NOVPUB
Chapter 171 - “The Judgment of Shadows”
"The Judgment of Shadows"
Stephen woke up in the midst of darkness.
All around him was an oppressive void"formless, silent"except for a faint light in the distance.
Curiosity, or perhaps something deeper, pulled him toward it.
As he approached, the light revealed a crystal coffin. Inside lay a woman.
Her face bore primitive features: thick lips, high cheekbones, and a robust bone structure"like someone from the dawn of humanity.
"She must seem... grotesque to you. At least by today's standards of beauty," said a voice behind him.
Stephen turned immediately, on guard. He tried to summon magic, but nothing responded.
But what truly stunned him was what he saw: a man who was... himself.
An older version, with eyes dulled by time and a face devoid of emotion.
The figure walked toward the coffin and, for the first time, let a trace of emotion slip.
He stopped in front of the crystal and touched it carefully. Instantly, the figure within began to change.
Her features softened. Her skin grew smooth. Her hair, black as the abyss, flowed around her like a crown of shadows.
She was now a vision of beauty"perfect, almost unreal.
"This is how I see her... how she would have looked, had she stayed alive," the man said, caressing the surface of the glass with reverence. "Beautiful, isn't she? Her spirit was strong. Violent, even. But she loved like no one else."
"I don't think my partner would appreciate me hearing another man speak that way about a woman," Stephen said, uneasy and skeptical.
The other man smiled, for the first time.
"Afraid of your partner... in that, we haven't changed. We were gods, you know? But one word from our wives and we'd obey without hesitation.
We were seven fools with power... who abandoned the only ones warning us of disaster.
If only we had listened, maybe... we'd still be together."
His voice cracked at the end. It was as if each word bled guilt.
"Is that why you devoured them? For ignoring their women?"
"No," he answered coldly, his eyes locking onto Stephen's. "Remember this, boy: history is written by the victors.
And I... was the loser."
"You're not going to convince me you were the good guy," Stephen replied, his tone dry. "Not when someone lost an arm because of your last visit."
The man sighed.
"You should pay more attention, Stephen," he said, with the same look Stephen used to give Wanda when she did something foolish.
Before he could reply, the darkness around them began to stir, as if it were alive.
"It's time for you to go. But listen closely... There's a reason only six are ever born.
And that being you saw... is no longer a child of this world."
He raised a hand. An invisible force hurled Stephen backward, tearing him away from that place.
He woke with a start in his bed, his head throbbing in pain.
Sweat soaked his back. It took several seconds to catch his breath.
"Great... now I'm the one with prophetic nightmares," he grumbled, pressing a hand to his forehead. He tried to remember every detail.
"Bah... screw it. I'll think about it later," he muttered, collapsing back onto the pillow.
...
The next morning, the atmosphere was peaceful. In the breakfast common room, Stephen sat at the teachers' section, even though he wasn't one.
Wanda was teasing Natasha, and fortunately for Stephen, that kept her distracted.
He, on the other hand, couldn't shake the man's words or the memory of the battle against the dark god.
"Hey, Stephen, what do you think?" Wanda asked, her cheeks puffed out after a pinch from Natasha.
Stephen looked at her, hesitating. He didn't have all the facts yet, so he chose to remain quiet.
"I was just thinking... a Gryffindor and a Slytherin together is already scandalous.
Can't wait to see what happens when it's a teacher and a student," he said with a crooked smile, glancing toward Daphne, sitting at the Slytherin table.
"Hey! I'm technically not a teacher," Wanda replied.
"And I don't think that rule even exists... at least not in magical schools," she quickly added.
Stephen was about to reply when all the magicphones started ringing.
An alert flashed on his device. As he read it, his face turned completely serious.
"Be right back," he said in a flat voice, opening a portal behind him and vanishing in the blink of an eye.
...
The air was thick with fear when Stephen emerged in front of Beauxbatons Castle.
Chaos ruled. Wizards and witches from the nearby village fled toward the school, screaming in terror.
Explosions shook the horizon. Missiles streaked across the sky, crashing into the magical barriers.
Aurors, teachers, and French magical soldiers were forming defensive lines. The ground quaked beneath them.
"Stephen! Please, help evacuate the students!" Madame Maxime shouted, running toward him with terror written all over her face.
"What's going on?" he asked, watching as fighter jets circled like vultures above.
"We don't know. The Muggle army appeared without warning... and started attacking," she replied, breathless.
Stephen didn't hesitate.
He began opening portals, one after another, guiding students and civilians through them.
The castle's barriers were weakening, and the nearby town had already been reduced to ashes.
It was a surprise attack.
Minutes later, after evacuating most of the people, he remained behind. He needed to understand what the hell had just happened.
A helicopter descended, loaded with weaponry. A voice echoed through a loudspeaker:
"Turn them over. Or be eliminated along with the terrorists."
Stephen turned to the aurors.
"Terrorists?"
No one answered. No one knew.
Stephen pulled out his phone and dialed.
"Tony..."
"Give me a minute," Tony replied instantly, his voice hurried.
Meanwhile, Stephen raised his hands and began invoking more complex magical barriers, forming a dome to reinforce the castle's defenses.
Then, his phone buzzed. A notification.
As he read the message, his expression hardened.
His eyes turned cold.
Stephen closed his eyes for a moment as he processed the latest data on his phone. The story he had received from Tony wasn't just a warning"it was a detailed reconstruction of events, complete with records, intercepted communications, and recordings.
