It broke my heart seeing Katherine so devastated, knowing I’d failed so horribly. Even as the last fragments of magic holdingmy manifested form together crumbled away, I couldn’t shake free from the guilt that followed me back to my core self.
I stood beside Wadsworth, connecting with these new memories and seeing how much had unfolded after sending a manifestation to the Whitlock Estate. If I’d gone there myself, perhaps it would’ve made a difference. Instead, I flew to Milo’s side, watching Wadsworth work while there wasn’t a goddamn thing for me to do here.
Even now, they loaded Milo into an ambulance, and I stood by uselessly.
I should’ve gone to the Whitlocks myself. Sending a manifestation was so fucking stupid. Now Tara and Caleb were captured. Amara had all the pieces she wanted. Her goddess, her knight, and her sacrifice.
Composing myself as best I could, I informed the nearby Global Guild reps about the incident at the Whitlock Estate, sending them to retrieve Katherine, and hopefully any possible clues on a lead. Then I flew to the hospital where they’d taken Milo and the top ten Global Guild members, now that that battle had finally concluded with all the devils being exorcised.
As the dust settled, the city had survived, but at what cost? Pain and devastation radiated throughout Chicago, minds suffering with the anguish of loss, of death. The Celestial Coven came in full force and nearly destroyed us, yet their only goal was to grab Tara. They’d laid waste to our guilds and defeated the top ten witches of America with ease.
I had no idea what came next, but I wasn’t ready for it. I had to be ready. There were too many lives at stake for me to fail again.
Thecity mourned in a way I’d never experienced. Grief had a stranglehold on so many minds, it locked me in their sorrow. I found myself spiraling, every breath a reminder of the sadness I fought after losing Finn.
After the Celestial Coven’s attack, no one felt safe any longer. They’d struck with a handful of witches, several enthralled demons, and a horde of fiends. Chicago braced for the next assault, unsure how we’d fare a second time.
Thirty-eight enchanters had laid down their lives defending this city. Four guild masters died protecting their people. The minds of Cerberus cried out, devastated by Campbell’s loss. A strict woman, certainly, but one who’d earned the respect of her enchanters but refused to settle, to compromise, to accept defeat. She died victorious, even if she never saw the end of that battle.
I spent my days at the hospital during Milo’s recovery. Wadsworth’s magic had worked wonders to prevent long-term nerve damage or the need for surgery, but Milo’s injuries still required intensive care.
He grieved the most during these somber days. This wasno victory; his battle held no successes in his mind. Protecting the city from ten devils didn’t matter to him because knowing so many others died defending Chicago meant he’d failed elsewhere. Milo burdened himself with planning for the best possible outcomes, yet this battle had turned into an absolute failure.
Death at every corner. Tara and Caleb abducted. Amara one step closer to unveiling her world-shattering plan.
Grief consumed me from everywhere during these first few days. I clung to the saddest minds, the familiar minds, the minds of those I cared for the most. If I had to suffer this sadness, I would at least know how they fared.
Kenzo’s rage was unbridled. All his rage went into a punching bag, enhanced by protective wards so the thing wouldn’t break when struck with telekinesis or branch magics. The soothing aura of Gael’s presence did nothing to elevate the hatred in Kenzo’s heart. Day in and day out, Kenzo trained, planned, calculated, and thought back to every mistake he’d made.
Success? He saw none.
Unlocking a new aspect of his branch meant nothing because he couldn’t control it. More to the point, he couldn’t bask in this achievement knowing that he’d failed Caleb. He didn’t know why they’d abducted his best friend; he only knew that Caleb was gone.
Every time Kenzo struck the punching bag, his thoughts fluttered back to something mean he’d said to Caleb. All he could remember was years of cruel teasing, heartless words, andbullying he’d never make amends for now. Kenzo grieved inside, sad and broken, but on the outside, he raged.
Gray static sizzled along the punching bag’s protective wards, keeping the training tool intact.
“Goddammit.” Kenzo spun through the air and kicked the punching bag with enough force to snap the tether holding it in place.
That hadn’t been his goal. No, his goal was to use his black hex magic to completely disarm the punching bag. Then he’d use his white hex magic to amplify his magic and destroy the training tool.
Kenzo believed he couldn’t do a single thing right. He panted, weary and exhausted, but refusing to stop. Only failures rested. Kenzo had spent enough time being a failure.
I believed a great deal of his newfound enhancement to his magic came from an emotional drive. His need to protect Gael sparked the release of hex magic to its greatest form. Now, instead of embracing his emotions, he worked to bury them, leaving only room for rage and self-hatred.
After things settled, calmed as best they could, I would reach out to Kenzo and help him train. I owed him that much. After all, so much of this failure rested on my shoulders. I should’ve stopped Amara when she attacked Gemini Academy. I should’ve tracked her down over the last few months and ended her. I should’ve been prepared for her assault on Chicago.
Kenzo didn’t need to blame himself for Caleb’s abduction. That blame fell to me.
Guilt consumed Yaritza over the last few days. Kraken Guild had been attacked by a few demons and so many fiends when the Celestial Coven struck. What had seemed like a truly devastating attack in the moment had turned out to be one of the lighter assaults.
Yaritza, Jamius, and Melanie had managed to take out a demon on their own. An ogre thrashing about the halls of Kraken. While their mentor raged against a demon of his own, they defended their enchanters back, and successfully did what so few could accomplish.
It should’ve been something for Yaritza to bask in, to brag about, but as the city mourned, her success felt ill-timed. It hurt to look back at the incident with pride, to see her role in it diminished because of the ultimate outcome.
She wasn’t the only mind to feel this way. And she should’ve been proud of her accomplishments. While the city still suffered, it suffered less because of her success. I hoped she’d see that in time, understand that, and take pride in her accomplishment.
Wadsworth didn’t give a damn about the devastating defeat. All he concerned himself with was tracking down The True Witch, following any lead, no matter how small. As he sucked a deep inhale of his cigarette, I found myself entranced by the aroma.
