The Hour of Judgment (IV)

On a hillside by the lake beneath the bleak night sky.

Like candles, without anyone seeing how Amosta moved, Jasna's subordinates were set alight one after another. Their souls became wicks, their flesh and blood candle wax, their lives offering up a bloody glow.

Watching those skeletons—now nothing but mouths and hollow eye sockets spewing fire—continue to shriek like female ghosts, Louise stared blankly, bloodless-faced. Then, suddenly unable to endure any longer, she dropped to her knees and began dry-heaving.

Anton Vogel's nominal granddaughter finally came back to her senses. She slashed her wand toward the subordinate nearest her, trying to save his life, but the gust pouring from her wand tip could not extinguish Amosta's Fiendfyre, nor could it make the flames waver in the slightest.

"Stop this at once, Breen!"

Jasna shouted furiously at Amosta, cold sweat soaking her elegant face.

"Did the Muggles who died by your hands ever beg you to stop like this before they died?"

Amosta asked calmly.

"Muggles!"

Jasna's body trembled. Her eyes were filled with hatred as she looked at Amosta.

"Those beasts with incomplete souls are not worthy of comparison with noble wizards!"

"In my eyes, Professor Rosier, you are beasts as well—"

Amosta's tone did not ripple in the slightest. As his voice fell, the golden Fiendfyre clinging to the wailing skeletons suddenly surged. Pillars of flame erupted from the earth, illuminating the night, and the roaring fire drowned out the horrific screams. When it all faded, only dry ashes drifted through the air.

"Make your choice, Professor Rosier."

From beginning to end, Amosta remained unmoved. There was neither hatred nor satisfaction on his face as he addressed Jasna Rosier.

"You may choose to keep resisting and die here, or come back to Britain with me, confess everything you have