The door to my apartment creaked open, a tired groan that carried into the suffocating quiet waiting for me. The place hadn’t changed—not that I expected it to. Dim light filtered through the blinds, cutting streaks into the stale air that reeked of smoke and regret. Papers leaned precariously on uneven stacks, a bottle of whiskey perched on the coffee table like a sentry, and the ashtray brimmed over, a testament to nights spent drowning in my own poison.

  I shrugged off my coat, letting it fall in a heap onto the couch, its folds swallowing the weight of the day. My fingers instinctively sought out a cigar from my pocket. I snap my fingers lighting the cigar, the flame biting at the end until it glowed like a dying star. The first drag hit my lungs hard, its familiar burn chasing away the cold that had settled in my chest since the hospital.

  Whiskey came next. The bottle glugged as it poured into a glass I didn’t bother to clean. I lifted it to my lips and let the amber liquid sear its way down. The burn felt good. Real. A sharp reminder that, for better or worse, I was still breathing. The rest of the world could rot outside.

  Then I saw it.

  The letter sat on the kitchen counter, white and pristine, as out of place as a dove in a battlefield. The Order’s seal glared back at me, embossed and official, promising nothing but bad news.

  I didn’t want to open it. Hell, I didn’t need to open it. I already knew what it would say, but my fingers betrayed me. The envelope tore, the paper inside slicing my thumb as if it wanted to make its point clear. Blood welled at the cut, but I ignored it and unfolded the letter.

  Master Wizard Julius Azrael Holmes,

  You are hereby suspended from active duty within the Order of Magi, effective immediately. Pending review by the Disciplinary Committee, an administrative hearing has been scheduled for eight months from today. Further contact with active members of the Order, except as outlined in the suspension protocol, will be deemed a violation of terms and could result in permanent expulsion.

  Regards,

  Disciplinary Committee, Order of Magi

  The words didn’t sting—they cut, jagged and deep. Eight months. Eight goddamn months to sit, stew, and sink while they decided my fate.

  The glass in my hand shattered against the wall before I even realized I’d thrown it. The shards sparkled in the dim light, a constellation of my frustration scattered across the floor.

  I leaned back against the counter, cigar smoke curling around my head like a noose. The letter dangled from my fingers before I let it fall, its pristine edges smudged with whiskey and ash.

  Outside, the city buzzed with life. Inside, I let the silence drown me.

  The glass shattered against the wall, a burst of sound and light in the dim room, the shards catching what little glow filtered through the blinds. They glittered like fallen stars, scattered across the floor. I didn’t move to clean them up. Why bother?

  The next blow came a month of empty mornings later. Mattie. She was quiet as she packed, her movements deliberate, almost apologetic, like she didn’t want to stir whatever beast I’d become.

  I watched her from the couch, a cigar dangling from my lips, smoke curling around me like a noose. The bottle in my hand was nearly empty, its amber contents my only companion these days. “So, that’s it, then,” I said, my voice low, more gravel than sound.

  She froze for a moment, her hand gripping the handle of her suitcase like it was the last steady thing in her world. “You made this decision for us, Julius,” she said, not turning around. Her voice was calm, too calm, like she’d rehearsed this a thousand times. “I didn’t want it to end like this.”

  “Sure you didn’t.” The words came out sharp, jagged, and bitter enough to cut through the haze.

  She sighed—soft, resigned. Then she walked to the door, her suitcase trailing behind her like a ghost of what we’d been. She didn’t look back when she left. The door closed softly, an almost gentle ending to something that had been anything but.

  And then it was just me.

  The days bled together, an endless reel of smoke and whiskey. The mornings arrived unwelcome, their light battling against the drawn blinds. I stayed in my fortress of shadow, where time didn’t matter and the outside world felt like a distant, cruel joke.

  Wake up. Drink. Smoke. Stew in my anger until it boiled over into something ugly, something destructive. Drink some more. Repeat. The bottles piled up, silent witnesses to my descent, while the ashtray overflowed, a monument to my indulgence.

  The phone rang sometimes. I let it. Let them leave their messages. The Order. Zefpyre. Whoever else thought they had a reason to care. They could keep their ivory tower, their hearings, their judgments. They gave me eight months; I was taking my eight.

  The memories wouldn’t give me the same mercy. They stalked me in the silence, dragged me back to that theater, to Mattie’s doubt, to the Last Disciple’s laughter echoing like a curse.

  The air grew heavier with every passing day, the weight of something unseen pressing in. I could feel it—the storm gathering on the horizon, waiting to break.

  It always did. And so I sat, whiskey in one hand, cigar in the other, ready for it to come.

  In my stupor, I heard the faint creak of a lock, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone forcing their way into my apartment. The intruder wasn’t subtle—crashing through like a drunk elephant in a china shop. I didn’t bother to get up. Instead, I stayed sprawled on my bed, staring at the ceiling stained yellow from too many cigars.

  “Oy! You’d better kill me quick, or I swear, I’ll make your life a living hell,” I barked, my voice rough from too much whiskey and smoke.

