Nightingale

Sagreles walked over to Nightingale and tapped her body with the tip of his wand. An invisible current instantly swept away all the mud on her.

Supporting her shoulder with one hand, he used the other to cut open the fabric around her shoulder with his wand.

A vicious wound stretched from her shoulder to her back, with branching black veins visible around it. Sagreles frowned slightly and tore open her bloodstained cloak despite her attempts to stop him.

"Episkey!"

An emerald glow lit up, and a wisp of black smoke rose from the wound.

Damage caused by dark magic usually required a specific counter-curse to heal. Fortunately, Sagreles was quite skilled in healing spells. Though the effect of that spell had clearly been poor, he was still confident he could heal her.

"Vulnera Sanentur!"

Another burst of white light flashed, but the result was still poor. This time, Nightingale finally let out a faint groan of pain.

He raised his wand, preparing to continue casting, but the weakened Nightingale suddenly grabbed his wrist. Under his puzzled gaze, she murmured, "Safe house... tree hollow..."

Then she abruptly fainted.

Sagreles looked at the unconscious Nightingale. After thinking briefly, he snapped his fingers. Invisible ripples spread out, and before long, tiny silver-white strands of broken hair and drops of blood flew in from all over the town.

Only after placing them all into crystal vials did he pick up the unconscious Nightingale and Apparate.

Moldova, Twilight Forest

With a faint crack, Sagreles appeared before a towering oak tree.

Nightingale let out a soft murmur in her sleep, but showed no signs of waking.

He nodded at the tree and spoke an ancient, obscure incantation. The trunk immediately sank inward, forming a tree hollow two feet high.

The space inside was quite spacious, clearly enlarged by an Undetectable Extension Charm. Sagreles lifted his chin, and soft lights immediately came on.

A branch descended from the ceiling of the hollow, rapidly growing and weaving itself into a wooden recliner. After laying down the Nightingale he had been carrying in his arms, Sagreles went to the entrance and cast several layers of powerful protective spells.

Turning around, he looked at the unconscious Nightingale and couldn't help sighing. Dealing with women like her was truly troublesome.

Veela were highly beguiling and dangerous magical creatures, commonly found in Eastern Europe.

They usually appeared as extraordinarily beautiful women, with silver-white hair, smooth skin, and breathtaking features. When unconscious, their bodies even gave off a faint glow.

Of course, Veela had another form—a birdlike monster with a beaked face, burning wings, and savage claws.

They could intermarry with humans, and their descendants could inherit some Veela traits.

And Nightingale—more precisely, Villis Nixia—was a mixed-blood Veela descendant. Her mother had Veela blood, while her father carried Snow Demon blood, which had caused signs of atavism and mutation in her as well.

Before Sagreles met her, Nightingale had chosen to live alone in Moldova's primeval forests year-round, keeping herself isolated to prevent people from becoming obsessed with her appearance and causing disturbances.

Helping the still-unconscious Nightingale up, Sagreles directly plunged the tip of his wand into the wound on her back. The black patterns writhing beneath her skin suddenly let out a piercing shriek, then were slowly but resolutely stripped away from her body.

Black magic gradually flowed from the wound into the wand. Sagreles felt a slight heat in his palm, and only after he had completely extracted the magic from Nightingale's body did he discover that some of the black curse had seeped from the wand into his hand.

That was somewhat unexpected, but he wasn't too worried. Yet when he picked up his wand, he discovered that the old yew wand had already been corroded by the curse and was clearly completely unusable.

Sagreles felt a momentary pang of sentiment. He had dug this wand out of the Greengrass family's attic as a child. It had been with him since he was six. Though it had never fit his hand particularly well, he had never replaced it all these years.

Placing the decayed wand on the table, Sagreles lightly brushed Nightingale's back with his other hand. The vicious wound immediately vanished without a trace.

After casting two silent spells in succession, her torn clothes were restored to their original state as well.

Carefully laying her flat on the recliner, he subconsciously looked at her, only to find that she had already opened her eyes.

Sagreles calmly withdrew his hand and nodded to her. "The curse has been removed. It didn't leave any scars."

