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The Wind Mage's Legacy: Chapter 22
🕑 Added 2025-03-30 22:31:53 +0000 UTCHi all,
Here’s the third chapter for last week. It’s late, but at least it’s finally out. The fourth chapter will be out tomorrow, along with this week’s schedule.
Chapter 22
Harry hefted a wardrobe across the dormitory. He manoeuvred it carefully between the rows of freshly assembled beds. With a grunt, he positioned it against the wall and stepped back to assess his work.
"Perfect," Andromeda called from the doorway, clipboard in hand. "Now we just need twenty more of those."
She surveyed the room with critical eyes. The dormitory was taking shape—new mattresses still wrapped in plastic, desks arranged by the windows to catch the natural light, and now the first of many wardrobes standing proudly against the freshly painted walls.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Harry asked.
"Immensely." Andromeda's lips twitched with amusement. "Is there a reason you're moving furniture like a Muggle?”
"It keeps me busy. Stops me from thinking too much."
When his mind wandered, he saw only the coming confrontation. The Winter Solstice was in two days. Two days until Typhoon attempted whatever ritual would complete his resurrection. The timing couldn't be worse—with Hogwarts breaking for Christmas holidays two days after.
Fortunately, the Tornadoes had a break this weekend, so he didn't have to worry about playing a match. Iggy had cornered him two days ago after he'd missed his second practice session in a row.
Quidditch seemed trivial compared to what loomed ahead, but he understood Iggy's frustration. Still, Quidditch would have to wait. He needed to deal with the Typhoon situation first.
"Delivery's here!" Ron shouted from downstairs. "More beds!"
Harry moved to the window, watching as several house-elves dropped the furniture onto the gravel driveway. The estate sprawled before him, its stone façade and windows now scrubbed clean. What had been derelict weeks ago now stood ready to welcome its first residents tomorrow.
The younger orphans would arrive first. The Hogwarts students, including Ellis Parker, wouldn't arrive until the twenty-third. Hopefully, the situation with Typhoon would be resolved by then.
"Penny for them?" Daphne slipped her arms around his waist, her chin resting on his shoulder.
"Just thinking about the timing."
"You'll stop him before then."
"What if I don't?"
She turned him to face her. "You're not alone. We have plenty of allies."
"None of them can stand against Typhoon."
"True. But we need them to handle his followers while you focus on the main threat."
Harry nodded grimly. The coming battle had them at a disadvantage. Typhoon would attack without restraint, while Harry had vulnerable people to protect.
Every defensive measure he could think of surrounded Harefield Estate. Bill Weasley had overseen the installation of wardstones, burying them at specific depths and angles to create overlapping fields of protection. The goblins Cursebreakers hadn't come cheap, but the estate had become a fortress.
Yet Harry harboured no illusions—these measures might slow Typhoon but wouldn't stop him if he truly wanted to attack the estate.
Which was why the wind spirits formed the outer perimeter. They patrolled constantly, spread out across the grounds and into the surrounding countryside. Nothing would approach without Harry knowing instantly.
Would it be enough?
"Harry!" Bill's voice echoed up the stairwell. “I need a word.”
He found Bill in the entrance hall. The eldest Weasley looked tired, dark circles under his eyes betraying several sleepless nights.
"I just finalised the last wardstone," Bill said. "We've tied everything into the central hub in your office. Any breach will trigger the alarm system."
"Brilliant," Harry said. “I know you pushed yourself hard to get it finished in time.”
“It’s ok. The goblins are paying me a tidy sum for the job.”
"How's Fleur?"
"Ready to murder me for working through the night." Bill grinned. "Worth it, though. These protections would give Gringotts a run for its money."
"I can't thank you enough."
"You could start by visiting Mum and Dad." Bill's tone remained light, but his eyes held reproach. "She's been asking about you for weeks."
Harry winced. "I know. It's just been hectic with everything..."
