Lilith began classes again.
Not with books. Not with chalkboards. With blood, memory, and fire.
"You’ve learned magic," she told the class of hand-picked survivors. "Now learn how it breaks."
She summoned scenes of past cataclysms: the first shard struggle, the burning of the Spiral Courts, the destruction of the Moon Library.
"What do they all have in commonplace?" she asked.
No one answered.
She looked at me.
"They all started with hope," I said.
Lilith nodded. "And ended when someone mistook love for power."
Then she dismissed the class.
But her eyes lingered on me as I left.