Bodrum Castle, that massive stone structure which had protected the memories of the Knights of St. John, the salt of the sea, and the Aegean’s largest archive of magic for centuries, was dying beneath a green apocalypse. Nazir was taking out his fury over losing the Fifth Port at the Mausoleum not by hiding, but by striking directly at the heart of the Ministry. Thousands of Carian skeletons, their eyes glowing with a rotten green light and their rusted bronze swords, were climbing the walls of the castle. The famous golden defense shields (Protego Maxima) woven by the Ministry had cracked and shattered like glass under the weight of Nazir’s endless army of the dead. As flames rose from the castle’s French Tower, the official Aurors were retreating, screaming. Okan was casting explosive curses one after another with his wand, but every skeleton he blew up reassembled in seconds and kept coming at him. Sina had collapsed to the ground, his nose bleeding due to the dense smell of death magic around them; Vera was trying to protect him with a desperate illusion shield. Barlas was trying to hold the rampart gate with white lightning shooting from the silver head of his wand, but his hunter arrogance was completely broken. Before his eyes, that unshakable system he believed in, the laws, and the Ministry were being torn to pieces. Nazir, down below, standing at the entrance of the bridge, was directing the fall of the castle, waving his hands in the air like an orchestra conductor. “Barlas!” shouted Vera, shouldering Sina and dragging him. “The tower has fallen! The main archive is burning! We can’t hold this place!” Gritting his teeth, Barlas lowered his wand. His face was covered in soot, blood, and defeat. “Evacuation protocol,” he whispered, his voice trembling. Then he shouted so it echoed across the entire courtyard: “Everyone evacuate! The castle has fallen! Apparate outside the boundary!” As Barlas took his men and apparated away from that green hell at the last second, they left behind the complete fall of the Bodrum Ministry of Magic into Nazir’s hands. The fierce rain pounding the İçmeler Shipyard was not enough to wash away the blood of the night. On the lower deck of Alaz’s rusty yacht, a deadly silence and the smell of gunpowder reigned. Efsun’s radio hadn’t been silent for hours; the fall of the castle, the panicked screams of the Aurors, and the collapse of the Ministry flooded into the room through the frequencies. Darius stood by the map, listening to the radio without a muscle twitching on his face. When his earpiece crackled, Kuzey’s ice-cold voice came from outside: “They’re here. Four of them. Weapons in their hands, but all four can barely stand.” “Let them in,” said Darius. The heavy, steel door of the yacht creaked open. When Barlas, Vera, Okan, and Sina stepped inside, there was no trace of that arrogant “Inquisition” squad from the Mausoleum. They were soaking wet, their robes in tatters, their faces filled with despair. The moment they entered, Meltem’s two curved knives locked onto Okan’s jugular and Barlas’s chest with lightning speed. Lidya, meanwhile, emerged from the shadows and pressed her ice cold silver rings against the back of Vera’s neck. Okan reflexively went for his wand, but Meltem pressed her knife with a millimeter movement. “If even a single muscle twitches,” whispered Meltem, “I’ll turn you into a pile of meat that even those skeletons would envy.” “Lower your weapons,” said Darius, straightening up from the table and approaching Barlas with heavy steps. “This is not a Ministry dungeon. And you no longer have a Ministry.” Barlas tried to stand tall despite the knife at his chest, looking straight into Darius’s eyes. Then, he did something unexpected. He let go of his silver-headed wand. The wand fell to the steel floor of the yacht with a clatter. “You’re right,” said Barlas, his voice tired and defeated. “The castle has fallen. Archives, weapon depots, safe houses... All in Nazir’s hands. Half the official Aurors are dead, the rest have fled the island. Bodrum belongs to him now.” Darius scrutinized Barlas without narrowing his eyes. “You attacked me from behind at the Mausoleum. You said, ‘The Ministry never makes alliances, it only uses.’ What changed now, Barlas? Why did you tuck your tail and seek refuge in my rusty boat?” “Because the rules are dead, Widdershins,” said Barlas, swallowing hard. He looked at Sina’s trembling body in the corner, at Vera’s blankly staring eyes. “As the Ministry, we were fighting that man with rules. But that man recognizes no rules. He bends death. He has taken over the city.” Barlas turned his eyes back to Darius. “You don’t have rules either. You are just as dark as he is. The only thing that can stop him is you, who are more ruthless than he is. My intelligence, my tactical knowledge, and my men... All at your command. Let’s just destroy that monster.” The room stopped breathing for a moment. Meltem slowly lowered her knives but did not step back. Kuzey watched them silently from the doorframe, resting his massive, illegal ebony wand on his shoulder. Darius bent down and picked up Barlas’s silver wand from the floor. He shoved the wand back into the hunter’s hand roughly. “You are not under my command,” said Darius, his voice as cold and sharp as rusty nails. “Because I am not a commander. We are no longer soldiers, Barlas. We are ghosts fighting against a demon who has invaded our home.” Darius turned to the table, to the shattered map of Bodrum. He stabbed a black dagger onto the castle that Nazir had captured. “Four Ports left,” said Darius, looking at everyone at the table—both CORE and Inquisition members. “Nazir is in the castle. He has secured himself, established a protected throne with his army of the dead. He will try to open the remaining Ports without leaving the castle, by sending that bone army or using the mortals he has captured.” “Sina’s sense of smell has weakened, but it still works,” said Barlas, approaching the map. Betrayal was left behind, replaced by a pure partnership of survival. “If we catch those magic signals Nazir sends out from the castle, we can find the locations of the remaining four Ports before he reaches them.” “Good,” said Darius, the hunter’s fire in his eyes igniting once more. “Alaz, start the yacht’s engines. If we stay stationary, they’ll find us. Efsun, tune the frequencies strictly to Sina’s mental radar.” Darius threw his robe over his shoulders and drew his wand. He looked at Barlas and the others one last time with deadly seriousness. “Welcome to the underground. No more badges, no more laws, no more boundaries. We are taking Bodrum back from hell.” 45Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6xyB7Uxnn4
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