"Isn't this Sallow?"
The words scraped intermittently from Rookwood's throat, his voice hoarse from screaming.
"Your sister..."
He deliberately paused and stared into Sebastian's eyes.
"Has she recovered?"
Sebastian's pupils abruptly contracted.
"You know my sister?!"
"Anne?"
Still suffering from the lingering agony of the Cruciatus Curse, Rookwood let out a short laugh.
"I don't merely know her... I'm the one who cursed her!"
Sebastian's entire body trembled violently. He staggered as though someone had struck him hard in the chest.
Then he abruptly raised his wand and aimed it at Rookwood.
Green light flickered at its tip.
"What?" Rookwood's voice suddenly rose. "Go on, then! Kill me!"
He glared at Sebastian, his eyes filled with provocation.
He was gambling.
He was gambling that Sebastian wouldn't dare kill him.
Sebastian needed him. He needed Rookwood to lift Anne's curse. For his sister's sake, he would have to suppress his desire for revenge.
"Tell me how to cure Anne!"
Sebastian's voice finally erupted.
His face flushed crimson, the veins on his forehead bulging as his eyes became bloodshot. He pressed the tip of his wand against Rookwood's forehead as though he might genuinely kill him at any moment.
Rookwood closed his eyes, displaying a firm determination to say nothing more.
He now knew that Sebastian didn't dare kill him.
As long as Anne remained confined to her sickbed, tormented by the curse and growing thinner, weaker, and closer to death with each passing day, Sebastian wouldn't dare touch him.
Sebastian stared at Rookwood's closed eyes, gritting his teeth so hard that they creaked.
His hand slowly lowered.
The wand drooped at his side, its tip pointing toward the ground. The green light gradually dimmed before disappearing entirely.
Rookwood felt the wand leave his forehead.
His grin widened.
He opened his eyes and looked at the frustration filling Sebastian's face.
"That's more like it."
Elias had watched the entire exchange without speaking. He shifted his gaze from Sebastian to Rookwood, lightly stroking his wand with his fingers.
"Take him back," he said.
At that moment, Lynn pulled his wand from the chest of the final Ashwinder.
Every figure dressed in dark red robes had fallen.
Some lay amid the rubble, others rested against the walls, while several had collapsed across the steps. Their positions differed, but they shared one thing in common.
None of them were breathing.
Lynn walked past the bodies, his boots crunching over gravel and debris as he approached Rookwood.
His shadow fell across the man, obscuring most of the face half-hidden behind his arm.
For no apparent reason, Rookwood's heart skipped a beat, as though an invisible hand had lightly squeezed it.
The momentary pause was followed by a sudden acceleration. His heart pounded so violently that it felt ready to burst from his chest.
After a long silence, Lynn finally spoke.
"Do you truly know how to lift the curse?"
His gaze remained fixed on Rookwood, never wavering.
Rookwood's body instantly stiffened.
His thoughts raced.
What should he do?
Admit it? Deny it?
Did he have a solution or not?
Should he tell the truth or fabricate a lie?
Every possibility flashed through his mind, only to be rejected in turn.
In the end, Rookwood steeled himself and closed his eyes once more.
He was gambling again.
He was gambling that Lynn wouldn't dare kill him either.
Like Sebastian, Lynn would be restrained by the need to save Anne and wouldn't dare harm the only person who might know how to cure her.
Rookwood was half right.
Lynn didn't kill him—for the moment.
He raised his wand and aimed its tip at Rookwood's head.
With a slight flick, he forced Rookwood's eyes open and compelled him to look directly at him.
"Legilimens!"
Silvery-white light shot from the tip of Lynn's wand and sank into Rookwood's forehead.
Rookwood's body abruptly stiffened.
His memories surged forth like a tide.
Countless images, sounds, and emotions flooded from Rookwood's mind into Lynn's consciousness.
Images overlapped, sounds blended together, and emotions became hopelessly intertwined. It was like switching on hundreds of television channels simultaneously, turning every volume dial to its maximum, and then throwing away the remote.
Lynn ignored everything irrelevant.
He skipped over the useless fragments and searched directly for memories concerning Anne.
Soon, one image froze within his consciousness.
Victor Rookwood had formed an alliance with Ranrok and begun searching the Scottish Highlands for traces of the Ancient Magic left behind by Isidora Morganach.
They attacked Feldcroft, raiding the village while searching for Isidora's tomb.
When Anne saw the villagers being harmed, her kindness drove her to rush out and help them despite the danger.
Victor Rookwood noticed her.
He raised his wand and aimed its tip at Anne's chest.
A burst of dark red light shot from his wand and sank into Anne's chest.
The memory ended there.
Lynn opened his eyes.
He lowered his wand and returned it to his sleeve before turning toward Elias.
Elias had been waiting. His gaze lingered on Lynn's face for a moment before he spoke.
"Well?" There was a hint of urgency in his voice. "Does he know how to cure Anne?"
Lynn shook his head.
"Kill him. He doesn't even know how to lift the curse himself."
