It was unexplainable. Sometimes he’d collapse walking to class. Sometimes he’d never wake up in his dormitory. Once, a boy died halfway through breakfast with his tea still warm beside him. St. Mungo’s couldn’t explain it. Professors couldn’t explain it. Rumors got ridiculous. Cursed jewelry. Experimental potions. Some kind of magical illness. Theories got wilder every week because people would rather invent monsters than admit they don’t have answers. And the really messed-up part? It. kept. On. Happening. Different boy—same pattern. Every. Single. Time. And somehow, through all of it, Arabella never looked tired. Never looked shaken. Never even looked particularly interested whenever another memorial was held. If anything… she looked healthier than everybody else. Brighter. Like the deaths of her peers didn’t hurt her but made her stronger. Which, honestly… Should’ve been the first clue. @HunnyBunni and I are collabing and she’s made her own version of this with an incubus instead of an succubus!