Chapter 51: Time has Come: Part XI
The air on the other side of the portal shimmered with a different kind of pressure. It was social. Prestige. Politics. Power.
Annabella was instantly surrounded, friends, courtiers, admirers in polished robes. They laughed too loudly at her every word, their eyes darting shamelessly lustful at her body.
She smiled back politely, poised as ever, but didn't look back.
Not once.
Rea stood there just a heartbeat longer.
Then she turned and walked.
She didn't belong in that crowd. She never had.
She moved across the courtyard in silence,
Then she saw them.
Killian, Issey, Kaizel, and Raizel were sitting near a crumbling stone column in the shaded corner of the assembly grounds. They looked... wrecked.
Killian had a cut above his eye, his shirt stained and rumpled. Raizel was pale, a faint shimmer of healing tonic still clinging to his collar. Kaizel's quiet eyes held a darker weight. Issey... Issey couldn't even lift her head.
"Rea," Killian said, wincing as he stood straighter.
Kaizel bowed his head. "We're sorry. We should've told you sooner."
Issey wouldn't meet her eyes. "We failed you."
Rea frowned, her voice low. "What happened?"
Killian looked at the others, then spoke. "The prank on Harry—it worked at first. He panicked, ran around trying to cover it up. But he must've figured it out, because…"
He touched the healing cut on his brow. "He ambushed us. Brought muscle.
Rea's expression darkened. "He what?"
Raizel, ever calm, said, "He didn't want a confession. He wasn't gonna let anything go."
Killian added bitterly, "He was looking for blood."
Kaizel's quiet voice came next. "When we wouldn't talk, he turned to us. Me and Raizel. and drew a blade."
Issey finally raised her head, eyes red. "Killian cracked. He said it was you. That you were seen with Annabella. Please forgive us. We fucked up."
"Rea, please," Killian said. "We didn't want to betray you. But we had no choice."
Rea froze. Her lips parted slightly, her fingers twitching at her side. But her voice, when it came, was painfully soft.
"I'm not angry you told him."
They blinked.
"I'm angry," she continued, "that he laid a hand on any of you."
She walked forward.
She opened the pouch George had given her and retrieved a thin, rune-etched strip of black leather. Four healing runes pulsed in faint blue light.
"George gave this to me. Said I'd know what to do with it." Her gaze flicked to their injuries. "Guess he always knows when I'm about to get punched in the heart."
One by one, she placed a rune in each of their palms.
"Let this help, even if it's just a bit," she said. "And… I'm sorry."
Kaizel blinked. "You're apologizing to us?"
"You were dragged into something that started with me," Rea said quietly. "I never meant for any of you to pay for it."
Killian shook his head. "You don't get it. It's because it's you that we didn't care. We just... we didn't expect him to go that far."
Rea's jaw tightened. "He's obsessed. With her. He always has been. If he thinks I'm standing between them…"
He will come for you," Issey said calmly.
Rea met her eyes. "Let him."
On the northern hall,
Arthur passed by, still adjusting the cuffs on his tunic, when Harry suddenly grabbed his arm and hissed, "I need to talk to you."
Arthur yanked free. "Now? We leave in an hour."
"This is important." Harry's voice was low, urgent.
Arthur rolled his eyes and kept walking. "You mean the meeting I intentionally missed? Spare me."
Harry followed him. "You don't understand. Things are going to change, Arthur. You need to know what's coming."
Arthur whirled on him. "What is it you think father knows? That man doesn't care about anything but legacy and obedience. Grow a backbone, Harry. Stop sniffing for scraps of his approval."
Harry's face twisted. "He cares about us. Everything he's doing—"
"He's doing for himself!" Arthur snapped. "Don't you get it? The man lies like he breathes."
But Harry didn't stop. When they were far enough from the path and alone beneath the shade of the courtyard, Arthur sighed and sat on the edge of the stone bench. "Fine. Spill it."
Harry glanced around once, then leaned in. "Father told me the truth about Rea."
Arthur scoffed. "That is getting old? So what if she is grandpa's favourite pet"
"No. Not just that. He told me… who she really is."
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"She's... our sister."
The silence that followed was so heavy it almost rang.
Arthur blinked… then laughed once, harshly. "Life mages don't birth Death Mages, Harry. Especially not our family. That's a biological impossibility. Our bloodline's unions with Death Mages were sterile. That's been true since the Concordance."
"I said the same thing," Harry muttered. "But it doesn't change what he said. Rea is both. Life and Death. A hybrid."
Arthur stood slowly. "How?"
"An abomination," Harry whispered. "That's what she is."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "That's your takeaway? That she's an abomination?"
"If people find out she came from our lineage," Harry pressed, "we're finished. The school. The house. Our future. It will all unravel."
