
Lenora smirked. "I told you not to date your competition."
Arthur looked between them all, eyes wide. "Your entire family is certifiably unwell."
Daniel slung an arm around his shoulders. "Welcome to America."