  “Fuck you, Julius. It’s me,” a voice shot back. It wasn’t just any voice. It was the voice—music and memory rolled into one. The voice that once made my heart skip beats and my world feel less like a cursed graveyard. Cassidy.

  I sighed, letting the moment cut through the fog in my brain. “Why are you here?” I growled.

  “Isn’t it obvious, dumbass? I’m here to see you,” she snapped. Her tone was sharp, but the warmth was there, buried under the layers of sarcasm. “Wow, this place is a wreck.”

  I turned my head and glared at her. She met my look with one of her own, a mix of exasperation and fondness. “Can you please clean up in here?” she said, like she was asking me to pass the salt at dinner.

  With a half-hearted wave of my hand, the room snapped into pristine order. No spell could fix the hollow feeling that hung in the air, but at least it looked tidy. Cassidy perched on the edge of the couch, studying me like a case she hadn’t cracked yet.

  “How are you holding up?” she asked softly, her voice almost tender.

  I let out a bitter laugh. “Cassidy, how the fuck do you think I’m holding up?”

  She reached out, plucking the cigar from between my lips. Without missing a beat, she took an extra-long drag, letting the smoke curl lazily around her like a veil. “Damn,” she said, exhaling slowly, “this is some good shit. You’ve always had the best Dreamer’s Leaf.”

  For the first time in what felt like centuries, I laughed. It was short and rough, but real.

  “Julius,” she said, her tone shifting to something softer, almost nostalgic, “do you remember when we were kids? We got into so much trouble, your mom sent us to be taught by Medusa for a year.”

  I chuckled, shaking my head at the memory. “Yeah, that was some bullshit. We must’ve been turned to stone at least a hundred times.”

  Her smile lingered for a moment before fading. “So, did your mom send you here?” I asked.

  Cassidy shook her head. “No. She actually forbade me from coming.”

  “Sounds like her,” I muttered, lighting a fresh cigar with a flick of my fingers. “So what’s the catch?”

  “She’s planning on revoking your last name,” Cassidy said, her voice quieter now.

  “Yeah, she’s tried that a few times. No worries,” I said, shrugging.

  Cassidy’s composure broke for a moment. “No worries? Julius, are you kidding me?”

  “It can’t be done,” I said, my voice cold. “I made sure of it. My name is the one thing I’ll have until the end of my days—or until I choose to let it go.”

  I looked her in the eyes, the weight of a thousand unsaid things hanging between us. “Why are you really here?”

  Her gaze softened, and she reached for my hand. “No matter what happened between us, Julius, I’ll always love you.”

  I pulled my hand back slightly, my defenses snapping into place. “How will your newly betrothed feel about that?” I asked, my tone cutting.

  She scoffed. “What, Julius? Just because I’m physically in the same room as another man doesn’t mean I’m marrying him.”

  “So your parents didn’t…”

  She shook her head. “No, Julius. They didn’t. They passed me over for the inheritance.”

  The sharp edge in my voice dulled. I reached out this time, taking her hand in mine. “I’m so sorry, Cassidy.”

  For a moment, the world outside stopped, and it was just the two of us—two broken people trying to find something whole in the mess.

  The silence between us stretched like a tightrope, thin and fragile. Finally, she broke it, her voice soft but weighted. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

  My mind stumbled. Tomorrow? What the hell was tomorrow?

  Cassidy let out a sigh, the kind that carried years of exasperation and heartache. “Your administrative hearing, Julius. It’s tomorrow.”

  “Oh,” I muttered, pouring myself another drink, the amber liquid catching the dim light as it sloshed into the glass. “I’m not too worried. Haven’t done anything worthy of getting kicked off Earth.”

  Her eyes stayed on me, worry carved into her features like a statue weathered by years of storms. “Do you want me to be there for you?” she asked.

  I shook my head, downing the drink in one go. “No. I’ll save you the embarrassment. You’ve already seen me get banished once. I won’t make you suffer through it again.”

  Her expression shifted in an instant, calm replaced by fury. She stood, her hands trembling at her sides. “Why do you do this?” she snapped, her voice trembling with barely restrained rage. “Every time I try to be there for you, you push me away! Julius, I’ve loved you since we were kids. It’s always been you and me. Then one day, you decided to destroy everything in your life, and it broke me—broke my heart—to watch it happen.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as she pressed on, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “All I want to know is why.”

  I hesitated, my fingers tracing the rim of my glass. The words came slow, heavy with the truth I’d buried under layers of bravado. “Maybe because this is what I deserve. Maybe because you deserve better than me. Maybe because if I didn’t ruin things, if I didn’t push you away, you’d wake up centuries from now and regret wasting your life with me.”

  Her sobs grew louder, raw and unguarded, each one a knife in my chest. “What made you think that was the case?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

  “I saw it in a vision, Cassidy,” I said quietly. “I already lived it.”

  She laughed bitterly through her tears, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. “What makes you think that vision was true?”

