Deep in the Forbidden Forest.
Luster's form shimmered into view without a sound, and right beside her stood a tall old man with silver hair and a matching beard, decked out in deep-purple pajamas and a nightcap to match.
Not even half a second later, a burst of scarlet flame bloomed out of nowhere in midair.
From it soared a magnificent crimson bird.
It wheeled once overhead before gliding down to hover above the fallen unicorn.
Drip. Drip.
Two crystal-clear tears fell, one landing on the unicorn's forehead, the other on her belly.
"Fawkes?"
Lucien and Newt both looked up at the unmistakably iconic phoenix—and spotted Dumbledore standing next to Luster.
But the three of them didn't exchange a word, just gave a quick nod.
Lucien and Newt kept at it, focused on performing the C-section on Selene.
Dumbledore's expression was grave as he glanced at the strange creature beside him, rapidly processing the info she'd relayed.
A century-old wizard getting yanked awake in his office by some unknown flying beast? Shocking enough on its own.
But the way that creature had communicated—telepathically, almost—had floored him even more.
Once he'd seen that special permit Lucien had flashed, Dumbledore had grudgingly bought her story.
Then she'd whisked him straight out of Hogwarts Castle and into the Forbidden Forest with something like Apparition.
Just like Fawkes, she bypassed the castle's wards—but faster!
Now, seeing the creature's "master"—Lucien—and his old friend Newt?
Dumbledore knew he wasn't dreaming.
He hurried over to the gravely wounded unicorn and drew his peculiar Elder Wand.
This time, Astrion didn't flinch from the sidelines—Luster had explained it all to him in a flash.
Spells bloomed from the wand's tip: some to scan the unicorn's injuries, others to clear distractions for Lucien and Newt...
Dumbledore quickly pieced together the situation, cross-referencing it with what Luster had described.
His bright blue eyes gleamed as he headed to the workbench cluttered with potion gear.
With a flick of his wand, extra materials materialized on the table.
Elder Wand in hand, he orchestrated a whirlwind of ingredients, handling them with precise, effortless order.
Right now, he was brewing a potion to detoxify the female unicorn.
That combo poison was a real nightmare, but for Dumbledore...
He just didn't need the title of Potions Master—his accolades were stacked enough as it was.
Meanwhile.
The C-section had cleared its tensest phase. Lucien realized he wasn't needed for backup anymore—Newt could handle the rest solo.
"Mr. Newt, I'd like to prep some treatment for the little unicorn."
Lucien laid it out plain and simple.
Newt's hands didn't falter, but a shadow dimmed his downcast eyes.
He knew the dire straits of this soon-to-be-born foal. All their efforts now were really about saving the mother—Selene's—life.
The severed magic circuits? They'd doom the little one to unimaginable agony. Repairing them...
But feeling the steel in Lucien's voice, Newt couldn't bring himself to crush that hope.
Truth be told, Newt wanted to believe too—clinging to that elusive spark of luck.
"Yeah, go ahead. I got the rest."
With Newt's go-ahead, Lucien stood and headed to the workbench.
"Headmaster, I need to borrow the Sorcerer's Stone..."
Before he could finish, that familiar translucent red gem hovered right in front of him.
"Do what you need to."
Lucien took the Stone and stepped to a clear spot nearby.
He pulled out a small purple gourd and flicked his wand, summoning his own workbench.
In his mind, he ran through the broad strokes of the Magic Weaving Technique:
Step one: Blend alchemy and potion-making to brew something called Moon Soul Water.
Its main job? Sedate magical creatures, steady their souls, and lock down their magic circuits.
Step two: Use specific dark magic to rip apart the target's circuits.
But they could skip that—the little foal's were already torn, and what he needed now was repair, not redesign.
Step three: The big one, and trickiest.
The finest finesse of Transfiguration: Channel your own magic to mimic a slice of the creature's circuits, then gently guide, reshape, and mold it.
Incredibly fiddly—the make-or-break moment.
Final step: The longest haul. Layer on a barrage of spells and potions to stabilize the new circuits for good.
He glanced up at the moon, basking in its cool glow, and let out a slow breath.
The moonlight was primed.
Time to start.
He set the Sorcerer's Stone on the bench. This pinnacle of alchemy didn't just speed up the brewing—it stretched out the potion's effects, too.
Moon Soul Water relied on alchemical tricks to make its potency last; with the Stone's help, he could cut corners, saving precious time.
And right now, time was life.
Lucien called Astrion over.
"I need your blood—to save your child."
"It has to be given willingly."
Luster relayed it all to Astrion on the spot.
Astrion didn't hesitate, nodding right away.
Lucien traced his wand lightly across Astrion's chest, opening a small cut.
He slid a jade dish underneath to catch the thick, silvery-white blood.
A quick scan with his Seer's Eye showed no curses clinging to it—Lucien exhaled in relief.
Brewing Moon Soul Water kicked off with blood from that species of magical creature—no need for the exact same one, just a close kin. But it had to be voluntary.
Unicorns made it easy to tell: Force it, and you'd pick up curses every time.
Blood carried the worst of 'em.
Once he'd gathered enough, Lucien stanched the flow and handed the dish to Luster.
"Fly as high as you can—let the moonlight soak the blood till blue spots form."
"Keep the temp steady—no freezing it solid."
Luster split off a puff of auspicious cloud to cradle the dish and rocketed skyward.
Lucien turned to prep the rest, waiting for the blood to drink in enough moonlight.
He chopped, ground, and mixed a mess of ingredients—whatever he was short on, he just asked Dumbledore for.
And if he asked, Dumbledore had it.
A faint, mosquito-thin cry wormed into Lucien's ears.
He looked over at Selene—Newt was cradling a golden foal in his arms.
The newborn tried so hard to crack its eyes open... but couldn't.
Lucien kept working the ingredients, ears perked for the system's chime.
Because the Circuit Stele loan quest was: Witness a birth that leaves an indelible mark on your soul.
But the "loan repaid" ping never came.
This had to count as indelible—but...
Lucien remembered the system's fine print:
[The instant a life arrives whole and unbroken, touching the world as a newborn should.]
No ping meant the foal's life was hanging by a thread—didn't qualify as a true birth.
No. Not yet. Not over.
The swirls in Lucien's eyes widened, zeroing in on the foal's fading magic circuits—dimmer by the second, but still flickering with stubborn grit.
Maybe the Qilin blood. Maybe the phoenix tears. Maybe the little one's own raw will to live...
Lucien's hands flew in perfect rhythm, faster than ever.
It's not over.