"She’s going to take action soon if you don’t visit.” Bill laughed. "Get your priorities straight, mate."
"I'll visit. Soon as this is over."
A commotion outside drew their attention. Through the windows, Harry spotted Narcissa directing Draco and Lilith to arrange furniture in the gardens.
"Never thought I'd see the day," Bill muttered. "Malfoys playing nice."
"Just imagine having to live with them. This can’t be over soon enough."
Harry followed Bill outside and watched as he passed through the wards before disappearing with a crack of apparition.
He lingered, eyes scanning the grey skies, hoping to see Kaze appear. The wind spirit had been absent for days, scouring Britain for any trace of Typhoon's vessel. Harry didn't hold much hope that Kaze would find anything before the solstice. Their enemy had proven exceptionally skilled at concealing himself.
Harry returned inside to continue arranging the furniture. He'd just finished assembling a bookcase when the front door swung open, admitting a gust of cold air and two familiar figures. Ayano stepped inside, followed by her father.
"Harry," Ayano said. "My father has arrived."
Harry crossed the hall, wiping dust from his hands onto his jeans before extending one to Jugo. "Lord Kannagi. Thanks for coming."
Jugo's handshake was firm. "Call me Jugo."
"Then call me Harry."
Jugo released his hand, turning to survey the entrance. "A most impressive facility. Ayano has informed me about what you’re doing with the estate."
The great doors remained open, admitting a procession of figures—six men and six women dressed in traditional Japanese clothing. Despite their varied ages, they all shared the same watchful alertness.
"I've brought them to help with the Typhoon situation," Jugo explained, noticing Harry's attention. "The finest fire practitioners in my clan. They've been briefed on what we’re up against."
"I didn't expect you to lend this much aid," Harry said. "I appreciate the reinforcements."
"We are allies." Jugo’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Before we get into logistics, I would like to speak to you alone on a personal matter."
Harry shot Ayano a questioning glance. She grimaced and shrugged helplessly, a silent apology in her eyes.
"Of course." Harry gestured toward a corridor. "Ayano, can you get everyone settled?"
Ayano nodded, relief evident in her quick retreat to organise the newcomers.
Harry led Jugo to his office. He summoned Kreacher, who appeared with a crack and a disapproving glare at the interruption.
"Tea for our guest," Harry instructed, waiting until the house-elf disappeared before turning to Jugo. "What can I help you with?"
Jugo remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back as he studied the photographs on Harry's desk—several showing Harry with Daphne and Ayano at a Quidditch match.
"I understand my daughter resides at your home," he began without preamble.
"Yes, she—"
"Along with another young woman."
Harry reminded himself that this was Ayano's father, deserving at least basic courtesy. "It's a complicated arrangement."
"So it seems." Jugo stepped closer. "I don't mind the arrangement, so long as my daughter is happy. In fact, I welcome the relationship and hope it turns into something more. But my daughter carries the Kannagi legacy. I cannot afford for her to get pregnant out of wedlock. Are you taking precautions?"
Kreacher appeared with the refreshments and began serving them.
Harry frowned. "With all due respect, sir, that's between Ayano and me."
"Is it?" Jugo's expression hardened, and the temperature in the room rose noticeably. "I can make it my business."
Harry sighed. He wasn’t afraid of the man, but he didn’t think Ayano would like it if he got into a fight with her father.
"What do you want?" Harry asked.
"I want a betrothal agreement." Jugo raised his hands when Harry started to protest. "It's only binding if you get Ayano pregnant. Otherwise, you can take as long as you like to develop your relationship."
Harry considered the request while Kreacher poured tea with deliberate slowness, clearly eavesdropping.
It wasn't an unreasonable request, Harry supposed. He would marry Ayano if she ever got pregnant—he didn't need a piece of paper to enforce what basic decency dictated. Still, the presumption grated on him.
Harry leaned back in his seat. "Shouldn't we be having this conversation with your daughter present?"
