The three girls stumbled down the street towards Daphne's apartment. Rhode helped her friends along, half carrying them. Normally Daphne would have been worried about the trail of blood they were leaving on the sidewalk, but right now, she had bigger things to worry about, like trying to get home without screaming.

Tears and sweat streamed down her flushed face. Her throat felt thick and painful from trying not to cry out. For now all she could do was focus on Rhode, focus on taking one step after another.

"Just a little more," Rhode, the only one without serious injuries, grunted. She bravely took a large step forward, but it was too much for Sabine, who cried out. As Rhode turned to help her, Daphne lost her grip and tumbled to the ground. Pain spread out from her arm like a wave and against her wishes, a whimper escaped her mouth.

Immediately, Sabine was on the ground beside her, crouched down even on her twisted ankle. "Are you okay?" she whispered. Her hands were hesitant and gentle as they cupped Daphne's face, which was screwed up in anguish.

"Get me home," she sobbed. She bit her lips and bobbed her head to try and block out the searing pain of her broken arm.

"We need to get you to a hospital," said Rhode. "I mean, I hate doctors, but you're not looking good..."

"No!" Daphne protested. "Too many questions." With great difficulty, she stood up again. Her head swam from the pain; she had wrenched her broken arm getting up. She closed her eyes hard to push back against the wave of nausea. "Take me home. I can fix us all there."

And Rhode did. Daphne couldn't clearly remember the agonizing eternity between the downtown streets and her apartment—she had blocked that pain out of her mind as much as she could—but she did recognize Rhode's amazing strength as she practically carried Daphne and Sabine blocks and blocks, and then up the stairs.

By the time they got home, Daphne's sweater was plastered to her body by sweat and blood. Tears rolled down her face, a new wave springing up every time her arm sent another bolt of pain through her body. The kitten she had risked so much to rescue, though, was safe in her arms.

"Rhode," said Daphne, her voice wavery and hoarse from crying. "Thank you." Rhode nodded curtly in reply. "I need your help. Go into the bedroom—that's the first door on the right—and look for a purple box under the bed marked 'Emergency.' Don't open it, just bring it here."

She nodded again and ran off to get the box.

Daphne slowly lowered herself down onto the sofa next to Sabine. Her expression was hard and angry. "How's your ankle?" she asked meekly.

"It'll heal," said Sabine shortly. She looked coldly at the kitten still nestled in Daphne's good arm. "Was it worth it?"

"You didn't have to jump in front of me, you know," said Daphne, cutting to the heart of the matter. "I mean, it was very brave of you, but I was being dumb."

"If I hadn't, you would've ended up with much worse than a broken arm," said Sabine quietly. She shook her head. "All for a cat, Daphne. You risked your life for a stupid cat!"

"You risked your life for a stupid witch risking her life for a stupid cat."

"You're more important than any cat," Sabine replied fiercely. "But I won't deny you were being stupid," she added stubbornly.

Rhode came out from the bedroom carrying the purple box. It was small, smaller than a toaster, but Rhode's arms trembled as she clutched it to her chest. With great difficulty, she staggered over and set it on the coffee table, which shuddered under the box's impossible weight. "What is in that thing?" she gasped.

"Help," Daphne replied. She reached over for it, but the pain in her arm sent her head spinning. She grit her teeth. "Rhode, I'm going to need you to do me a favor."

"Name it."

"Get my wand from my bag, please. Don't wave it around; hold it in your hand pointing at the ground."

"I thought you said you were too injured to conjure any magic?" asked Sabine as Rhode walked off. "What are you going to do?"

"Every witch has a backup supply of magical power in case they get hurt or something else happens to them so they can't conjure any of their own. This is my mom's emergency supply, though it's a few years old. I hope it's still good..."

"What? Do you mean magic can spoil?"

Daphne laughed in spite of herself at Sabine's amazed face. "No, but it can get a little... wonky." Seeing her friend's concern, Daphne backtracked, saying, "But don't worry, it should be safe."

"Should be," she repeated doubtfully.

"Well, probably," said Daphne. "Oh, thanks, Rhode," she said as Rhode returned and handed her the wand. "Could you do me another favor and open the box? Carefully, please."

"It's like you don't trust me," said Rhode with a smirk before throwing the lid of the box open.

It exploded in a riot of colorful light. Rhode cursed quietly, more in awe than anger, and even Daphne momentarily forgot the pain in her arm.

With her wand in her hand, Daphne carefully leaned over towards the glowing, pulsing light. She dipped the tip of her wand in the pure magic. She sucked in a breath. This was some powerful magic her mother had stored away. Glancing down at her mangled arm, she decided she needed it. She siphoned some of the power into her wand, imagining she was drawing it up with an eyedropper. She felt the base slowly warm in her hand, then start to tremble.

One quick touch from the charged-up wand was all it took to set Daphne's arm right. With one final searing twist of pain and a disgusting cracking noise, Daphne's broken ulna dove back beneath her skin and knit back together.

"Disgusting," said Sabine.

"Cool!" Rhode exclaimed.

"Useful," Daphne said. She switched her wand back into her proper hand and twirled it around. It still pulsed with energy, which she directed at Sabine's swollen ankle, which immediately went from a purple red to its usual pale. "How does that feel?" she asked her.

"Better. Your arm?"

"All fixed," she answered.

"Good!" cried Rhode. "Then I can beat your stupid butts for being so reckless!" She leaned over and shook them both by their shoulders. "I thought I was supposed to be the reckless one! You nearly died for a cat," she yelled, pointing at Daphne, "And you nearly died trying to save her!" she snapped at Sabine. "And even if you hadn't, we were nowhere close to being prepared to fight that thing! What the hell even was that?"

"I don't know," Daphne answered, still embarrassed from being yelled at. "A Reliquus, I suppose. I didn't know they got so large."

"Oh, you don't know? This is just great!" Rhode ranted. She was on a roll. "You'd think you'd have done some research before trying to kill these things, but noooo, not you! What do you know about them?"

"Well, not much," Daphne admitted. "Even in the magical world, they're not talked about except to say that they're bad and we have to fight them. We know they're dark magic creatures, but that's about it."

Rhode ran her hands down her face. "And you never thought maybe it was important to figure out what they actually are before you wage war on them?"

"No," said Daphne quietly.

"Maybe we should do that," Sabine broke in. "Maybe we should research Reliqua. This way we'll be prepared next time."

"Blondie's finally making some sense," Rhode declared. "Where would we find stuff on them, though? I mean, it's not like Google is gonna be able to help us here, right?"

"No." Daphne stood, clutching her wand in her hand. "There's only one place where we would be able to find information."

"Where?" Sabine and Rhode asked together.

"The Great Library."