Nightingale stared blankly at his right hand, which had been eroded by the curse, and said nothing.

Frowning, Sagreles conjured a teapot and poured a steaming drink into a cup before handing it to her. "Those dark wizards couldn't have cast such a powerful curse. What exactly happened?"

Nightingale slowly accepted it, her voice low and hoarse. "Elios ambushed me... He took the Norwegian Sea Monster heart you gave me..."

Sagreles neither comforted nor blamed her.

He simply made a calm suggestion. "So there are now two people we need to find: Red Kestrel and Elios... I suggest we find Red Kestrel first."

As he spoke, he took a thumb-sized dark-blue gemstone from his cloak. "A Norwegian Sea Monster has two hearts. As long as Elios is still carrying yours, finding him won't be difficult."

Nightingale nodded. She set down the cup, took Sagreles's right hand covered in black veins, and fell into a long silence.

"Can it be cured?"

"Of course!" Sagreles pulled his hand free from Nightingale's grasp and casually snapped the decayed wand on the table in two. "If there are no other issues, I suggest we leave immediately."

With that, he handed her three crystal vials containing her silver hair, blood, and tears. "Put your things away. Half the potion you brew is mine."

Nightingale paused slightly, then revealed an elegant smile. "Do you have a lead on her?"

"No, but I know who does!"

Sagreles extended his left hand. Understanding, Nightingale extended her pale right hand and placed it against his.

The instant their hands touched, their figures vanished.

After another short-distance Apparition, Sagreles and Nightingale crossed Moldova's border and arrived on the Balkan Peninsula.

The two walked to a remote village and, guided by the villagers, found a Gypsy fortune-telling tent.

Sagreles had barely pointed at the tent when a vicious curse rang out from inside. "Which damned bastard dared cast a spell on Seraphin Somberlin's tent..."

Before the voice had faded, a hunched old crone leaning on a cane lifted the tent flap and walked out.

"I'll turn your skin into book pages, then brew ink from your blood..."

Her cursing abruptly stopped. The wrinkled old witch froze when she saw Nightingale, then greed slowly gleamed in her vacant eyes. "Ah, what perfect spellcasting material... Your hair would surely brew the finest love potion in the world!"

She slowly reached out her filthy claw, intending to stroke Nightingale's silver-white hair.

"Immobulus!"

Sagreles directly froze the old witch in place with a wandless Freezing Charm.

Then a pile of pebbles rose from the ground, and a silent Transfiguration Spell turned them all into spikes that surrounded her.

"Now I ask, and you answer."

Sagreles looked calmly at her, ignoring the terror and malice in her eyes.

"A month ago, outside the Hoff Herb Shop in Bulgaria, two wizards dressed as Gypsies set up a tent there."

Staring into her malicious eyes, he asked expressionlessly, "Tell me where they are now!"

The witch suddenly discovered that she could speak again. She tried to draw her wand, but her body was clearly still beyond her control.

"Don't make me search for the answer in your mind myself. Believe me, you won't like that method..."

Seeing that she wasn't very cooperative, Sagreles gave her a calm "reminder."

Whether his threat had worked or the old witch calling herself Seraphin Somberlin had recognized the situation, she immediately became quite cooperative.

"Let me think, let me think, ah... I need a crystal ball..."

Sagreles held out his hand, and three crystal balls of different sizes immediately flew out of the tent and hovered above his palm.

"The smallest one. I want the smallest one..."

The deep-purple crystal ball responded to her choice and slowly floated before Seraphin. Only then did she discover that her arms could move freely again.

Placing her withered palm on the crystal ball, the purple mist within immediately began changing shape, while the whites of her eyes filled her sockets.

"The mist will tell me where the children are. Wheel of fate, if you continue to turn, then I shall bury silver coins when the Raven perches upon the laurel branch. Otherwise, let my name vanish forever from the pages of books..."

The image within the crystal ball kept shifting before finally settling on two Gypsies guarding a dilapidated wooden house.

Sagreles immediately had his answer. He extended his hand to Nightingale. Their hands met, and the crack of Apparition rang out once more.