  “Because I feel it in my soul,” I said, my voice rough. “The inadequacy. Sure, I hide it behind this tough fa?ade, but deep down… I’ve done some amazing magic, yes. But I’m not brilliant, not like everyone else. I’ve just gotten lucky. And my biggest fear—my biggest goddamned fear—is that one day, the people closest to me will see how mediocre I really am. How mundane. They’ll see the fraud I’ve been hiding all these years and realize I’m not worth their time.”

  Her voice softened, cutting through my self-loathing like a blade. “So you’d rather we all hate you?”

  I took a long drag from my cigar, the smoke curling around us like a ghost. “The thing about hate, Cassidy… you can’t hate something without loving it first.”

  She stared at me, her tears now a steady stream. “Oh, Julius,” she murmured, her voice thick with heartbreak. Then, abruptly, she stood. “I have to go.”

  Without waiting for a response, she stormed out of the apartment, the door slamming behind her.

  I sat there, alone again, surrounded by the quiet she left in her wake. Her scent lingered in the air—a mix of something sweet and sharp, like her. It wrapped around me, a reminder of everything I’d lost and everything I’d never deserve.

  That morning, I dressed with care, every movement deliberate. The robes of my House felt heavier than usual, their weight pressing against my shoulders like a second skin. I knew what wearing them would mean, knew the scene it would cause. Let them stare. Let them whisper. If they wanted these robes off my back, they’d have to rip them off my cold, dead body.

  I earned this. My mother could disown me, but she couldn’t erase who I was. I would always be a Holmes, whether they liked it or not.

  The lock clicked, and the front door creaked open. I stepped out of my room to find Zefpyre standing in the living room, tall and composed, the perpetual thorn in my side.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, the irritation clear in my tone.

  “I am your watcher, Julius,” he said, his voice calm and even, like he’d practiced this speech a hundred times. “Until you’ve served the terms of your banishment—or until you’re no longer on Earth—I will remain by your side. It’s my duty.”

  I rolled my eyes, lighting a cigar with a flick of my fingers. “Good for you.”

  Zefpyre’s gaze flicked over my robes. “Do you think that’s wise?” he asked, waiting for a response I didn’t give. When I didn’t answer, he continued, his words measured and cautious. “To wear that today of all days?”

  I ignored him, puffing on the cigar, letting the smoke swirl between us like a barrier.

  “There will be a member of your former House in attendance,” he added, his words landing with the precision of a knife.

  That made me pause. Slowly, I pulled the cigar from my lips, the embers glowing faintly. I turned to face him, my voice cold and unwavering. “Listen, Zefpyre. No one—and I mean no one—can take away my heritage. They don’t want me in the House anymore? Fine. But what they can never strip away is who I am. The sooner you all understand that, the better it’ll be for everyone.”

  My eyes darkened, and my voice dropped lower, the words cutting through the air like a blade. “And if anyone has a problem with it, they’d better be ready to fight. Because I promise you, I’ll destroy the cosmos before I let them take what’s mine.”

  Zefpyre sighed, his disappointment etched into every line of his face. He shook his head slightly before muttering, “We’d better get going, Master Wizard.”

  We left the apartment without another word, descending the stairs in silence.

  Once outside, I pulled my Shelby Cobra from my pocket with a flick of my wrist, the enchanted car roaring to life as it expanded to full size. Zefpyre climbed into the passenger seat, his expression unreadable as I settled in behind the wheel.

  I turned on an audiobook, letting the narrator’s voice fill the cabin and drown out the tension that clung to the air like a bad smell.

  For once, I drove the speed limit. Maybe it was the way the sunlight bounced off Lake Michigan, casting golden ripples over the water’s surface. Maybe it was the way the glass towers of the city caught the light, refracting it into endless colors that painted the skyline. Or maybe it was just the fact that I hadn’t left my apartment in eight months, and my senses were starved for something, anything, that wasn’t stale whiskey and smoke.

  I didn’t know.

  What I did know was that, for just a moment, I let the worries and the pain slip away. The endless storm in my head quieted, and I allowed myself to exist in the beauty of the morning.

  Because I knew the peace wouldn’t last. It never did.

  I couldn’t tell you how I got to the courtroom. The memory of the drive, the steps into the Order’s headquarters, even the moments getting out of the car—it was all a blank. One second, I was in the world; the next, I was here.

  Zefpyre stood to my right, his form ablaze with elemental fire. He didn’t take that shape often—it pained him on this plane, but today was a formal occasion, and appearances mattered. The flickering light from his flames danced across the high, vaulted ceilings, casting long shadows that seemed to shift and whisper like ghosts of decisions past.

  I scanned the room. It was packed—every seat filled, every face familiar. Mattie was here, sitting with my sister. They were representing the House, of course, their postures rigid, their faces masks of diplomacy.

  And then my gaze caught on someone else.

  In the far back, Cassidy sat beside Celeste. My chest tightened at the sight of them. Cassidy’s expression was soft, filled with love and warmth, maybe even pity—a sharp blade cloaked in silk. But Celeste… Celeste’s eyes were hard as steel, burning with the same anger she’d carried since the night of my banishment. She hadn’t forgiven me. Not even close.

