Jia’s pulse still throbbed with magic and adrenaline, but the brief lull gave her just enough space to think. She slipped through the shadows to the shallow alcove beside an abandoned storefront where her father, Ji-Won, and Goo had taken cover. The distant glow of scorched pavement flickered behind her, but for the moment, the world had exhaled.
Kim’s shoulders eased when he saw her. Ji-Won gave a single nod, arms folded. Goo sat curled between them, clutching her doll, eyes wide but steady.
“She’s holding her own,” Kim murmured to Ji-Won, not quite quietly enough. “Cho hasn’t overwhelmed her.”
Ji-Won didn’t look away from the street. “She’s adapting. This isn’t just combat. It’s a crucible. If we step in too soon, we take that from her.”
“She has to believe it’s her,” Kim said. “Not us.”
“If it tips too far,” he added, glancing at Jia, “we move. Not before.”
Ji-Won nodded once. Decision made.
Jia knelt beside them, catching her breath. She placed a hand on Goo’s back. The girl leaned into her without hesitation, and Jia wrapped an arm around her.
“You okay?” Jia whispered.
Goo only tightened her grip on the doll.
Jia rose and glanced at Ji-Won. “And you?”
“Watching,” Ji-Won said dryly. “Trying not to interfere.”
A drone buzzed overhead.
Kim looked up. “Third one. They’re streaming.”
Jia glanced toward the street. A loose semicircle of onlookers lingered at a distance, phones raised, screens glowing like small moons. “Yeah. We’re trending.”
Kim muttered a charm; a faint shimmer bent the air around their alcove, distorting lenses and signals. “That buys us minutes. Not much more.”
Across the street, Cho stood with several figures clustered around him. Even from here, Jia could read the tension in his posture.
“They’re arguing,” she said.
“Good,” Ji-Won replied. “Let them waste time.”
“Or set a trap,” Kim said. “Either way, we’re ready.”
Jia adjusted the twin amulets at her collarbone, feeling their weight settle into something steadier than fear. “If this restarts, I’m not running.”
Kim met her eyes. Pride flickered there—alongside worry. “Then we stand with you. But remember where we are. If this explodes, it won’t just be sorcerers who get hurt.”
“The more they record,” Ji-Won added, “the harder it becomes to undo.”
Jia nodded. “Then I’ll end it before it gets that far.”
They fell silent. The night pressed in around them.
In the distance, sirens wailed—not close, but coming.
Another drone hummed overhead.
Time was narrowing.
* * *
Cho did not like this.
The late hour had not spared them an audience. Locals gathered at the edges of the street. Phones glowed. Drones hummed overhead. Too many witnesses. Too much exposure.
He could feel the Circle of Thorns behind him—and Goo’s parents a few paces off—measuring his every move. He was accustomed to working alone. This felt crowded. Political.
And dangerous.
Jia was learning too quickly.
The memory rose unbidden: ancient elms, the Shadowed Grove, a duel that should have been simple. His mentor falling. The last warning still clear—
Magic is more than power. It is foresight.
Cho inhaled slowly and forced the past away. He would not underestimate her. Not again.
He turned toward the street where Jia had taken cover.
“We end this now,” he said, voice low but edged. “I can take her. No more delays.”
Sun-Hee stepped forward first. Composed, but tight. “Cho, look around you. This is no longer a private matter. Half the city is recording.”
Min-Ho nodded. “Our family has survived by discretion. A public battle invites scrutiny we cannot control.”
Cho’s jaw tightened. “Every second we hesitate, she grows stronger. Negotiating with them suggests weakness.”
“And charging in suggests recklessness,” Sun-Hee shot back. “What if you provoke them and Goo is caught in it? This is about her safety—not your pride.”
That landed.
Cho didn’t answer immediately.
Min-Ho stepped in before the silence hardened. “There is another option. Show strength. Controlled strength. Enough to remind them who we are—without turning this into a war in the streets.”
Cho studied him. Tactical. Contained escalation.
The Circle of Thorns shifted subtly behind him. Ready. Eager.
Finally, he gave a single nod.
“Fine. We demonstrate. Briefly.” His gaze sharpened. “But if she falters, I finish it.”
Sun-Hee didn’t look relieved. Just resigned.
Above them, another drone buzzed past.
The night was no longer theirs alone.
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