Arthur stepped forward, grabbed Harry by the collar. "Our future? He lied to us our entire lives! He told us our sister was dead. And now you stand here worrying about reputation?"
"She's not just a mistake," Harry growled. "She's a threat. A threat that should have been dealt with before it grew teeth."
Arthur stared at him. "You mean… he wants to kill her."
Harry pushed him back. "He intends to. And if you're not going to help, then stay out of the way."
Arthur's breath caught. "You'd… go along with that?"
Harry smoothed his collar and glared at him. "You've always been too soft. Too drunk on idealism to see what's needed. She is a walking scandal, and our house hangs in the balance."
Harry turned his back to him. " Father is waiting for us. He will brief us on the way ahead"
Arthur stood motionless as Harry walked away.
He thought of Rea.
And then he thought of Annabella…
"Hell," he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. "This day can't get weirder!!"
Back in the Great Hall's garden,
The walls, lined with ancient banners of House Winstor above all others, seemed so regal and overwhelming.
Charles stood with his hands clasped behind his back, posture straight as iron. He stared out toward the courtyards, voice calm but edged with menace. "Today marks the turning point," he said, not turning. "No more indulgences. No more tolerance for loose ends."
Arthur stood near the hearth, hands twitching at his sides. Across from him, Harry shifted, gaze flicking between his father and older brother.
"You both understand what is expected," Charles continued. "This final exam is not just a trial of magic. It is a crucible. The world is watching. House Winstor is watching."
He finally turned, gaze sharp as a drawn blade. "Reagan Stone must not return from this."
Arthur inhaled sharply, but said nothing.
Charles stepped forward, facing Arthur directly. "You are my heir. You are the future of this house. Do not fail me."
Arthur flinched at the weight of the words but gave a short, stiff nod.
Then Charles turned to Harry.
"You were born to serve your brother."
Harry didn't blink. He had heard it too many times.
"You are not to waver. You protect him. You make sure everything proceeds according to plan. Arthur's destiny must be secured. If Reagan survives this, all of our work unravels."
Arthur glanced sideways at Harry, jaw tight. But it was Charles who locked eyes with him again, voice dropping to a harsh whisper.
"She is a threat to the balance. An anomaly that never should have existed. A bastard raised in the home of kings. If the people knew the truth of her origin…"
He trailed off, then straightened.
"This ends today. One way or another."
There was a long silence.
Then Arthur said quietly, "And if I don't agree?"
Charles's eyes sharpened. "You're not here to agree. You're here to obey."
Arthur's fists clenched. But he said nothing.
Harry stepped forward, shoulders squared. "We'll do what must be done."
Charles nodded once.
"Good."
And with that, the meeting ended.
But the weight of the command lingered like smoke in their lungs.
Back at the courtyard,
The Council of Mages stood in a solemn arc—robes gleaming, insignias heavy with history.
At their center, on one side stood George Winstor, tall and unshakable. On the other side was Devorak, looking deadly and ready to enjoy the bloodbath.
The wind stirred banners high above them, bearing the ancient sigils of each House.
The Headmaster of the School of Mages stepped forward and began his speech. His voice was steady, formal, rehearsed.
Then, silence.
George Winstor took one step forward, and the silence deepened into reverence.
"I speak now not only as your elder," he said, his voice echoing across stone, "but as one who has faced these very trials. You step forward as students. You will return either as mages… or not at all. Walk with honor. Choose with clarity. May your magic reflect your heart."
Devorak, not so fond of too many words simply lit the ceremonial torch and declared:" May only the strong survive!"
The Trial Grounds – Hidden Isle
The exam had been brutal but fair. For most.
Rea had already torn through two obstacle sectors.
She stepped into the next zone and it happened.
figures masked in black, eyes that burned with murderous intent. They didn't hesitate. The first strike nearly took her head off.
They weren't students.They were assassins.
Rea dodged, ducked, countered with a wave of her corrupted flame
But the moment she summoned light, one of them threw a vial.
It shattered mid-air, releasing a blinding mist of mirrored dust, a toxin specifically meant to neutralize light magic.
She coughed violently, eyes watering, and cursed under her breath. They knew. They had prepared.
"You're strong," one said mockingly, "If you were any light-user you would have passed out by now. You are indeed your father's daughter."
She staggered to her feet, panting. Her vision flickered. "Cowards," she spat. "I have no father...I am a bastard ...do your homework better"
Rea stood alone, her black sword humming in her hand, breath ragged, her shoulder bleeding from a deep gash. Her clothes were torn, her jaw bruised, but she still stood. Facing her were not students, but masked figures with deliberate footwork, timed coordination.
Assassins.
Harry and Arthur stood high above, behind the illusionary veil cast for overseers.