  And why should she?

  When our eyes locked, the weight of my burden seemed to grow heavier, hotter, until it felt like it might sear itself into my skin. Part of that burden was for her—a constant, unbearable reminder of what I’d done, the wreckage I’d left behind.

  I forced myself to look away, the shame crawling up my spine like a living thing.

  The rest of the room was no less intimidating. It was a who’s who of the Other Realm, a gathering so rare it hadn’t happened on Earth since the days of Camelot. Members of the Order filled the gallery, their robes pristine and their faces a mixture of curiosity and disdain. Brock and Williams were there, Order loyalists to the bone. Even CPD Liaison Murphy had somehow made it in, though how a mundane managed to secure a seat in this crowd was anyone’s guess. I hoped he was ready for the show.

  The room buzzed with energy—anticipation crackling in the air like a live wire. They were all here to witness my fate.

  And I… I was here to face it.

  The Sergeant-at-Arms strode into the room, his boots echoing like thunderclaps in the heavy silence. His voice boomed out, reverberating against the stone walls:

  “All rise, as this hearing is now in session!”

  The room obeyed, a sea of figures shifting to their feet. I stood too, though the weight of dread in my chest made me feel as though I were sinking into the floorboards.

  And then they entered.

  Ten figures, cloaked in the regal robes of their offices, filed into the chamber. My stomach dropped. A full High Council? Each one represented the Nine Ruling Families, and at their head was the Leader of them all—the Pendragons.

  But somehow, it got worse.

  Trailing behind them was a figure that made the room draw a collective breath: a proxy of the Grand Sorcerer himself. The blood drained from my face. Not even at my banishment had the Grand Sorcerer deemed my case worthy of attention. Back then, only three Houses had shown up. Now, this?

  I glanced over at Zefpyre. His blazing form flickered with the faintest smugness as his expression screamed, I told you so.

  I turned away from him, searching the gallery. My eyes found Cassidy, her face pale. She mouthed the words, I’m sorry, and I felt the apology like a dagger between my ribs.

  The Sergeant-at-Arms spoke again, his voice unrelenting.

  “Before us is the matter of Master Wizard Julius A. Holmes, First of His Name, v. The Order of Magi. Presiding today is Arch Sorcerer Alfred Pendragon.”

  I stiffened.

  “Arch Wizard Rosabella Anna Zariah Holmes,” the Sergeant continued.

  My gaze snapped to her—my mother. She sat among the council, her face a mask of cold detachment, but her eyes betrayed her fury. My stomach twisted as the voice inside my head screamed.

  The Sergeant continued, listing off names that only tightened the noose around my neck:

  “Arch Summoner Zachary Banks. Arch Warlock Regius Lazur. Arch Wizard Geoffrey Harrington.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  My heart sank lower. Harrington. Celeste’s father. The man who’d hated me ever since I accidentally burned down his rare herb garden when I was ten.

  “Arch Alchemist Cedric Ptolemy. Grand Wizard Nicodemus the Second. Grand Traveler Doctor Smith. Master Mage Faust. And finally…”

  He paused, his voice thick with gravity.

  “…the Immortal Lord Al Ghul.”

  The room was still as a graveyard as the council took their seats.

  “You may be seated,” the Sergeant said.

  Everyone sat except me. I stood frozen, my mind a storm of faces and accusations. These weren’t just heads of families—they were the heads of the entire magical community.

  The side door creaked open, and another figure entered. The atmosphere shifted, growing heavier with every step.

  Grand Chancellor Gabriel Pendragon.

  He was clad in full Nephilim armor, each gleaming plate etched with runes that glowed faintly. Behind him walked Seraphim, his aura like a blade cutting through the tension. It was overkill, each of them another nail in my coffin.

  “Master Wizard,” Alfred Pendragon’s voice broke the silence. “Please, be seated.”

  My knees buckled. The world tilted, and I collapsed into my chair. Gasps rippled through the gallery, but I couldn’t bring myself to look back.

  “Sergeant,” Pendragon said, his tone curt. “Please read the charges.”

  The Sergeant cleared his throat.

  “The charges are as follows:

  “One count of conduct unbecoming a member of the Order of Magi.

  “Three counts of torturous and overuse of force against a fellow practitioner.

  “One count of blatant use of magic before mundanes.

  “And lastly, one count of disturbing the peace and spreading false information, causing unrest.”

  I blinked, stunned.

  That’s it?

  I’d braced for a litany of accusations long enough to bury me. For charges this simple, why summon the entire High Council?

  Even Alfred Pendragon’s expression seemed to echo my confusion, his brow furrowing slightly as he scanned the parchment in his hand.

  Whatever was going on, this was just the preamble.

  The room was a cacophony of murmurs as my mother cleared her throat, her voice slicing through the noise like a knife.

  “Are there any complaints from the gallery that need to be addressed today?”

