They ran.
But Greystone House moved with them.
Corridors that should have led forward narrowed instead, bending just enough to slow them. Doors sealed a heartbeat before they reached them. Wards flared to life along the walls, adjusting, tightening—as if tracking their movement.
This wasn't containment anymore.
It was a hunt.
"They've sealed the northern corridor!" Talwyn shouted, pulling Lina with him as the ceiling groaned above.
Stone cracked.
A beam gave way.
Talwyn didn't think. Heat burst from him in a sharp, uneven flare, the air distorting as the falling debris struck it and shattered just enough to miss them. Fragments slammed into the floor around them instead of through them.
He exhaled hard, unsteady. "Move."
They did.
Caelum pushed forward, his mind cutting through exhaustion, mapping routes that no longer stayed still long enough to trust. Every turn closed behind them. Every step narrowed their options.
They had planned for pursuit.
They had not planned for Rosier. The man had come for them personally.
"We have to go down," Caelum said.
"No," Julian snapped, breath uneven. "That's exactly where they want us—"
A crash cut him off.
Two enforcers rounded the corner behind them, robes snapping in perfect synchronization. Their wands were already raised.
They fired.
"Down!"
A stunner tore through the space where Julian had been—
"[Miss]."
The word slipped from him, strained and wrong.
The spell wavered.
Not enough to stop it. Just enough to shift its path, striking the wall instead of flesh.
Julian staggered, but Caelum was already moving.
He turned mid-stride, wand flicking toward the overhead pipework. Metal split. Steam exploded into the corridor, flooding it in blinding white.
A shriek tore through the haze.
One of the enforcers staggered straight into the blast—skin searing, grip breaking as the pressure hit him full-force. He went down hard, crashing against the stone and not getting back up.
The second hesitated—just for a fraction of a second.
Caelum saw it.
He doubled back without hesitation, dropping low and ripping the wand from the man's grip before he could recover.
"Talwyn—catch!"
Talwyn caught the wand mid-run and fired a defensive jinx behind them.
It wasn't much. But now they had two wands.
A small, minuscule edge.
…
They burst into an old processing chamber and collapsed into cover.
The room was dead—rusted terminals, broken cabinets, dust thick in the air. No wards. No surveillance. Just a forgotten space.
The Grey Circle scattered into what little cover they could find. Lina was pale, blood on her lips. Julian slumped against a wall. Talwyn's sleeve was torn, his arm scorched from overusing his power.
Caelum remained standing. Barely. Wand in hand, breaths shallow.
For a moment, no one spoke.
The silence stretched—
Then the door behind them hissed.
Rosier stepped through.
No armor. No entourage. Just a long, dark coat, soot-smeared at the hems. His presence quiet but commanding. A man who belonged here—in shadows, in control.
"Caelum Sanguine," he said smoothly. "Not quite the reunion I imagined."
He walked slowly, eyes scanning the ruin around him. "You've burned through years of my work. Wasted excellent resources. And upset the careful equilibrium of this entire facility."
Caelum stepped forward, shielding the others with his body.
"You turned this place into a slaughterhouse," he spat.
Rosier's lips curled faintly. "It's just business. Nothing more."
Then his wand flicked.
The air exploded.
…
The enforcers surged in from behind him. Spells flew in tight arcs—silent, efficient.
Caelum deflected the first by instinct alone. Talwyn raised a shield beside him, the second wand shaking in his grip as the barrier flared unevenly but held.
Julian dragged Lina back—
A flash.
"[Stop—"
The word broke in his throat, twisting wrong as it left him.
For a fraction of a second, the incoming spell faltered.
Then it punched through anyway.
The red bolt struck him square in the chest.
Julian hit the ground hard.
"Julian!" Talwyn's voice cracked.
Caelum's eyes went wide. For a heartbeat, everything stopped—sound swallowed by the roar in his ears.
'No. Not like this'.
He fumbled at his belt, fingers unsteady, and tore free a small flask—the second container of blood taken earlier.
Then he drank.
…
The blood hit like fire.
It burned through him, igniting something deeper than muscle or bone. Thought sharpened instantly—patterns unfolding, movements aligning, knowledge snapping into place with brutal clarity.
And beneath it—
the hunger answered.
He forced it down, tightening his control with deliberate focus, refusing to let the hunger take root any further.
What he needed now wasn't that.
'I need fire—hot enough to burn through everything in my way'
And the flame answered.
…
"Luxardent"
Wild fire spilled from his hand—silent, writhing, alive.
White fire bloomed in his palm—clean, precise, contained—and everything around it reacted.
The scattered flames from earlier spells twisted toward it, bending unnaturally, drawn inward as if recognizing something greater. Heat warped the air in rippling layers, the chamber itself distorting under the pressure of it.
Caelum moved fast.
One enforcer vanished in a silent eruption of light. Another staggered back, cloak igniting as controlled fire traced along the ground toward him.
Rosier's wand raised—he parried one flame with a twisted deflection charm, the heat singing his coat. His face contorted with something close to surprise.
"Impossible, he's already at this stage" he hissed.
Caelum didn't answer. He drove forward instead, gathering what remained of his strength and forcing it into a single, decisive release.
'Engulf them'.
The fire answered without hesitation.
It surged outward in a torrent—violent, consuming, no longer restrained to careful shapes or measured control. The chamber groaned under the strain as heat pressed into stone, blistering the walls and splitting the floor beneath their feet. The remaining agents faltered, driven back as waves of searing force rolled over them, breaking whatever formation they had left.
Rosier tried to counter—
"Reducto!"
But it was too late. The blast struck him full-on, sending him spinning through the air. His left arm twisted unnaturally, charred and smoking as he slammed into the wall with a shriek of agony.
Caelum took one more step forward—but then crumpled to one knee, gasping.
His body refused to move. The magic had taken everything.
Across the room, Rosier slumped to the ground, unconscious.
Silence followed. The remaining enforcers stood stunned, their formation broken. None dared move. The chamber, scorched and crumbling, held its breath.
…
The chamber stilled.
And then—boots.
Heavy, deliberate. Amidst that the sound of uneven footsteps—a wooden clunk followed by a metallic stomp, pacing closer with grim intent.
Clunk. Thud. Clunk. Thud.
The rhythm was unmistakable.
A familiar growl followed:
"Hell's teeth, kid—what've you done now?"
Alastor Moody stood in the ruined doorway, wand raised, eyes burning with battle-readiness.
Behind him, a squad of Aurors surged in, spells ready.
Greystone had finally been breached.