"I would rather sort this out between us first. You can speak to Ayano later."
Harry ran a hand through his hair. "What other stipulations do you want?"
"I want a guarantee that one of Ayano's children becomes the next Heir of the Kannagi clan. The second child would do, as long as they inherit the Kannagi flames."
Kreacher placed the last teacup on the desk with a pointed clink before disappearing with a crack. Jugo fell silent, sipping his tea as he waited for Harry's response.
Harry stared at the untouched cup before him. What was he supposed to say? He wasn't going to make such a decision without Ayano's input. He understood that Jugo was traditional, but this wasn't the feudal era where marriages were arranged between patriarchs.
"I respect your position as Ayano's father," Harry said carefully, "but I'm not comfortable discussing her future without her present. Tradition be damned. We will revisit this topic after we have dealt with Typhoon."
Before Jugo could respond, they were interrupted by Daphne, standing at the door. "We have guests."
Catherine McDonald strode through the doors, her designer boots clicking against marble as confidently as if she were entering her own home.
"Harry," Catherine greeted him with a kiss on each cheek, seemingly oblivious to Daphne's narrowed eyes. "Sorry I'm late. Customs is such a bore."
"Catherine." Harry stepped back, creating distance. "What are you doing here?"
"Helping, darling." She smiled brilliantly. "And bringing information you desperately need."
Harry exchanged glances with Daphne, who looked equally surprised by the American's arrival.
"What information?"
Catherine gestured to her companions. "My team's been tracking a group across Europe. Three days ago, seven lightning practitioners crossed into Britain from Romania."
Harry's stomach tightened. "Lightning practitioners? You're certain?"
"Absolutely. The Balan family—notorious for their volatile tempers and equally volatile powers." Catherine's expression turned serious. "They never leave their stronghold without good reason."
"Typhoon?"
"Who else? While you've been playing house, our enemy's been recruiting."
"Is there more?" Harry asked. "If he's recruited people, there may be others out there that we don’t know about."
"Impossible to say for certain." Catherine pulled a small notebook from her coat pocket. "We've noticed unusual movement among several element-wielding families, but nothing concrete.”
Harry groaned. This complicated everything. He'd prepared to face Typhoon and his human followers—not an assemblage of elemental practitioners.
"Where's the Balan family right now?” Daphne asked. “We might locate Typhoon's hideout through them."
Catherine pulled a folded map from her jacket, spreading it across the desk. Her manicured fingernail tapped a green area in southern England.
"New Forest National Park. They'll be difficult to track amongst the woodlands. I suspect they're keeping a low profile until they're needed."
Harry crossed his arms. "Given how easily they slipped into Britain, they must have methods to hide their presence. Why were you looking for them in the first place?"
"It was connected to a case I’m investigating," Catherine replied, shifting uncomfortably. "I didn't suspect they were working with Typhoon until a few days ago."
"I'll need to inform the Minister of Magic about a potential conflict in England,” Harry said. “The Queen and Prime Minister should know as well."
Catherine leaned closer to Harry, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"I need to speak with you alone. This Typhoon situation is just the tip of the iceberg. Something much bigger is happening, and I need all the allies I can get."
Harry studied her face, noting the genuine concern in her eyes.
"Is this the reason you’re so interested in me? You want to recruit me for something?"
"One of the reasons," she admitted.
"Well, whatever it is, it can wait. I need to deal with Typhoon first."
Catherine nodded, seemingly unsurprised by his response. "Of course. I have brought ten subordinates with me. They are at your disposal.”
Harry nodded. “Thanks. We need all the help we can get.”
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
As darkness fell on the winter solstice, seven figures emerged from the New Forest National Park. They followed a tall figure wrapped in a billowing cloak. A hood covered their head, obscuring their features.
"I don't like this place," Marius Balan said, his massive frame navigating the undergrowth with difficulty.