  The murmurs grew louder, a restless ripple of intrigue and unease. Then, my sister stood. Tall, poised, and with that damnable air of self-righteousness she always carried.

  “I request an audience with the High Council to hear my grievance.”

  A sigh escaped Arch Sorcerer Pendragon, weary yet resigned. “You may be heard.”

  Jessica strode to the podium, her heels clicking sharply against the stone floor. Even the Sergeant-at-Arms straightened his posture.

  “Please state your name for the record,” he commanded.

  She cleared her throat, her voice steady and cold. “I, Master Wizard Jessica Holmes, the Dragon of the Immortal Reach.”

  The room shifted. Whispers of Dragon moved like a wind through the gallery, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, she couldn’t just say her name.

  The Sergeant-at-Arms nodded, his tone formal. “State your grievance.”

  Jessica squared her shoulders, her voice ringing clear. “For repeated conduct unbecoming a member of the Royal Family, a member of the Royal Court, and the House of Holmes, I formally request this High Council revoke Julius Azrael Holmes’ right to the use of our House name. As the official representative of my House, it is our wish.”

  My chair scraped against the floor as I bolted upright.

  “Objection!” I shouted, my voice echoing across the chamber.

  The council turned their eyes on me, but I didn’t care. My hand flew to the chain around my neck, ripping it free and holding the ring aloft.

  “She has no standing to bring this grievance,” I said, my voice steady now, each word deliberate. “This Council and I created a binding oath over ten years ago that I would never lose the right to my name. To revoke that oath would break the bond and release my burden—and all that comes with it.”

  A gasp rippled through the chamber, louder and sharper this time. Even the seasoned members of the gallery leaned forward in their seats.

  Then, the proxy for the Grand Sorcerer rose to his feet.

  The room fell deathly silent.

  “On behalf of Merlin himself, the Grand Sorcerer, and the Fairy Godmother,” he began, his voice heavy with finality, “neither are willing to allow the oath created over ten years ago with the Master Wizard to be broken. Your request is formally denied, with prejudice.”

  I exhaled, relief flooding through me. My grip on the ring loosened, though it still felt impossibly heavy in my hand.

  Jessica, however, wasn’t done.

  “If that is the case,” she said, her tone like ice, “then we formally request he be fully removed from the hereditary line of House Holmes. Let it be known to all that he is no longer a member of this House and shall never again be associated with it, henceforth and forevermore.”

  The ring burned in my hand, its weight growing hotter, heavier. My fingers fumbled as I struggled to slip it back onto the chain around my neck.

  Arch Sorcerer Pendragon sighed. “Hearing no objections, the High Council shall call to a vote. All those in favor?”

  My mother’s hand shot up first, swift and unyielding. One by one, others followed: Harrington, Banks, and Nicodemus. Four votes.

  The rest remained still, their faces unreadable as they abstained.

  Pendragon’s voice was dry, almost bored. “The vote fails. Master Wizard Holmes, you may be seated.”

  The knot in my chest loosened, but only slightly.

  Jessica stepped down from the podium, her head high, her expression as sharp and cold as a blade. As she passed, I saw the faintest twitch of a smirk on her lips. She returned to her seat in the gallery, and I could feel my mother’s fury radiating through the air like a storm.

  The Proxy for the Grand Sorcerer stood abruptly, his cloak swirling behind him as he exited the courtroom without a word.

  I sat there, frozen, confusion wrapping around my relief like a vise. Why had he left?

  For all the theatrics of the council, something deeper was at play here, and I was just now realizing how little control I had in this entire farce.

  The gallery erupted in chaos as people whispered, muttered, and argued among themselves, the noise threatening to swallow the courtroom whole. Arch Sorcerer Alfred Pendragon banged his gavel repeatedly, his voice cutting through the cacophony.

  “Decorum in the courtroom! Decorum!”

  The room slowly quieted, though a palpable tension lingered in the air. Pendragon straightened in his seat, fixing his gaze on his son.

  “Now, for the matter at hand. Grand Chancellor, are you prepared to begin?”

  Gabriel rose, his Nephilim armor gleaming under the light, the weight of his presence undeniable.

  “We are, Your Honor. However, there is a matter we need to address. The three charges of torturous and overuse of force against fellow practitioners must be dismissed without prejudice, as the complaining witnesses are unable to appear in court.”

  A murmur of confusion rippled through the gallery. My mother’s voice, sharp and commanding, rose above it.

  “Can they not be summoned?”

  Gabriel met her glare with calm composure. “It is due to unexpected circumstances that they are no longer mentally competent to bear witness.”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, my brow furrowing in confusion.

  The gallery erupted again, voices demanding answers, speculating wildly.

  Arch Summoner Banks raised a hand for silence. “Is there any evidence that the defendant had anything to do with this?”

  “No, Your Honor,” Gabriel replied. “It appears that when the Necromancer Jake died, it triggered a magical backlash or safety net of some kind. The effect completely obliterated their minds. Despite the best efforts of the Other Realm’s healers, the most we’ve been able to recover is their ability to perform basic bodily functions.”

