THE UNDOING
The night was unnervingly quiet. No more rumbling engines, no more voices echoing across the grounds. Just the stillness of Eden, vast and empty, stretching endlessly beneath the pale glow of the moon as everyone she created has gone to sleep.
Evangeline stood there, not moving, staring at the gates as if expecting them to swing open again, as if some part of her still hoped to hear the students’ laughter, the chatter, the life that had filled this place only hours ago.
But they were gone.
The fire, the chaos, the carefully orchestrated disaster—everything had served its purpose, and now, it was time to erase it, although she wished they was a way not to.
Inhaling deeply, she braced herself, and turned around, fingers curling slightly before she raised her hands.
A sudden sound filled the air, crackling with energy, as if the world itself resisted what she was about to do. She clenched her teeth, steadying her breath, then began.
*"Abstergo fantasmatem per crystallum veritatis,*
*Et revelo realitatem per ignem discernentiae,*
*Ut lux intellectus dissipet tenebras fallaciae."*
The wind picked up, swirling around her feet, pulling at her dress and hair like unseen hands trying to stop her.
She ignored it and chanted again.
"*Abstergo fantasmatem per crystallum veritatis,*
*Et revelo realitatem per ignem discernentiae,*
*Ut lux intellectus dissipet tenebras fallaciae."*
She felt the nature fighting back, she felt the intense pain inside her, biting at her organs, twisting it so hard she was barely breathing.
One more time.
*"Please, just let me. I give myself in exchange for truth"*
A sharp gust of wind slammed into her chest, almost knocking her back.
Then, the illusion cracked under her.
It started at the top of the west wing—what had once appeared charred and broken because of the fire now wavered, flickering like a mirage. The burnt edges softened, the jagged destruction smoothing out as the stone regrew, knitting itself back together.
The flames that had licked the castle walls only moments ago flickered and died, as if swallowed whole. The soot, the debris, the scent of smoke—it all began to dissolve, vanishing into the night.
Her knees buckled, a sharp, searing pain stabbed through her skull, and before she could stop herself, she collapsed onto the cold stone ground.
Blood dripped steadily from her nose, warm against her skin. Then another sharp sting, and more blood from her ears.
No, no, no.
She forced herself upright, pressing her trembling fingers into the dirt.
The force fought her, desperately clinging to the false reality she had built over the past week.
Her perfect creation undoing that she was now tearing apart.
The security guards standing at their posts flickered out of existence like a candle flame that was put out, as if they had never been there.
The small town followed. The neatly placed houses, the little gardens around it—all of it collapsed inward, fading into nothingness, and the grand halls of Hera Castle revealed themselves again, towering and menancing, the intricate carvings catching the moonlight.
The castle that Tide had worked tirelessly on—the castle that belonged to them—stood in its full, terrifying beauty.
The pale stone façade gleamed, regally and intimidatiny, the spires stretching toward the sky. The numerous chimneys and glass windows that crowned the rooftop were no longer shrouded in an illusion of damage, were no longer broken and burnt black. Instead, they let moon light into the castle
The scent of rich earth filled her lungs, carried by the wind that rustled through the perfectly trimmed hedges and gravel paths.
The real Hera Castle had returned.
And for the payment her vision swam, her muscles locked in place, as if they had forgotten how to move, and blood dripped down her chin, staining the fabric of her dress, and for the first time, a flicker of fear settled in her chest.
What was she expecting? She had broken herself for an illusion that wasn’t even meant for her.
A perfection that took her seven days to build.
And only one night to erase it with her life at stake.
She laughed bitterly.
Gray witches weren’t made for this kind of magic. They were never meant to manipulate illusions, never meant to bend reality to their own will.
It was why their mother had died.
The last war had taken her—not from a blade, not from an enemy’s hand, but from her own power draining the very life out of her because she had turn deaf to everyone's warning and decided to sacrifice herself to save their kingdom and the king from its enemy. Creating wasn't always the problem. It was undoing it.
And it seemed she keep making the same mistake.
The castle stood perfect before her now. It was as if she had never dared to alter it in the first place.
But she had. And it had cost her more than she was willing to admit.
She exhaled shakily, pressing her palm against the ground in an attempt to ground herself.
Her heartbeat pounded violently in her ears, drowning out the silence of the castle grounds. She had to get in before they all come back. Which will be soon.
With sheer force of will, she pushed herself onto her feet, swaying slightly as her body protested.
Her legs felt like lead, her skin cold, but she forced one foot forward.
Then another and another.
The blood had yet to stop. She wiped it with the back of her hand, the warmth smeared across her fingers, staining them deep red.
The masters were coming.
She needed to be inside before they arrived. She stumbled toward the grand doors of the main castle, her breath ragged, her dress heavy against her limbs.
The moment she reached them, she barely managed to push them open wide enough to slip through.
The warmth of the grand hall welcomed her, drying out the sweat in her skin even before she felt it.
The magic inside her flickered dangerously, on the verge of burning out completely as she limped towards the stairs to start an excruciating journey to the third floor.
Oh goodness! Now she wished she thought this through really hard and just minded her business, Instead of trying to do something.