The family patriarch was the most powerful and volatile of the Balan family. It was only thanks to his children and wife that he was able to restrain himself. But none of them were innocent, and all had violent tempers. It was just that they could control it better than Marius.
"The money outweighs your discomfort," his brother Nikolai said. The leaner sibling's eyes were shrewd. "Our talents are wasted in our homeland."
Elena, Marius's wife, said nothing. Compared to her husband, she was diminutive. But that didn't make her any less dangerous. Her hand rested on a metal conductor strapped to her thigh, ready to channel devastating voltage at a moment's notice.
Their twins, Andrei and Lucian, flanked the group's perimeter. The brothers moved in perfect synchronisation, communicating without words, their identical faces betraying no emotion.
"Do we have to worry about the authorities?" Cristina asked. Though the youngest Balan at nineteen, her eyes held the same merciless focus as her elders.
"Irrelevant," Grandmother Irina replied.
The cloaked figure halted, turning toward them. Irina’s eyes narrowed. No face was visible beneath the hood, but Irina could sense something was off about him.
The figure spoke up. "Your targets are twelve critical substations surrounding London."
"The exact locations?" Nikolai asked, drawing a worn notebook from his pocket.
"New Cross, Wimbledon, City Road, Hackney, Brimsdown, Waltham Cross, Elstree, Kensal Green, Willesden, Ealing, Acton, and Mill Hill."
Marius scowled. "How are we supposed to remember these locations?"
"I've just written them down," Nikolai said, tapping his notebook with irritation. "Pay attention for once in your life."
The figure continued as if they hadn’t spoken. "Strike them until the entire grid fails."
"And after that?" Marius asked.
The figure produced a tarnished brass compass. "This portkey will transport you to your first payment and main objective."
Marius took the object, examining it with narrowed eyes before nodding once.
"The plan begins now," the figure announced. "Prepare for transport."
The Balans formed a tight circle. No words were exchanged—they had conducted operations together for decades, making conversation unnecessary.
The cloaked figure held out a book. The family placed their fingers on it without hesitation. A violent lurch, a sensation of being pulled through a needle's eye, and they materialised on a London rooftop overlooking the sprawling city.
"Ten minutes to positions," Marius commanded.
Without acknowledgement, the family dispersed. They moved to the roof's edge and stepped off without hesitation. Instead of falling, electricity crackled around their bodies, forming electromagnetic fields that propelled them through the night sky at frightening speeds.
As they approached their targets, security systems sputtered and died, cameras blinking out and alarms falling silent. The electrical interference generated by their bodies overwhelmed any electronic security, creating dead zones wherever they travelled.
At their designated targets, they waited with their eyes fixed on their watches, counting down the minutes until it was time to strike. Once the first seven substations were crippled, they would need to hit the last five quickly before the authorities responded.
London's sprawling electrical network would fail once the synchronised attack disrupted these critical nodes in the National Grid's transmission system. Genuine chaos would engulf the capital, serving as a suitable distraction. Several cultists were spread throughout the city, waiting to add to it.
The vessel stood ready, and soon his resurrection would be complete.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
The war room buzzed with tension. They were situated in the house next door to Grimmauld Place that Harry had bought previously. Unlike the Black house, they had access to mundane communication, which would allow them to stay in contact with the non-magical authorities.
Harry had informed Kingsley and the Queen of the situation, and they had promised to offer support in the upcoming conflict. They were waiting on standby, as Harry didn't know how the situation would play out tonight.
Maps covered every wall, each marked with potential targets and defensive positions. Harry stood at the head of a long table, with Jugo and his Kannagi practitioners on one side and Catherine's team on the other. Daphne and Ayano flanked Harry.
"We're still missing critical information," Harry said, tapping the map of southern England. "Without knowing where Typhoon will perform his ritual, we're just guessing."
Jugo nodded, his face grim. “The winter solstice will enhance any rituals done tonight, especially around its peak at nine-thirty.”
