Midnight's darkness had just settled when the sky was abruptly torn open—lightning, blazing and spherical, enveloped Wyzett, holding back the first, devastating surge of the sea.
Within him, the Obscurus core churned more violently than ever. Countless malevolent thoughts seemed to fuse into a second tsunami, crashing against Wyzett's mind.
But at that very moment, the Soul Labyrinth within him blazed with radiant light. The goddess statue at its center hurled forth the moon, facing the onslaught of malice head-on.
As those wicked thoughts surged, Luna seemed to sense it too. She pressed her hands tightly together in a silent prayer.
Suddenly, the mistletoe bracelet on her wrist flared with a glow like polished red agate—warm as the first rays of sunrise breaking over the horizon.
At the same time, the bracelet on Wyzett's wrist pulsed with identical light.
Within the Soul Labyrinth, the moon cast by the goddess statue was tinged with that same red-agate glow, instantly dispelling the tidal wave of ill intent.
The abrupt turn of events caught Wyzett completely off guard. The sinister thoughts that had seemed so overwhelming simply melted away, vanishing as quietly as they'd come.
A gentle warmth, like the dawn, flooded his heart.
With the crisis in the Soul Labyrinth resolved, Wyzett could finally focus all his will on the surging waves.
He snapped open his eyes and called out the incantation once more, his voice ringing with unwavering resolve: "Ansuz!"
The sphere of lightning around him swelled, driving the crashing waters back.
In a heartbeat, the crown of the World Tree was engulfed in blinding, spherical lightning.
The mistletoe bracelet maintained its gentle, amber-red glow, forming a protective shell that shielded Luna and Frigg from the raging storm—untouched by even a spark.
Beyond the barrier, vapor billowed and swirled. Bolts of plasma lashed outward like wild, silver-blue serpents.
As the storm raged, Wyzett felt his senses expanding—spreading outward from the World Tree's crown, touching the world below.
He could sense Xenophilius at the tree's roots, face frozen in shock, muttering, "My precious girl won't get hurt, will she? She can't. She won't!"
He could feel Dumbledore thoughtfully stroking his beard, half-moon spectacles flickering with reflected lightning, a faint smile playing at his lips.
He even sensed the wizards—restored to human form—gathering around Dumbledore, huddling close, gazes fixed on the crown of the World Tree, their eyes brimming with awe.
...
Yet even now, Wyzett knew this power was not enough. He needed something more—something extraordinary.
As if in answer, the Odin ruins on the island began to tremble. Countless threads of white light burst forth, swirling together and forming a glowing sphere before him.
When the final wisp of light emerged, the Odin ruins crumbled, eroded by invisible winds—one moment a grand relic, the next, nothing but dust on the breeze.
...
His consciousness was pulled once more into that prismatic world, where pure white light filled the abyss of black.
The skeletal figure was submerged within, its tattered robes sprouting a forest of bone claws, grasping desperately to escape.
The upright figure—spear in hand—cast a single seed to one side. The seed floated in midair, sprouting and growing in a blink into a towering tree.
The World Tree.
The upright figure lifted his gaze, pouring forth a final surge of longing and bittersweet attachment.
Only as the skeletal figure nearly broke free did the upright one lower his eyes, drive the spear through himself, and let the World Tree's branches twist around him, suspending him upside down.
Blood dripped from the spear, transforming into streams of earth and water, burying the skeletal figure beneath...
...
Wyzett's awareness snapped back. He looked up—and the upright figure now stood before him.
The figure reached out, gently touching Wyzett's brow with a single finger.
It was as if that touch contained all that he was. As soon as the gesture was complete, the figure faded away, leaving nothing behind.
Dazzling lightning flashed through Wyzett's mind, leaving him feeling as if he'd lived lifetimes in a single instant. In that touch, he sensed something utterly new.
He looked at the spear in his hand, at the glowing sphere before him, at the distant, raging waves, and farther still—the endless sky.
At last, he hurled the spear skyward, raised his wand—this was what felt most natural, the purest vessel for his will.
Closing his eyes, Wyzett poured his intent through the wand into the spear, and the spear sent it rippling outward.
The spear trembled violently. With a clear, ringing note, it shattered—the shaft dissolving into a cascade of runes, the ice-crystal spearhead becoming a core of pure lightning.
The core quivered, as if longing to return to Wyzett, but met some unseen resistance. Reluctantly, it veered away, soaring behind him.
The runes on the shaft moved in the opposite direction, merging into the sphere of white light, absorbing the surrounding lightning and coalescing into a colossal, humanoid figure.
The instant the giant appeared, the raging sea stilled, as if cowed by its presence.
With the runes and the sphere united, Wyzett forged a bond through his wand—his will entwined with the giant.
He drew a deep breath, pointed his wand at the sky—the giant mirrored his every movement.
With a sweeping motion, he slashed his wand downward. The giant responded at once. From the heavens, a thunderbolt of unimaginable scale crashed down, guided by the giant's hand, striking the heart of the surging sea.
For a moment, it was as if a nuclear sun had detonated—Stockholm bathed in blinding white.
Countless people awoke, their rooms lit as if by midday, staring in speechless shock.
Beneath the World Tree, Dumbledore swept his wand, conjuring a magical field as dark as sunglasses to shield them from the searing glare.
He smiled, gazing upward, as if his eyes could pierce the magical field, the World Tree's crown, and find Wyzett standing with his wand raised to the sky.
...
The giant's thunderbolt shattered the waves, dispersing them utterly. Water vapor soared, forming a mountain of clouds overhead.
Ten long seconds passed before the thunder's light finally faded.
And with it, the World Tree vanished.
It was as if time had reversed for the ancient tree, leaving behind only a single, miraculous cloud. Its trunk and branches—like Devil's Snare recoiling from sunlight—curled in on themselves, plunging into the earth and disappearing without a trace.
After releasing the thunderbolt, the giant became insubstantial—like a robe of white light, drifting down to settle over Wyzett.
Within him, the Obscurus core trembled, as if in awe of the luminous shroud.
The white light grew thinner, gradually merging with Wyzett's body.
The Obscurus core's trembling intensified, as if a silent exchange was taking place. Malice surged out, wrapping him in a membrane of darkness.
Wyzett gripped his wand tightly, but suddenly the world went black—his strength evaporated, and he began to fall.
He could see nothing, yet felt no fear. He knew Luna was near.
He sensed warmth at his wrist—the call of Frigg through the bracelet.
But that warmth lasted only an instant, severed by the encroaching blackness...
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