  Arch Alchemist Cedric Ptolemy leaned forward, his voice laced with curiosity. “And who conducted this healing magic?”

  “The Grand Healer himself, Lord Asclepius,” Gabriel answered.

  Pendragon nodded solemnly. “Very well. Those charges are hereby stricken. Grand Chancellor, as the head of the Order of Magi, has your office conducted a formal investigation into the remaining charges?”

  Gabriel inclined his head. “We have, Your Honor.”

  “Proceed with your findings.”

  Gabriel’s voice remained steady, though a hint of weariness seeped into his tone. “After a thorough investigation, we determined that the Master Wizard was under extreme stress from two back-to-back cases of extraordinary nature. Most recently, we believe the prolonged and intense use of necromancy caused a state of confusion. Our recommendation is that he be removed from his position as a detective until he has been cleared by a therapist. We propose he be reassigned as a liaison to members of the occult community.”

  The air grew still as my mother stirred, her voice cutting like a blade.

  “Are you telling me that you are not seeking banishment to the Underworld, as is your right?”

  Gabriel’s tone remained neutral. “We see no need to seek that punishment and formally object to it being considered.”

  Arch Wizard Geoffrey Harrington rose from his seat, his voice dripping with disdain. “I would like to request that the Council put the punishment of lower banishment to the Underworld on the table.”

  Zefpyre immediately stood, his Flame Elemental form flickering slightly. “Objection, Your Honor. As stated in the Accords, only a representative of the Order may seek banishment to the lower planes.”

  Harrington smirked. “There is an addendum to that statute. A full High Council has the authority to supersede the statute and place banishment to any plane it sees fit.”

  Pendragon sighed, his face weary. “Very well. The objection is noted but overruled. I will call for a vote. All those in favor of considering lower banishment?”

  My mother’s hand shot up, followed by Harrington and Banks.

  “And those opposed?”

  The remaining hands rose, including Pendragon’s own.

  Pendragon’s voice carried no emotion. “Let the record show the nays have it. Lower banishment will not be considered.”

  I rose from my seat, my voice firm. “Your Honor, as the remaining charges seek only removal from my current duties, I would like to save the court’s time and plead guilty to all charges, accepting the recommended punishment.”

  Harrington shot to his feet, his face a mask of outrage. “Objection! That is not for him to decide!”

  Zefpyre stood again, his flames flaring slightly. “Your Honor, according to Statute 17-36 of the Order Penal Code, which has been fully ratified by the Accords, it is within the defendant’s rights to plead guilty and accept the punishment sought by the prosecution.”

  Pendragon flipped through the casebook in front of him, his brow furrowing before he slammed his gavel. “I confirm that the Penal Code does indeed permit this. I rule in favor of the Master Wizard’s plea of guilty.”

  His piercing gaze locked onto me. “Master Wizard Julius, your detective shield is hereby revoked, along with all duties and privileges it grants. You are reassigned as a liaison to members of the occult community. You will begin reporting to your new duties one week from Monday.”

  The gavel struck again, its echo reverberating through the chamber.

  The Sergeant-at-Arms announced, “All rise! This proceeding is no longer in session.”

  The High Council rose in unison, their robes flowing as they exited the courtroom.

  As I stood, the glares from my mother and her allies burned into me, their disdain palpable. I didn’t meet their eyes, knowing it would do no good.

  The burden around my neck felt heavier than ever.

  As Zefpyre and I exited the courtroom, the tension in my chest began to ease, though the weight of the ring around my neck reminded me that my troubles were far from over. Zefpyre glanced up at me, his expression somewhere between amusement and irritation.

  “You got very lucky today,” he muttered. “I fully expected you to end up as the Underworld’s newest resident.”

  Grinning, I pulled out a cigar and lit it, the scent of Dreamers Leaf curling around us. In that moment, I couldn’t help but feel like the great Red Auerbach, celebrating a narrow victory.

  “Zef, you magnificent furball,” I said with a smirk. “I knew there was nothing to worry about.”

  He sighed heavily. “Not even you believe that.”

  We started to make our way out, but our path was suddenly blocked by Mattie. Her face lit up with relief as she ran up to me and threw her arms around my waist in an uncharacteristic show of affection.

  “I’m so happy nothing bad happened!” she exclaimed.

  Caught off guard, I hesitated before patting her on the head. “Now, now, Lady Charlemagne-Holmes, enough of that.”

  When I looked up, my eyes met Jessica’s. She stood a short distance away, her smirk as sharp as ever.

  “Jessica,” I said, my tone flat.

  “Brother,” she replied, her voice dripping with mock sweetness.

  Something clicked in my mind. “You knew that little charade would fail, didn’t you?”

  Her smirk widened. “Actually, I thought it was going to pass. Mother forced the whole thing—she’s sick of you.”

  I shrugged, exhaling a puff of smoke. “Ehh, never been too worried about her antics.”

  “Boss Man,” Mattie said, tugging at my sleeve, “what’s with the ring?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so I’m ‘Boss Man’ again, am I?”

