The air still held the scent of burning magic as the group stood in the forest clearing, their faces etched with disbelief and wonder. London sat quietly on a rock, the oversized cloak Jessa had given him draped loosely around his shoulders. His eyes glimmered faintly, reflecting the golden embers that still flickered on the forest floor. He was alive—reborn.
Hope hadn't moved far from his side, still unable to process what had just happened. Her mind raced with questions, but above all, one truth stood tall: London was something else entirely. He wasn't just another student. He wasn't powerless.
He was extraordinary.
Stephen paced back and forth in front of the group, arms animated. "So let me get this straight," he said, pointing at London. "You burst into flames—naked flames, mind you—and come back to life like it's just another Tuesday. You don't remember anything before that?"
London shook his head slowly, rubbing his temples. "I remember being hit… I remember Hope's voice… and then fire. Just fire. It felt warm. Safe."
Raphael narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "You said phoenix. That means he's immortal?"
Daemon crossed his arms. "It's more than that. Phoenixes are bound by ancient magic—some say they're souls that can't be extinguished. They're not supposed to exist anymore. Most records of them are myths."
Hope leaned forward. "So why London? Why now?"
Stephen smirked, unable to help himself. "Because the universe finally decided we needed a flaming hot guy who forgets to wear pants."
Jessa rolled her eyes. "Can you not for five minutes?"
"Nope," Stephen grinned.
The mood was still light, but everyone could feel the tension simmering beneath. Something bigger was at play. London's rebirth couldn't be a coincidence. Not with the strange attack. Not with Richard still missing.
Hope stood. "We need answers. Real ones. We can't just sit around and wait for something else to go wrong."
Daemon nodded. "Agreed. We track the attacker's trail. Whoever—or whatever—it was, left behind more than scorched leaves. There's energy residue. I can feel it."
Raphael turned to London. "Are you okay to move?"
London stood slowly. "I feel… different. Stronger. But yeah, I'm good."
Stephen clapped him on the back. "Atta boy. Let's go hunt down whoever tried to ruin our evening."
The group moved quickly through the forest, following Daemon's lead. Jessa conjured small lights that floated ahead like fireflies, illuminating the twisted shadows between the trees. Hope walked beside London, their fingers brushing occasionally. Neither spoke about the moment they'd shared before he died. Neither spoke about how close they'd come to something more.
Yet, the air between them was thick with it.
"Do you think you were always like this?" Hope asked quietly.
London glanced at her. "I don't know. I used to think I was the only normal one. No powers. No bloodline. Just… me. Maybe that was a lie all along."
"Maybe," she said softly. "Or maybe it's who you are now that matters."
Up ahead, Daemon held up a hand. Everyone froze.
"There," he said, pointing to a stone partially buried beneath a tangle of roots. It pulsed with a dark, unnatural glow.
"What is it?" Jessa whispered.
"A marker," Daemon replied. "Witches use them to channel and hide portals. Someone left this here intentionally. They came from somewhere… or they were headed to somewhere."
Raphael growled. "Set it off. Let's see what they're hiding."
Hope stepped forward, her palm glowing. She pressed it against the stone, and the roots slithered away like snakes. The stone sank, and with a crackling burst of energy, a portal opened—swirling green and black mist pouring from its center.
Stephen whistled. "Well, that's ominous."
Daemon scanned it with narrowed eyes. "It leads underground. Probably a hidden tunnel system beneath the school."
Hope's heart sank. "They were inside our walls the whole time."
London took a step forward, eyes hard. "Then we go in."
Jessa hesitated. "Shouldn't we tell someone? The staff? The headmistress?"
"No," Daemon said firmly. "If whoever is behind this has people on the inside, we can't risk alerting them. We go in. Just us."
Hope nodded, her voice steady. "Let's finish what they started."
One by one, they stepped into the portal.
---
They emerged into darkness.
The tunnel was wide, the walls carved out of damp stone and lined with eerie blue torches that flickered to life as they passed. The air was thick with magic—old and cold and full of secrets.
Stephen shivered. "Okay, this is officially the worst field trip ever."
Hope led the way with London beside her. As they turned a corner, they heard voices ahead—low, muttering, unmistakably human.
Daemon signaled for silence. They moved slowly, creeping up to the edge of the passage.
Through a small break in the stone, they saw two robed figures standing before a large map. The walls were covered in glowing symbols. There were red markings circling key areas of the school.
"They're planning something," Raphael murmured. "An attack. A big one."
Hope narrowed her eyes. One of the figures turned—and her breath caught.
It was Trent.
One of their classmates.
Quiet. Average. Invisible.
He was laughing with the other figure, pointing at a mark that glowed with Hope's name.
Stephen whispered, "Isn't that the guy who always sat behind me in alchemy class?"
Raphael's fists clenched. "He's the traitor?"
Hope swallowed hard. "We have to go back. Tell the others. Prepare."
But before they could move, the stone beneath London's foot shifted with a loud crack.
Trent turned. Their eyes met.
"Run!" Daemon shouted.
The group bolted down the tunnel as magic exploded behind them.
Hope ran harder than she ever had, heart pounding with fear and rage.
They were no longer safe.
And the war had begun.