"We don’t have much time," Daphne murmured.
Catherine leaned forward. "My sources suggest several possible locations."
She circled three areas on the map. "Avebury, Glastonbury Tor, or West Kennet Long Barrow. All have the necessary ley line convergences."
"But no confirmation," Harry said.
The room fell silent as a cold breeze swept through, papers fluttering across the table. Kaze materialised beside Harry.
"I found him," Kaze announced. "Stonehenge."
Harry straightened. "You're certain?"
"Yes. Typhoon tried to mask his presence, but he couldn’t hide it from me." Kaze's form rippled with agitation. "They've already begun the preliminary ritual."
"Stonehenge makes sense," Catherine said, circling a new location on the map. "The site sits at the intersection of multiple ley lines.”
Harry turned to address the room. "We need two teams. Defensive and assault."
He assigned guards to the orphanage, Andromeda and Narcissa to watch over Teddy and Delphini, and positioned the remaining forces at strategic locations. Daphne would coordinate from here, relaying any critical information to them.
"The assault team will consist of—" Harry began, but stopped as the lights flickered, then died completely.
The room stood in darkness before wandlights illuminated concerned faces.
"What was that?" Ayano asked.
Harry rushed outside and ascended into the air. From his vantage point high, the scale of the disaster unfolded before him. All of London lay shrouded in darkness, stretching to the horizon in every direction. The usual glow of streetlights and buildings had vanished, replaced by an eerie darkness broken only by the headlights of vehicles stuck in growing gridlock.
Already, the sounds of chaos reached his ears—car horns blaring in frustration and distant alarms. Without traffic signals, major intersections had become snarled messes of vehicles.
Harry descended rapidly and burst back through the door of the operations room.
"All of London's in blackout," he announced. "The entire city's gone dark."
“What are the chances of that happening?” Daphne asked.
“Remote,” Catherine said. “A severe winter storm could knock out the grid, but the weather’s pretty mild tonight.”
Harry exchanged glances with Kaze. "Someone is targeting the power stations."
"Creating chaos," Jugo agreed. "A distraction."
"We need to move now," Harry said. "Jugo, Ayano, Catherine—you're with me. We strike directly at Stonehenge. The rest maintain defensive positions.”
Harry gathered his assault team. "We approach quietly and assess the situation before engaging. Catherine, your team flanks from the west. The Kannagi clan from the east. Ayano, Jugo, and I will take the direct approach."
They departed immediately, apparating to a designated point a mile from Stonehenge. The ancient monument stood silhouetted against the twilight sky.
Harry signalled for silence as they crept forward. He surveyed the scene. Figures in dark robes circled the outer ring of stones. At the centre, a platform had been erected, and upon it—
"There," Harry whispered, passing the omnioculars to Ayano. "The vessel."
A young man stood atop the platform, his arms extended. Even from this distance, the unnatural pallor of his skin was visible. His features seemed to shift, as if something beneath the surface strained to break free.
Wind currents surrounded Stonehenge, forming an invisible barrier that distorted the air.
"I count twenty-seven cultists," Catherine murmured.
Jugo's eyes narrowed. "The vessel isn't fully possessed yet. There's still time."
Harry nodded. "Catherine, position your team. Jugo, ready your practitioners. We breach on my signal."
As they moved into position, the first flickers of energy spiralled up from the central stones. A sickly glow illuminated the ritual circle, casting long shadows across the grounds.
Harry raised his hand, about to signal the attack, when the air crackled with electricity. Seven figures descended from the night sky, riding bolts of lightning that scorched the earth where they landed.
"The Balans," Catherine hissed. She quickly named all seven family members.
Marius Balan, massive and imposing, strode toward the ritual circle. Electricity arced between his fingertips, illuminating his face in stark blue-white flashes. The family spread out around the stones.
"Change of plans," Harry said. "Catherine, your team handles the Balans. Keep them occupied. Jugo, your practitioners target the cultists. Ayano, with me—we breach the wind barrier."
