The hall stood in desolation, its checkerboard-tiled floor a witness to the wreckage that had unfolded within its yellow, mildewed walls. Branches and roots penetrated the roof, a stark reflection of the turmoil that had consumed the once-hallowed space.

Lady Flavia Sains, her heart heavy with the weight of recent events, stood alongside Lady DeVries, both awaiting the inevitable confrontation with Joanne. She recounted the tragic tale of Lady Du Bellay's demise at the hands of the treacherous Jana.

Lady Flavia Sains stood amidst the wreckage, recounting the harrowing events to Lady DeVries and the grieving Margarita. The news of Lady Du Bellay's demise at the hands of Joanne hung heavy in the air.

"Get out of here, Margarita," Flavia urged, a mixture of urgency and sorrow in her voice. "Don't face her. Joanne's Thaumaturgy is unpredictable, and she's cunning. Pretend you don't know anything, and she isn’t after you."

Margarita, tears streaming down her cheeks, hesitated. "Please, don't die."

Flavia pressed her flute into Margarita's hands. "Go. Take it to Dana."

As Margarita vanished, leaving behind an air of despair, Lady Sains and Lady DeVries braced themselves for Joanne's inevitable appearance. Minutes ticked by before the cunning Jana revealed herself.

"Well, well! You've already told them about my weakness!" Joanne scowled; her frustration evident.

Ignoring the accusation, Lady DeVries hit the floor with her cane, invoking a magic circle with a spinning twelve-pointed star. Joanne found herself briefly crushed under a falling roof, only for another of her clones to reappear unscathed.

Lady DeVries wore a gold bracelet on her right wrist. It morphed, enlarged, and now covered DeVries’ hand and forearm, like a kind of gauntlet. She moved with superhuman agility, relentlessly attacking the multiplying Joannes. The old woman dived toward Joanne, banging her against the floor and walls, destroying everything around them. Two other Joanne appeared and stabbed DeVries, one in the back and the other in the right flank.

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“Efrit!” The old woman cast as she fell to her knees. A cloud of red dust surrounded her. A flame engulfed the gauntlet. DeVries dashed toward Joanne.

Amidst the chaos, Lady Sains grappled with indecision. Sweat coated her forehead, and panic gripped her; she was not a combatant. Her expertise lay in medicinal Thaumaturgy. Nevertheless, the urgency demanded action. Focusing her energy, she began to channel a dark aura using her left index finger as an improvised catalyst. She knew how to cast a single but deadly curse; it was her last resort.

Joanne, realizing the imminent threat, panicked. "I will not let you do that!"

In a desperate move, Lady Sains released the accumulated energy, a deadly black miasma aimed at the three Joannes closing in on her, killing them in an instant. However, the attack was short-lived, as another Joanne materialized behind her, swiftly cutting her throat. Despite the mortal wound, the dark miasma lingered, proving lethal to the additional Joanne, who with just a simple touch, fell to her knees in an instant dead.

Lady DeVries, engulfed her whole body in flames, she stared dashing toward Joanne but she stepped on a spike coming from the floor. In mere seconds, she fell into a pit filled with hundreds more spikes, the cruel trap further sealing her fate.

Weak and gasping for breath, Lady Sains attempted to heal herself, her fingers stained with her own blood. Yet, the loss was too severe.

"Not dead yet?" Joanne frowned, looming over Lady Sains.

"Never underestimate your enemy; it can make the weakest of Thaumaturgy the most effective. You taught me that."

Lady Sains gasped; her vision blurred.

Joanne searched Lady Sains' clothing. "Your flute is not here. Well, at least, I have DeVries's cane."

"Why?" Lady Sains choked out.

"You betrayed us first," Joanne declared, callously stepping through the puddle of Lady Sains' blood, her other clones not killed by the curse converging around her.

"Only fifteen shadows left," Joanne sighed, and Lady Sains, with her vision fading to black, whispered a final protest before succumbing to death's embrace.

“I used to admire you,” Joanne said.

“Why?” Lady Sains managed to choke out as her vision turned black; she was dead.