The Chronicles of Blood and Fire (HP Fanfic)

Chapter 23: Chapter 22: Shadows and Resolve



Silence followed the fire.

The scorched corridor stank of ash, magic, and blood. Dust hung in the air, lit faintly by the dying light from the broken wall sconces. No footsteps echoed now. No more spells crackled.

The masked agent's body lay in the center, unmoving. Crumpled. Defeated.

Julian groaned from where he'd landed, cradling his ribs. Talwyn sat slumped against the wall, blood seeping through the torn fabric around his arm. Mara staggered toward Lina, who was pale and shaking but conscious.

Caelum didn't speak.

He was still standing—barely—his body screaming, his muscles locked between pain and something deeper. Fire still curled faintly along his fingertips, but he didn't let it go yet. Not until he was sure.

He turned to the others.

"We can't stay here."

Mara looked up. "We're in no shape to move."

"We don't have a choice," Caelum said flatly. "There could be more coming."

Everyone knew he was right.

A tense beat passed. Then Talwyn nodded grimly. "There's an old storeroom two levels down. Not warded anymore. No patrols. No enchantment lights."

"Perfect," Caelum said. "We'll regroup there."

"But we need help," Julian said through clenched teeth. "We can't keep going like this."

"I know." Caelum's eyes turned to Mara. "You'll go."

Mara blinked. "What?"

"Someone has to. You're the least injured, and you're fast."

"Go where? The Ministry?" she asked.

Caelum's expression hardened. "No. Too dangerous. Rosier has people there. Maybe not many, but enough. Don't risk it."

Mara hesitated. "Then who?"

Caelum's voice lowered. "Go to St. Mungo's. Ask for Healer Mirren. Tell her it's about Caelum Sanguine, and that it's urgent. Ask her to contact Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt. No one else."

Mara stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. "All right."

Caelum looked down at the scorched wand still clutched in his hand.

He crossed the corridor, stopping beside the agent's fallen form.

The body lay smoking, the mask cracked and half-melted, the robes still faintly glowing from residual magic. He stared at it—silent—until the air seemed to hum.

Caelum crouched slowly and reached for the agent's wand.

"I'll keep this one," he said, glancing at Mara. "Take the other. You'll need it."

Mara took it hesitantly.

Caelum remained kneeling beside the corpse for a moment longer.

The blood was still fresh. Pooled against the stone. Dark, viscous, and different—alive with magic. Not synthetic. Not rationed.

Real.

The kind that whispered to him.

He spotted a cracked container nearby—something the agent had dropped, maybe a potion bottle or field kit. Without a word, he picked it up, dipped it into the blood, and sealed it.

The others watched in stunned silence.

Then Caelum lifted the vial to his lips.

"Caelum…" Lina's voice was barely above a whisper.

But he didn't stop.

"There's no room for hesitation right now."

He drank.

The blood was warm. Burning. It tasted like spellwork, like memories locked in marrow. Like a thousand doors slamming open at once inside his skull. It struck him with force—not pain, but depth.

Vision swam.

Magic roared in his veins.

And somewhere deep inside him, the fire stirred—not wild, not violent.

Controlled.

When he opened his eyes again, they glowed faintly with gold—flecks of light burning in the shadow.


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