eighteen

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Draco takes off a split second after he lands on the soil of Venna Lakes.

He sprints down the path that winds down to the lake, the lodges standing lonely and abandoned around it. From his vantage point on the hill that he's currently racing down, he can't see any sign of Mavi or Aumutage — but his wrist is burning red hot now, scalding his skin.

He casts a Trace as he runs, his heart pounding in his chest, looking for any sign of her. Instinctively, he heads towards Aumutage's lodge and the thin bracelet around his wrist becomes so heated, he nearly tears it off.

The Trace comes up empty — as expected — but just as Draco steps up to the door of the lodge, fully intent on ramming his shoulder into it to force it open, he hears the distinct sound of heavy breathing from behind him. In his haste and his panic, he hadn't noticed what he normally would have — soft footsteps on the grass behind him.

He whirls — just as Aumutage brings the shovel down on his head. Draco throws an arm up to stop it, the other drawing his wand — but Aumutage is strong and the shovel catches him on the side of his head just as he ducks out from under it.

His ears ring, pain bursting in his skull — but Draco grips the handle of the shovel and shoves it back, driving it right into Aumutage's chest. He stumbles back with a pained gasp and that's all it takes for Draco to recover, his wand now up and pointed right at the blond man.

Aumutage stares at him, wide-eyed, still clutching the shovel.

Draco isn't surprised the Cruciatus Curse is on the tip of his tongue, aching to be said. But he can't.

"Where is she?" Draco says through gritted teeth. His sharp senses take in the criminal in front of him — the man he's been hunting for years. There's no blood on him, no rips in his clothes.

That's not a good thing. That means Mavi probably didn't fight.

An ache so severe flares to life in Draco's chest, dread wrapping tight fingers around his throat. "Where. Is. She."

Aumutage only smiles, revealing too sharp teeth. "Six feet underground, I believe."

Cracks of Apparition resound through the air, Draco's team finally arriving — but Aumutage doesn't even look fazed. In fact, he looks triumphant. Like he doesn't care that he's lost the game — because he really hasn't. Because if he's buried Mavi, there's no way Draco can get to her anyway.

Except there is. That damned bracelet on his wrist hasn't stopped burning yet — so she's still alive. Only a minute could've passed since Aumutage had attacked Draco — which means there's still time.

Draco doesn't even wait. As soon as Deiji comes sprinting down the hill, his team sweeping by her on brooms, he's gone, following the barely visible footprints around the lodge, leading to the backyard. His bracelet burns so violently, he has to grit his teeth to stomach the pain.

Terror tears through him at the sight of the freshly packed dirt — right at the foot of where the treeline begins.

No.

A strangled scream rips from his throat as he drops to his knees beside it. He shoves his hands into the soil, his Occlumency fading with the despair that swallows him up — and begins to dig.

Mavi. Mavi. Mavi.

The rest is a blur. Someone pulls him away from the grave, telling him to stop, telling him they'll take care of it. He fights to stay, dirt gathering underneath his nails, rocks ripping at his skin and making it bleed as he lurches forward.

They pull him off anyway and a group surrounds the grave, getting to work. He can't see what they're doing — but he tries to tell them they can't use any spells on it. Blowing the dirt apart might harm Mavi if she's down there.

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