Wyzett did not reappear on Frigg's back. He could still hear Luna's anxious voice drifting through the air: "Frigg, can't he come back to me?"
The black membrane of malice, now outside his body, began to crumble like weathered sandstone—disintegrating into tiny flecks of black dust, swept away by the wind.
Wyzett sensed the eight-legged divine steed drawing near, only to be pushed back each time by the ever-eroding black shroud.
"It still isn't working…" Luna's voice was tinged with panic.
Hearing that panic, Wyzett's own heart twisted with worry. He hated the thought of Luna being afraid for him.
He tried to raise his hand, to at least give her a sign—a reassurance that she needn't worry. But no matter how fiercely he willed it, the black membrane bound him like a mummy's wrappings, stifling every movement.
He forced himself to think calmly. There was still a long way to fall—plenty of time to try other ways to break free.
"I have to save him! I have to save him! I can't let that happen again!" Luna whispered fiercely, voice growing steadier with every repetition. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
Invisible forces stirred around Wyzett, but the black membrane blocked them all.
"If ordinary magic doesn't work, what about ancient magic?" she wondered aloud.
Sensing the direction of Luna's spell, Wyzett quickly adjusted his strategy. A new plan was already forming: Ancient Magic: Projectile Mastery.
He gathered the ancient magic in his hand, willing his fingers to clench into a fist—to shatter the black membrane's hold.
The grip of malice was stubborn, but it could not withstand Wyzett's resolve.
Bit by bit, he forced his hand to close. Like water wearing down stone, determination finally won out—his fist closed tight, then his arm lifted, breaking through the shroud's restraint.
"No, I need to think—there must be another way!" Luna had found her composure again, murmuring as she searched for a solution.
Both of them knew: what mattered most now was keeping calm.
"That spell… the one that makes people float! I'll get it right this time! Mum's notes said… a strong wish!"
She pressed her cold left palm to her cheek, the chill anchoring her focus.
She kept encouraging herself, letting her words gather and crystallize into an ancient magic incantation: "Læviasa!"
This time, the spell—though it had failed before—summoned a gentle current of air, lifting Wyzett with surprising tenderness.
Even the black membrane could not withstand such gentleness.
He heard Luna's voice, felt the push of that magic at his back. Strength welled up within him, and he raised his wand with all his might.
The malice binding his arm shattered in an instant, fragments dissolving into nothing as they floated away.
"Mundus Totalus!" Wyzett intoned, calm and clear. A magical vortex swept over him, driving away the last remnants of the black shroud.
At that moment, The Wizard's Practical Combat Guide flared open in his mind, and new words appeared on its once-blank page:
Primordial Power: Obscurus Form (Basic): Malice purged, return to the primordial state… Cast Custodis Meditatio (Guardian's Meditation) … Release a fraction of primordial Obscurus power…
A flash of lightning seemed to arc through his mind, and his thoughts spun back to that swirling, prismatic world.
He saw again the process by which pure darkness became tainted—and finally understood.
The Obscurus was what it was because of the malevolent curse cast by that skeletal figure.
When a wizard suppressed their magic and became an Obscurial, they were bound to the Obscurus—and together, cursed by malice.
But now, aided by the sphere of white light, Wyzett had purified the curse. Even if he used Dark Magic again, no further malice would invade him.
More than that—through Custodis Meditatio, he could now draw on the Obscurus's power as an ally.
For instance…
Primordial Power: Obscurus Form (Basic)!
He felt the Obscurus core within him tremble violently, but it no longer radiated malice. The chains binding it loosened.
Black energy poured from his body. His eyes deepened, as pure as polished black crystal.
Tendrils of darkness curled around him, lifting him effortlessly into the air.
It felt more natural than flying on a broomstick—one thought, and he could twist, turn, soar in any direction he wished.
But Wyzett didn't waste time experimenting. He flew straight to Luna, extending his arm, palm up.
She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before resting her hand in his.
Their palms met, both slick with a cool, nervous sweat.
Wyzett felt his ears flush, his neck growing hot.
Luna's palm was even cooler. When her fingertips brushed his wrist, it was like a breeze on a summer night—cooling his skin, leaving only comfort behind.
He exhaled, trying to let the black energy envelop Luna, wanting her to fly with him.
But he could only spare a few wisps—nowhere near enough to shield her completely.
Luna noticed, her voice soft: "Maybe we should go down to the ground?"
"I want to try one more thing…" Wyzett replied. He focused, using Transfiguration to mold the black energy beneath their feet into two floating platforms.
The moment Luna saw them, she leapt without hesitation, landing lightly on the black energy.
Their eyes met. Luna was visibly more relaxed, gazing curiously around, then looking down at the tiny, block-like villages below. Her laughter chimed like wind bells.
"We're just like stars, aren't we? Hanging high in the sky, peeking carefully down at the world below."
Wyzett was certainly being careful—he gripped Luna's hands tightly, not daring to let go for even a second.
He felt a little short of breath—after all, the World Tree was gone; it was only natural to feel a bit dizzy.
Luna squeezed his hands. Hers felt so warm—not just her palms, but right to her fingertips, as if wrapped in firelight on a winter's night. Her heart thudded erratically in her chest.
Wyzett stammered, embarrassed, "For now… I think we'll just have to stand here like this."
"Mhm!" Luna beamed. "This is perfect. The future's still so long, isn't it?"
...
The two of them returned to Frigg's back and finally touched down on solid ground.
Xenophilius rushed over at once, circling Luna in a flurry of worry. "Sweetheart, are you hurt anywhere?"
"Should we take you to St. Mungo's? If you feel even a little unwell, you must tell me… Did you catch a chill up there? Why are your ears so red…"
He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. "Hmm… Feels alright… I think Wyzett has some Pepperup Potion—let's all have a dose when we get home…"
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