Celeste's POV
I made Damien and Theo hide the bodies.
Not my proudest moment, but what else was I supposed to do? Call the police? Explain that three assassins broke into my magic shop and killed themselves with poison? Yeah, that would go well.
"This is insane," Theo muttered, helping Damien wrap the last corpse in a tarp. "We should report this. There are laws—"
"Human laws don't apply here." Damien's voice was flat. He moved like someone used to handling dead bodies, which should have scared me more than it did. "The Arcane Council will deal with this."
"The same Council that maybe killed my mother?" I shot back.
Damien's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue.
Outside, Adrian's shadow had disappeared. But I knew he was still watching. Still waiting. The witch hunter who should have killed me years ago but couldn't pull the trigger.
Three men circling my life like sharks. And Vivienne's text message burning in my mind: Let the trials begin.
"I'm opening the shop today," I announced.
Both men stared at me like I'd grown a second head.
"Are you crazy?" Theo dropped the tarp. "Someone just tried to kill you. You're coughing up blood. You need to rest—"
"I need to act normal." I walked toward the storage room, stepping over the spot where the bodies had been. My legs felt shaky, but I forced them to hold me up. "If I close the shop, everyone will know something's wrong. They'll start asking questions. And I can't afford that right now."
"Celeste—"
"He's right." Damien cut off Theo's protest. "The magical community is watching her. Any sign of weakness, and the vultures will circle. She has to appear strong."
"She's dying!" Theo's voice cracked with emotion. "Strong doesn't matter if she's dead!"
"Which is exactly why I need to find my soulmate before time runs out." I turned to face them both. "So here's what's going to happen. Damien, make those bodies disappear. Theo, go to work—you have patients who need you. And I'm going to open my shop and pretend last night never happened."
"And what about the witch hunter stalking you from the shadows?" Damien asked quietly.
"Adrian won't hurt me." I said it with more confidence than I felt.
"How do you know?"
Because he'd had three years to kill me and hadn't done it. Because sometimes I caught him watching me with an expression that looked like pain. Because my magic recognized something in him, something that felt almost like—
"I just know."
Theo grabbed my hand. His touch was warm, human, normal in a world that had gone completely crazy. "Please be careful. I can't lose you."
Something in my chest twisted. Theo had been my friend for two years, ever since the night I saved his hospital from a demon attack. He brought me coffee every week, made terrible jokes, and looked at me like I was someone worth saving instead of a walking disaster.
"I'll be fine," I lied.
He didn't believe me. I could see it in his eyes.
The shop opened at nine. By nine-thirty, it was packed.
News traveled fast in the magical district. Everyone had heard about the disturbance at my shop last night—the explosion of power, the purple light, the screaming. They came to see if the great Celeste Thorne was finally cracking.
I smiled and sold them potions. Answered questions about protection spells. Pretended my hands weren't shaking every time I touched my magic.
It felt like fire in my veins. Hotter than yesterday. Brighter. More desperate.
One hundred seventy-nine days left.
"Miss Thorne?" A small voice broke through my thoughts.
I looked down. A girl, maybe thirteen, stood at the counter. Her eyes were red from crying, and her hands were wrapped in bandages that glowed with sickly green light.
"I need help," she whispered. "My spell went wrong. It's eating through my skin, and my mom can't afford a real healer, and everyone says you're the only one powerful enough to—"
"Let me see." I was already moving around the counter, my own problems forgotten.
The girl unwrapped her bandages. Underneath, her hands looked like they were rotting from the inside. Dark magic, twisted and angry, was devouring her flesh inch by inch.
My stomach dropped. This was bad. Really bad.
"How long ago?" I asked.
"Three days." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "I was trying to help my little brother. He was sick, and I thought I could heal him, but the spell backfired—"
"It's okay." I took her hands gently, ignoring the way the dark magic tried to bite at my fingers. "I can fix this."
The shop had gone quiet. Everyone was watching.
I should have sent her to a real healer. Should have called the Council. Should have done anything except use my own dying magic to save her.
But she was thirteen and scared and in pain.
Just like I'd been when Mom died.
I closed my eyes and let my magic flow.
Silver light exploded from my hands, pouring into the girl's corrupted spell. My power ripped the dark magic apart, unraveling it thread by thread, burning it away until only clean, healthy skin remained.
The girl gasped. "It's gone! You fixed it! Thank you, thank you—"
Then the world tilted sideways.
My magic didn't stop. It kept pouring out of me in waves, uncontrolled and wild. Silver light filled the shop, so bright people started screaming. I tried to pull it back, tried to stop, but my body wouldn't listen.
Blood dripped from my nose. Hot and silver and wrong.
"Miss Thorne?" The girl's voice sounded far away.
My knees hit the floor hard. Pain shot through me, but it was nothing compared to the fire in my chest. My magic was burning me alive from the inside, consuming me, killing me—
More blood. My handkerchief was already soaked. It splattered on the floor in silver drops that glowed like dying stars.
The shop erupted in chaos. People shouting. Running. The most powerful witch in New England was dying in front of them, and they were terrified.
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The silver light was everywhere, exploding from my hands in wild bursts that shattered bottles and cracked windows.
This was it. This was how I died. Alone on the floor of my shop, just like Mom.
The door crashed open.
Through my blurry vision, I saw a figure in black moving impossibly fast. Strong arms caught me before I hit the ground completely. A hand pressed against my chest, and suddenly the fire in my veins started to cool.
The magic listened to his touch. Calmed. Settled.
I looked up into Adrian Blackwell's face.
The witch hunter was holding me like I was something precious instead of something he was supposed to destroy. His gray eyes were full of an emotion I couldn't name, and his touch was so gentle it made my heart ache.
"I've got you," he said quietly. "You're safe."
The crowd gasped. Someone screamed. Because everyone in the magical district knew what Adrian Blackwell was.
And everyone just watched him save my life instead of taking it.
Adrian lifted me easily, cradling me against his chest like I weighed nothing. He turned toward the stairs that led to my apartment above the shop.
"Move," he ordered the crowd.
They scattered like leaves.
As Adrian carried me past the shocked faces, past the whispers and the stares, I saw Damien standing in the doorway. His expression was dark and dangerous.
And behind him, Theo was running up the street, his doctor's bag in hand, his face white with terror.
Three men. All converging on my dying body.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I didn't need to check it to know what it said.
Vivienne was watching. Counting. Waiting.
The last thing I saw before everything went black was Adrian's face above me, and the impossible gentleness in his killer's eyes.
"Don't leave me," he whispered.
And I realized with shocking clarity that the witch hunter who was supposed to end my life might actually be the one trying to save it.