The tunnel roared behind them, echoing with shouts, magic bursts, and crumbling stone. Hope's lungs burned as she sprinted, her fingers interlaced tightly with London's. The others followed close behind—Raphael's werewolf form snarling at the rear, Daemon guarding their flank with bursts of shadow magic, and Stephen doing his best to hurl dazzling light bombs over his shoulder while yelling witty curses.
"Trent? Really? I helped him cheat in glyph class!" Stephen bellowed as he ducked a bolt of dark magic that splintered a torch beside his head. "Betraying me is so ungrateful!"
"Less talk, more running!" Daemon snapped.
"Your face is less talk, more grumpy," Stephen muttered.
Hope glanced at London. Despite the chaos, he looked composed. Focused. Something in him had shifted—he wasn't just surviving anymore. He was ready. For a moment, she almost forgot what had happened just hours ago. He had died. And come back in flames.
Now, he was running beside her, jaw set with silent resolve.
They reached a fork in the tunnel. Daemon skidded to a halt. "Left leads toward the lower catacombs. Right goes under the courtyard."
"Which way gets us out faster?" Jessa asked, panting.
Daemon looked at the stonework, then muttered, "Right. But it's more exposed."
"Then let's make it quick," Raphael said, shifting slightly back into human form, still shirtless and breathing hard from the exertion. "We can't fight them here—not with Hope and London tired."
"I'm not tired," London said suddenly.
Everyone turned. He looked surprised by his own words.
"I feel… better now. Stronger. It's like the fire didn't just bring me back—it filled me with something. I think I can fight."
Hope blinked. "You sure?"
London nodded. "We can't keep running forever."
Stephen grinned. "Well now I definitely like Phoenix-Boy."
"Then we move together," Daemon ordered. "And when we hit the courtyard, we make a break for the southern tower. From there, we can rally the others and alert the faculty."
They charged right.
As they rounded the corner, the tunnel opened into a massive underground hall supported by cracked stone columns. Ahead, moonlight streamed through ancient iron bars—the base of the courtyard well. The exit was close.
But not close enough.
A sudden magical explosion struck the wall beside them, and from behind, figures emerged in the shadows. Three cloaked silhouettes—Trent in the lead, dark energy crackling in his hands.
"Well, this is awkward," he said, eyes gleaming. "You weren't supposed to see this until the big show."
Stephen raised a brow. "Trent, I swear if this is about that time I stole your sandwich—"
"Silence!" Trent snapped, firing a bolt of energy that Stephen narrowly dodged.
Daemon stepped forward. "Why are you doing this? You're one of us."
Trent sneered. "Was I? Funny, I never felt like it. Always in the background, always overlooked. Until someone gave me a real chance. Power. Purpose."
Hope stepped beside Daemon. "Who gave you that?"
But Trent only smiled. "You'll meet them soon. If you live that long."
Without warning, his companions attacked.
The battle erupted.
Daemon conjured a wall of shadow to absorb incoming blasts while Raphael, half-shifted, lunged with a growl, knocking one attacker off their feet. Hope flung fire with deadly accuracy, protecting Jessa, who was chanting a binding spell.
Stephen, grinning wildly, clashed with the third enemy, throwing flares and shouting, "Taste my sparkles of death, villain!"
London stood frozen for a moment—watching the chaos unfold.
Then, as one of the cloaked attackers turned toward Hope with a bolt of searing red lightning, something inside him ignited.
"NO!"
He threw himself in front of Hope.
The blast hit him square in the chest.
There was silence.
Then fire.
London's body erupted into brilliant golden flames, consuming him in an instant. Hope screamed his name, trying to reach for him, but Daemon held her back, shielding her from the heat.
Raphael lunged at the attacker in fury, sending them flying across the stone floor.
Hope dropped to her knees. "No… no, not again…"
But even as the fire died down, the ashes stirred.
A golden glow pulsed from the center, and slowly, a figure began to rise from the soot—naked, hair tousled, eyes glowing like suns.
London.
Again.
Alive.
Stephen, who had just finished stunning his opponent, turned and whistled. "Okay, this is officially your second most dramatic resurrection today. You're gonna need so many towels, man."
Hope rushed to him, wrapping him in her cloak. "You idiot," she whispered, voice cracking. "You're not allowed to die. Not again."
London smiled faintly. "Guess I'm bad at staying dead."
Jessa's binding spell wrapped around the last of the enemies. Raphael panted, blood on his lip but victorious. Daemon slowly lowered his shield, scanning the area.
The battle was over.
For now.
---
Later, in one of the school's hidden rest chambers, the group gathered around a flickering hearth. Raphael was patching a cut on his arm. Daemon stood in the corner, arms crossed, watching the door like a hawk.
Hope and London sat close, her hand resting lightly on his.
"Do you remember anything this time?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Only the fire. But it doesn't scare me anymore. I think… it's part of me."
"You saved me."
"You've saved me more times than I can count," he said softly. "I just returned the favor."
Stephen came strolling in, hair messy, a cookie in hand. "Okay, first of all—traumatized. Secondly, I demand we form a club. 'People Who Have Witnessed London's Naked Rebirth.'"
"No," Daemon said flatly.
"Yes," Stephen said cheerfully. "I'm already designing the T-shirts."
Everyone actually laughed—tired, hurting, but alive.
Then Jessa's sister entered, her eyes wide with panic.
"Guys," she said breathlessly, "we found something."
Everyone stiffened.
She held up a small magical map, glowing and trembling in her hands. One dot blinked red—deep in the forest. It was labeled RICHARD.
"He's alive," she whispered. "But something's wrong."
Hope stood immediately.
London rose with her.
Daemon nodded grimly. "Then we're going to find him."