  “You never stopped being Boss Man,” she retorted. “You were the one who dismissed me.”

  “I can’t mentor someone who doesn’t trust me,” I said evenly.

  She opened her mouth to respond, then thought better of it, falling silent.

  Absentmindedly, my fingers brushed the ring around my neck, its warmth a constant reminder of its power—and its secrets.

  Jessica’s gaze narrowed. “I’d love to learn the secrets of that ring,” she said, her tone teasing but with an edge of genuine curiosity.

  “Unfortunately, dear sister, this is on a need-to-know basis, and you’re not even remotely on that list. Mother dearest doesn’t even know the terms.”

  Jessica laughed, though there was a flicker of frustration in her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure she’ll find out soon enough.”

  I grinned, shaking my head. “I don’t think so. There’s a gag order on the terms, blessed by the Grand Sorcerer himself.”

  Zefpyre blinked, his feline eyes sharp. “I didn’t know that.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know, Zef.”

  Without another word, Zefpyre reverted to his sleek black cat form, flicked his tail, and sauntered off, leaving us behind.

  Before I could say anything else, Gabriel approached, his expression as unreadable as ever.

  “If you don’t mind me cutting in,” he said, his tone formal, “I need to speak with you in my office.”

  I gave him a long look. “Is this a formal request of your station?”

  “Unfortunately, it is.”

  With a theatrical sigh, I stubbed out my cigar. “Welp, I must take my leave. The boss is calling me.”

  As I turned to follow Gabriel, Mattie grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly firm.

  “Boss Man, I’d like to work with you again,” she said, her voice quieter, almost hesitant.

  I chuckled. “You want to be a liaison to the occult?”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what we do—I just miss learning from you.”

  I softened slightly, though I kept my tone light. “Take it up with Zef. He’s my handler —he might as well be useful for once.”

  With that, I followed Gabriel out of the courtroom, leaving Mattie behind as the weight of the day began to settle on my shoulders once again.

  The air in Alfred Pendragon's office grew heavier as the conversation turned serious. His voice cut through the stillness like a razor. “Now that we’ve got all that out of the way,” he said, his tone grave, “the real reason I called you here. What I’m about to say cannot leave this room. I need all of you to swear an oath—binding and unbreakable—that none of this will be spoken outside these walls without unanimous consent from the three of us.”

  I raised an eyebrow, leaning back in my chair. “If I may,” I said, a touch of nonchalance in my voice, “I’d like Mattie to be here for this.”

  Alfred nodded curtly. “I’ll summon her.”

  The minutes crawled by like a detective nursing a cheap whiskey. Then, a soft knock broke the silence. Mattie stepped in, her curious eyes scanning the room. Alfred motioned for her to sit.

  Once we were all seated, Alfred’s piercing gaze swept over us. “Now that we’re all here, we can proceed. First, Lady Charlemagne-Holmes, I must ask for your agreement. What we are about to discuss must remain confidential. You will need to swear an oath of silence, bound by magic, unless all three of us—Gabriel, Julius, and myself—agree otherwise.”

  Mattie nodded, her expression serious. “I understand.”

  “Very well. Hands in,” Alfred instructed.

  A golden dragon, shimmering like molten sunlight, coiled around our hands as the spell took hold. The magic pulsed, sealing our vow with an undeniable weight.

  I let out a breath, resting my elbows on the desk. “Okay. Now that the theatrics are over, what’s this about?”

  Alfred folded his hands, his voice steady. “Julius, I believe you. Well, mostly. While I’m not entirely convinced you witnessed the birth of an Avatar, I do think you witnessed the birth of something significant.”

  Gabriel scoffed, his usual cool veneer cracking. “Father, that’s absurd. If something that powerful had been born on Earth, we would’ve felt it. There would’ve been signs.”

  “Would you, though?” Alfred countered, his voice cutting through Gabriel’s objections. “When I heard your story, I started digging. So did the Immortal Lord. That’s why we both sought seats at today’s administrative hearing.”

  “Why?” Gabriel asked, his skepticism still palpable.

  Alfred steepled his fingers. “Let’s start with the Ritualist. The magic he was working with—those rituals—was far beyond the knowledge that should exist here on Earth. He was channeling arcane energy, yet he died so easily.”

  I couldn’t help myself. “It wasn’t that easy,” I said, a smug smile playing on my lips.

  Alfred shot me a glare sharp enough to cut steel. “Don’t interrupt, Julius.”

  I raised my hands in mock surrender. “Please, continue, Arch Sorcerer.”

  Alfred pressed on, his words deliberate. “Then there’s the Necromancer. All those killings, the creation of thousands of soul gems. The only book on Earth that could’ve taught him such advanced techniques just so happens to be at Gus’s shop—a man who has never, in his centuries of existence, shown interest in necromancy. Suspicious, don’t you think?”

  I nodded, my grin widening. Finally, someone was saying what I’d been thinking all along.