Lynn raised his wand again and aimed it at Rookwood's head. Light began gathering at its tip.
"Remember this in your next life: make sure you're born into a world where mind-reading doesn't exist."
The light at the end of his wand grew brighter as an invisible blade took shape.
He was about to flick his wand and sever Rookwood's head when an explosion erupted beside him.
"BOOM—!!!"
A beam of light shot past Lynn's left side, grazed his arm, and struck Rookwood directly in the head.
Rookwood's head vanished instantly.
The Spell's temperature was so extreme that his skull vaporized the moment the flames touched it, leaving not even a fragment behind.
The stump of his neck had been charred black. No blood flowed from it. The skin surrounding the wound had shriveled and curled beneath the intense heat, sealing the muscles and blood vessels.
Lynn remained in place with his wand still raised.
He slowly turned toward Sebastian.
Sebastian stood several meters away, his wand extended and faint smoke rising from its tip.
Lynn stared at him for two seconds before putting away his wand and walking toward the bodies of the Ashwinders.
It didn't matter who killed Rookwood.
Sebastian cast one Dark Arts Spell after another at the corpse, every attack striking what remained of Rookwood until not even a recognizable body was left.
Only after finishing did Sebastian collapse to the ground, bury his face in his hands, and begin to wail.
Learning that even the caster himself couldn't lift the curse had dealt Sebastian a devastating blow.
Elias stood nearby, watching the kneeling youth's shoulders tremble violently.
His mind went blank.
What was he supposed to do at a time like this?
What should he say?
How was he supposed to comfort him?
Elias opened his mouth.
"Stop crying."
He regretted the words the instant they left his lips.
What kind of consolation was that?
Sebastian had just learned that his sister's curse was incurable, and Elias's response was to tell him to stop crying?
Was he even human?
"I'll feel worse if I don't cry," Sebastian said from behind his hands.
"Then don't feel bad."
The moment Elias said it, he wanted to slap himself.
It felt as though his mouth no longer belonged to him.
Heaven knew this was genuinely difficult for Elias. If someone asked him to fight, he would do it without hesitation. But comforting people?
His ability to do that was even less reliable than Edgar's magical talent.
At that moment, Lynn returned after disposing of the Ashwinders' bodies.
His method of handling corpses was exceedingly simple and could be summarized in three phrases: destroy the evidence, scatter the ashes, and leave everyone happy.
He stopped beside Sebastian, patted him on the shoulder, and spoke.
"If you trust me, stop crying for a moment. I may have a way to save your sister, but if it works, you must promise me one thing."
Sebastian's sobbing immediately faltered.
Silence settled over the courtyard for several seconds.
Then Sebastian raised his head.
"You truly have a way to cure Anne?"
Lynn looked at him but didn't answer immediately. After a moment of thought, he shrugged.
"Perhaps."
Sebastian looked from Lynn to Elias.
Elias still stood nearby with his wand in hand and the same awkward expression of someone who had no idea what to say. When he noticed Sebastian looking at him, however, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly, and he nodded.
The gesture was small but firm.
Sebastian gritted his teeth and made his decision.
Out of trust for his good friend, he chose to believe Lynn this once.
"If you can truly cure Anne," he said hoarsely, "I'll do anything you ask."
Lynn waved a hand.
"That won't be necessary. It's only a small favor. For you, it should be easy."
He rose and brushed the dust from his robes.
"Lead the way."
...
In the Scottish Highlands, outside the Sallow family cottage in Feldcroft, stood a typical stone dwelling.
Its design was simple and old, and the building had fallen slightly into disrepair.
After the deaths of Sebastian's parents, he and Anne had been taken in and raised here by their uncle, Solomon Sallow.
Three sharp cracks of Apparition broke the silence along the gravel path before the cottage.
Lynn, Elias, and Sebastian emerged from the black mist.
Sebastian stood at the front. He had barely placed one foot upon the stone slab at the entrance when the cottage door was violently thrown open from within.
"BANG—!!!"
A tall figure rushed through the doorway with his wand already raised, its tip glowing with gathered magic.
His gaze swept over Lynn and Elias before settling on Sebastian.
His expression immediately became unnatural.
"What unreliable herbs have you brought back this time?"
Solomon's voice was stiff.
He likely hadn't spoken properly to Sebastian in a long time. Every conversation between them ended in either an argument or a cold war, and he seemed to have forgotten how to address his nephew normally.
Sebastian stood still and took a deep breath.
"I didn't come here to argue with you. I want to see Anne."
Solomon froze.
He had expected Sebastian to retort as usual.
"What do you mean, unreliable?"
Or perhaps, "Do you even want Anne to recover?"
But Sebastian said neither.
Solomon remained silent for a moment. His gaze lingered on his nephew's face before shifting away.
"Anne is resting."
"Then we'll wait," Sebastian replied.
An uncomfortable silence fell over the group.
No one spoke.
A weak female voice came from inside the cottage.
"Uncle Solomon, is Sebastian back?"
---
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