"I see now..." he murmured in a grave tone.
"What is it?" Maxime pressed.
Stephen looked up, and for the first time, he truly seemed tired. Not physically... but in his soul. As if the weight of disappointment had withered his spirit.
"Two weeks ago, a group of new Beauxbatons students disappeared right after receiving their acceptance letters. They were captured by a covert military unit."
Maxime looked at him in horror.
"What?! How didn't we hear about this?"
"They covered it up well," he replied bitterly. "They moved them from country to country, until finally locking them up in a secret facility. But they escaped. Badly injured, starving... but alive. The German Ministry of Magic found them and, thinking they were underage wizards using illegal magic, interrogated them. That's when they told their story."
Maxime could barely breathe.
"What did they see...?"
Stephen made a motion in the air, and several images materialized, floating before them. Magical projections showed surveillance rooms, operating tables, bodies marked by spells ripped out as if they were organs...
"Experiments," he muttered through clenched teeth. "They were studying how our magic works. Trying to replicate it... control it.
Those children... they weren't the only ones. They no longer care whether we're criminals or innocents."
Maxime clutched her chest, pale.
"But... we're trying to make peace!" she exclaimed quickly.
France was one of the few magical ministries genuinely fighting for peace with the non-magical world.
Stephen nodded.
"Yes... but the muggle governments see us as weapons. Or threats. So, when the kids escaped and returned... it didn't take long for them to fabricate a story."
With another gesture, a news projection appeared. A stern-faced news anchor spoke: 𝓷ℴ𝓿𝓹𝓾𝒷.𝓬𝓸𝓂
"The group of young terrorists who escaped a containment facility in Eastern Europe has been linked to biotechnological attacks and international sabotage. Their immediate capture is requested."
"They called them bioterrorists. Said they fled with dangerous secrets. And now... they're using that as an excuse to attack Beauxbatons. To 'retrieve' them."
Maxime stepped back, staggering.
"But... they didn't come here... how did they know they were here?"
Stephen clenched his fist tightly.
"I don't know. But this reeks of a planned provocation. Someone wants this war to start."
His voice became solemn, filled with restrained fury.
"It's the perfect move. If we respond with violence, we confirm their narrative. If we do nothing... they destroy us from within. But this time..." Stephen looked up, his eyes blazing with incandescent determination, "...this time, we're not playing their game."
At that moment, an explosion rumbled across the field. One of the shields trembled. From the sky, planes descended. Parachutists with rifles fell like a rain of steel.
Stephen stepped forward. His face hardened like stone.
"But if we don't strike back... we show weakness.
I guess I'm no longer a defender. Or a hero... Well, I never wanted to be one anyway."
"What are you going to do?" asked Maxime, not fully understanding.
"Give a warning," he said with a crooked, almost malicious smile. "I'm sure the Ministries of Magic will thank me. It'll make their peace treaties easier."
And without another word, he began to rise into the sky, under the astonished gazes of those around him.
The soldiers in the planes saw him too.
Stephen turned in the air, extending his hands. With a forbidden spell, he tore open the firmament. A circle of pure darkness opened above the field. The energy of the very Void responded to his call.
"Ugh... my brothers and sisters are going to hate me for this.
Shadows of Dormammu!"
The sky darkened instantly. Not just over Beauxbatons... but over the entire world.
A dome of pure darkness enveloped the planet. There was no wind. No sound. Only an overwhelming silence.
Then, cosmic eyes began to appear, suspended in the air, watching unblinkingly.
They were not the eyes of a tangible creature, but manifestations of Dormammu himself, the eternal being of the Void.
The sense of presence was crushing. It didn't attack. It didn't destroy. But it made any human, no matter how trained, feel small. As if the very universe was judging them.
The mind filled with uncomfortable thoughts... of how useless any army was against something that defied reality itself.
Many soldiers fell to their knees, trembling. They felt as if the ground had ceased to be real.
The spell lasted only a few seconds.
And then, the sun shone again.
The darkness vanished like a fleeting nightmare.
But everyone"wizards and muggles alike"kept staring at the sky in complete silence.
Stephen, completely exhausted by the spell, could barely stand.
And with the last of his magic, he transported all the present wizards away, disappearing from the field.
His final words, soft but thunderous among the troops, were:
"Finish attacking this school... and then, let the world burn... if that's what you want."
......
Meanwhile, deep within a castle whose very existence seemed to devour light, surrounded by beasts and living shadows that fed on despair, a throne made of twisted bones and hardened flesh housed a figure that could barely be called a man.
No healthy skin remained on his body. Only rotten shreds, clinging to his exposed skeleton like laments. Worms crawled freely through the holes in his flesh.
The being looked up at the ceiling, as if seeing through it, and a smile"if the creaking of a decomposing jaw could be called such"spread across his face.
His eyes, darkened blue and filled with ancient madness, gleamed with a mixture of anticipation and sadism.
"Hehehehe... This time will be different... more delicious... more exquisitely atrocious..."
His voice was a drag of rotten air.
"Sublime... yes... a waltz of horror and hopelessness. I hope you don't disappoint me... thief."
And then, he burst into a shrill, decomposed laugh. His cackle bounced off the walls like the screech of a thousand awakened corpses, making the rotting flesh on his face vibrate until it grotesquely deformed. Chunks of skin fell off, and the insects living in his flesh began to drop to the floor.
The beasts in the hall stirred. Some hid in the shadows, others approached the throne in a mixture of fear and worship.