  “And the theater,” Alfred continued, “where necromancy, ritual magic, and summoning were blended perfectly. The conclusion most reached? That the spell rebounded, ripping the caster’s soul out.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “But that’s nonsense. Someone else tore that man’s soul from his body.”

  Mattie cleared her throat, her voice soft but steady. “Arch Sorcerer, may I say something?”

  Alfred nodded.

  Mattie reached into her bag, pulling out a folded piece of paper. “Nearly a year ago, Madam Harrington conducted research into the summoning done by The Ritualist we were investigating —the result was a Lesser Demon from the Plains of Nightmares. For some reason, everyone kept forgetting about it. I must’ve had a brief moment of clarity because I sent her a message, urging her to investigate further. What she found was... troubling. That demon had the magic to cloud our memories. But now, I think we’re remembering because he’s no longer a Lesser Demon.”

  Gabriel leaned forward, finishing her thought. “Because he ascended.”

  Mattie nodded, her expression grim.

  “Thank you for sharing, young lady,” Alfred said, his tone grave. “While I don’t know what’s happening, it’s causing beings of legend to stir. Julius, you must’ve noticed—the Fairy Godmother left the Fae Realm and has been meddling. The Immortal Lord Al Ghul stepped out of his sanctuary to reclaim his family’s seat on the Council. Even his daughter, who’s been active for centuries, is watching closely. Then there’s the discovery of a potion that’s been a Pendragon family secret for generations, rumors of the Father of Death himself... it all points to something ancient waking.”

  I shot to my feet, pointing at Gabriel and Mattie triumphantly. “I told you so!”

  Gabriel didn’t miss a beat, his voice dripping with exasperation. “You’re such a child.”

  The room felt thick with tension, the kind that wraps itself around your throat like a noose. Mattie broke the silence, her voice soft but resolute. “Boss man, I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you.”

  I waved her off with a tired smile, lighting a Cigar with a flick of my wrist. “Don’t sweat it. You had idiots like Zefpyre, Gabriel, and Arisa whispering in your ear. Hard to think straight with that kind of noise.”

  I glanced at Gabriel, whose face twisted into a deep frown, his pride taking yet another hit. Before he could say anything, Alfred stepped in, his tone sharp as a razor.

  “Julius, while I was hoping you’d be assigned to a Patrol,” he said, casting a pointed glare at his son, “perhaps this Liaison business will prove useful after all.”

  I turned to Gabriel, eyebrow raised. “Yeah? Why exactly did you want me as a Liaison?”

  Gabriel sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Trust me, it wasn’t my idea. The Fairy Godmother requested it as part of your punishment.”

  That hit like a sucker punch. I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “That bitch... She just wants me to deal with her nonsense. Figures.”

  Mattie burst into laughter, the sound like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. “You know, Boss, I think she’s got a crush on you.”

  I shot her a look, exhaling a plume of smoke. “So, does this mean you’re officially partnering with me again?”

  Gabriel cut in before Mattie could answer. “She filed the paperwork two months ago to be your partner. Didn’t you notice?”

  Mattie just smiled and shrugged, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Alfred clapped his hands together, the sound echoing in the room. “Yes, yes, very touching. A heartfelt reunion. But unlike the rest of you, I’ve spent far too long on this backwater planet.” He stood, brushing off his coat as if the very air of Earth offended him.

  Without another word, the Arch Sorcerer left, leaving us to stew in the aftermath.

  The tension in the room began to fizzle out, Gabriel leaning back in his chair with the weight of authority settling on his shoulders. “Now that’s settled,” he said, his tone clipped but professional. “Julius, I’ll see you in about a week. At that time, we’ll go over your new duties.”

  He turned to Mattie, his expression softening just a fraction. “Mattie, until your partner here is cleared for active duty, you’ll still be shadowing Granger. Consider yourself dismissed. Both of you.”

  I wanted to fire back with a sharp retort—something to leave him squirming—but after the day I’d had, even I knew better than to stir the pot any further. Instead, I offered a smirk, the kind that toes the line between genuine and sarcastic.

  “You know, Pendragon, maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe you’re not as annoying as I thought.”

  Before he could muster a response, I turned on my heel and left his office, Mattie trailing behind me like a loyal shadow.

  As we stepped into the hallway, Mattie looked up at me, her voice tinged with hope. “That was really nice of you, Boss. I think he’s going to be your best friend someday.”

  I glanced at her, the corners of my mouth twitching into a weary smile. “Don’t push it, kid. I’ve only ever had one best friend, and he’s not exactly the replaceable type.”

  We walked outside, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the stifling weight of the day. My car was waiting by the curb, sleek and silent, its dark paint blending into the shadows. Zefpyre was curled up in the back seat, his cat form looking far too innocent for someone with his penchant for chaos.

  He napped there, a picture of feline serenity, like a kitten basking in a patch of sunlight. I slid into the driver’s seat, Mattie settling in beside me.

  As the engine purred to life and we pulled away from the curb, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander. Maybe—just maybe—things were about to get better. Or, at the very least, a little more interesting.

  End Of Part One