"She's holding them off," Harry muttered, arms crossed. "For now."
Arthur didn't answer. His jaw was tight.
Harry and Arthur stood high above, behind the illusionary veil cast for overseers.
"She's holding them off," Harry muttered, arms crossed. "For now."
Arthur didn't answer. His jaw was tight.
Rea twisted to the side, flung a Malvolius curse in one direction, then flicked her wrist, letting light bloom from her palm in another. The flash stunned one of them, barely. They knew what to expect. Her duality wasn't a surprise to them.
Arthur's brows knitted.
He watched her, fighting with light and death like two warring elements locked in the same soul. It was… familiar.
Too familiar.
She fought like someone who shouldn't exist.
Then he said it, low and hoarse:"She looks like her."
Harry didn't move.
Arthur turned to him. "Don't pretend you haven't noticed it. The stance. The stubbornness. Even the temper. It's her."
"She's nothing like our mother."
Arthur's voice cracked. "She is."
Below, Rea fell to one knee, a strike hitting her across the back. Her sword clanged against stone. One assassin raised a glowing dagger, poised for the final blow.
Arthur's chest seized.
He looked down at his own hands—the ones that had hit her, mocked her, resented her.
"I picked on her because she was always so much like mother… because I saw her strength and I didn't know what to do with it. I thought she was a curse." He clenched his fists. "But she's not."
"She's dangerous," Harry said coldly. "If she lives, everything father built could fall."
"And if she dies," Arthur said, stepping toward the edge, "we become monsters."
Then he jumped.
Wind whipped past his ears as he descended, magic igniting in his blood. The assassins turned at the sound of impact, only for a burst of light to explode outward from Arthur's whole body, knocking them all back.
He crouched in front of Rea, shielding her with his body.
"...What the hell are you doing?" she gasped.
Arthur glanced over his shoulder, breathing hard. "Saving your ass."
Rea blinked, stunned. "You're.."
"Yeah. Shut up and let me have my hero moment."
She half-laughed, blood trickling from her mouth.
The assassins reassembled now facing two proficient fighters instead of one.
Arthur lit his hands with pure radiant force, eyes glowing like the northern lights.
"Get on your feet," he said, "let's clean up this mess."
Rea, smirking through the pain, pulled her black blade to her lap and charged it again with blue flames.
After a while,
All around Them, bodies of trained assassins lay in the dust, some charred, some frozen in agonized final moments.
Arthur stood a few paces behind, his coat torn, his knuckles bloodied, a long gash across his brow. But he was smiling
One assassin still groaned, crumpled near a rock, unconscious but breathing.
Rea raised her hand, ready to end it.
Arthur lifted a palm. "Wait!" he called, limping toward her. "Don't kill him, Rea."
Her fingers twitched.
"We need someone alive to talk," Arthur said, offering her a crooked smile. His voice was hoarse. "We just bought ourselves a chance to expose My....—"
Shhkt.
The sound was so quick, so clean, it barely registered.
Arthur blinked.
Rea's eyes widened in horror as a blade burst from Arthur's chest.
Behind him stood Harry.
Silent.
Expressionless.
His hand twisted the hilt, just once.
Arthur gasped, blood rising in his mouth. He staggered forward toward Rea, eyes wide and full of confusion.
"Wha.…?" he choked.
Arthur collapsed into Rea's arms; the blade still lodged in his back. She caught him just in time, her knees buckling with the weight of both his body and the betrayal.
Rea looked up, fury erupting in her chest. "You bastard. He is your brother."
Harry slowly lowered his hand. His voice was icy " No loose ends...He failed one...last...time"
Rea's arm trembled as she cradled Arthur's head. His eyes fluttered, trying to focus. "Rea…" he whispered, "Don't… let them…"
"Shh," she said quickly, pressing her hand over the wound. "Don't speak."
She tried to summon light, but it flickered. Her panic made it unstable. Her strength was nearly gone.
Harry stepped closer trying to finish is deed but was alerted when he felt is energy barrier broken, most likely by the exam inspectors coming to check what was the commotion.
"Well I guess if I don't end this, at least the inspectors will deal with you when they see him dead in your arms. Not the original plan but will work out just fine"
"I will tell them...you did it" Rea's voice cracked with rage.
Harry then grabbed the last surviving assassin and teleported away as he lastly said:" You can always try... Murderer"
Arthur and Rea were left behind, then Arthur coughed. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. But he clutched Rea's hand and whispered, "He can't… have the last word. You have to get away. They will kill you first and make assumptions later. Run...Run".
Then Rea said: "I said I would get you help and THAT IS WHAT I WILL DO!"
Suddenly, everything exploded into ray of light and dark force. Rea's eyes turned different. One shone as the northlights and the others was dark with silver irises.
They vanished in thin air.