Before they could move, lightning struck nearby, throwing them to the ground. Harry rolled, coming up in a defensive stance as Marius Balan approached, electricity wreathing his massive frame.
"The famous Harry Potter," Marius growled, his accent thick. "Your reputation travels far."
"Stand down," Harry warned, wind gathering around his clenched fists. "You have no idea what you're helping to unleash."
Marius laughed. "Power recognises power."
He gestured, and lightning erupted from his hands. Harry deflected it with a compressed wall of air. Behind Marius, the other Balans engaged with Catherine's team, the night splitting with electric discharge and shouts of combat.
Jugo and his practitioners launched their attack, crimson flames cutting through the darkness toward the outer ring of cultists. Several fell immediately, their robes igniting, but others responded with shields and counterspells.
Marius lunged forward, electricity crackling between his massive fists. Harry sidestepped the first punch, feeling the hair on his arms rise from the static discharge. The second caught him in the shoulder, sending a painful shock through his body.
"Too slow, wind-user," Marius taunted, his accent thickening with excitement.
Harry responded with a compressed air blast that knocked Marius back several metres. The Romanian skidded across the damp earth but maintained his footing, digging deep furrows with his heels.
"Impressive," Marius growled. He slammed his fists into the ground.
Lightning erupted in a circular pattern, scorching the grass in a radial blast. Harry leapt upward, avoiding the electrical discharge, but Marius anticipated the move. A bolt shot upward, catching Harry's leg.
Pain lanced through him as Harry crashed back to earth. His muscles spasmed from the electrical current. His right arm was rendered temporarily useless. Marius pressed his advantage, closing the distance with surprising speed for his bulk.
Harry rolled away from a downward punch that cratered the ground where his head had been. He countered with a wind blade that sliced across Marius's chest, drawing first blood.
Marius roared in anger, electricity intensifying around his body until he glowed blue-white in the darkness. The air ionised around him, making breathing difficult as he gathered power.
"You feel it?" Marius grinned, electricity arcing between his teeth. "The power of London flows through me."
He unleashed a concentrated lightning bolt that split the night. Harry met it with a tornado-force gust, the elements colliding in a devastating shockwave that flattened the grass for twenty metres in all directions.
Neither man yielded. Marius poured more electricity into his attack while Harry compressed the air tighter, creating a vacuum barrier that fought to contain the lightning.
Harry's boots slid backward inch by inch, the force threatening to overwhelm him. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he focused entirely on maintaining the barrier.
With his free hand, Harry formed a concentrated wind drill. He couldn't match Marius for raw power—not after the Romanian had absorbed electricity from the substations. But he didn't need to overpower him, just outthink him.
In one fluid motion, Harry dropped his wind barrier and threw himself sideways. Marius's lightning bolt surged into empty air, its release throwing the Romanian off-balance. Before he could recover, Harry struck with the wind drill, driving it through Marius's side where his earlier blade had drawn blood.
Marius screamed as compressed air tore through his body, rupturing organs and shredding tissue. He staggered backward, electricity flickering erratically around his massive frame.
"Impossible," he gasped, blood bubbling at his lips.
Harry didn't give him time to recover. He sent three wind blades in quick succession—throat, chest, abdomen. Each strike landed with surgical precision, the compressed air cutting through flesh and bone.
Marius collapsed to his knees, his glow fading as blood pooled beneath him. He tried to gather one final lightning strike, but his control had shattered.
"You don't understand... what's coming," Marius wheezed, his massive frame toppling forward.
Harry stood over him, breathing heavily. "That’s not something you need to worry about."
Marius Balan shuddered once, then lay still.
Harry fought to catch his breath, scanning the battlefield. Catherine's team still battled the remaining Balans but looked overwhelmed. Only Catherine remained unscathed, riding atop her massive fire construct that delivered devastating blows to her opponent. The crimson flames of her creation scorched the earth wherever it stepped, leaving behind smouldering footprints in the damp grass.
Jugo's team fared better, cutting a path through the cultists with ease. The clan head himself stood at the centre of a ring of flames, dispatching three robed figures with a single sweeping gesture. Not far from him, Ayano moved with deadly grace, Enraiha blazing as she cleaved through defensive shields like paper.
The ritual at Stonehenge's centre continued unabated, the vessel's transformation accelerating with each passing minute.
Kaze hovered at the edge of the barrier, probing for weaknesses. Despite his efforts, the barrier held firm.
"Ayano! The barrier!" Harry shouted over the din of battle. "We need to breach it now!"
Ayano dispatched her final opponent with a brutal downward slash and then sprinted to join him. Together, they approached the wind wall, feeling its resistance increase with each step. The air thickened around them. Twenty metres from the barrier, Harry felt as though he were trying to walk through treacle.
With a wave of his hand, Harry created a pocket of calm around himself and Ayano. The air pressure normalised instantly, allowing them to breathe freely again. Typhoon's influence still pressed against the bubble, but Harry's control of their immediate surroundings gave them a momentary advantage.
"Kaze!" he called.
The wind spirit turned, his form flickering with strain. "I can't break through alone. It’s too powerful.”
Ayano raised Enraiha, the sacred sword's crimson flames intensifying. "What about a combined attack?"
Harry nodded, gathering wind around his fists. "On my mark."
Ayano channelled her flames into Harry's wind, creating a fusion of elements that spiralled into a tightly compressed drill. The heat from their combined power warped the air, creating visible distortions.
Kaze positioned himself directly opposite them, his hands pressed against the barrier's inner surface. "Ready."
"Now!" Harry shouted.
They struck simultaneously—Harry and Ayano from outside, Kaze from within. Their elemental powers converged on a single point, straining against Typhoon's defences. For several agonising seconds, nothing happened.
Then a hairline crack appeared in the barrier, a faint silver line that spread outward like ice fracturing. Harry poured more power into the attack.
The crack widened, branching into a web of fissures across the barrier's surface. Ayano's flames found these weak points, seeping through and expanding them from within.
With a sound like shattering glass, a section of the barrier collapsed inward. Harry and Ayano leapt through before it could reform, landing inside the ancient stone circle.
The temperature dropped sharply, their breath misting before their faces despite it being a mild December night. The ground beneath their feet thrummed with energy drawn from the ley lines converging beneath Stonehenge.
Inside the circle, five remaining cultists continued their chant, oblivious to the breach in their defences. At the centre, the vessel convulsed atop the altar, his back arching at an impossible angle.
Burke stood beside the altar, a ceremonial dagger clutched in his right hand. His left palm was sliced open, blood dripping onto the stone. When he saw Harry and Ayano, his eyes widened momentarily before narrowing with determination.
"You're too late," he called, raising the dagger. "The binding is nearly complete."
Behind him, the vessel's skin split along his spine, revealing swirling turbulence beneath the human exterior. Wind howled from the opening, carrying the unmistakable presence of Typhoon.
The vessel opened its eyes. "I RETURN!"
The ground trembled beneath their feet. The stones vibrated, dust and fragments falling from their weathered surfaces. The remaining cultists dropped to their knees, pressing their foreheads to the earth in supplication.
The young man's body continued to transform, shoulders widening and spine elongating as Typhoon's essence poured into his human shell. Wind currents formed visible patterns around him, distorting the air like heat waves off a summer pavement.
Burke backed away, his ceremonial role complete. Blood still dripped from his palm, but his expression showed no pain—only reverence mixed with fear as he witnessed the fruit of his labours.
“Bloody wind,” Harry muttered. “Somehow, I knew it would turn out like this.”
So, what do you think? In the next chapter, the climax of the battle and the aftermath.
Thanks for reading.
