Nothing is mine.

Today's filler chapter takes us away from Belgium (about time really) and somewhere a little further south. Also a little further east. Naturally, this chapter comes with a content advisory warning, this time for an extreme lack of respect for ancient architecture.

The Spear of Truth

Splintered wood and broken glass scattered across the stark stone floor of Nurmengard's hall, crunching under Harry's feet as he drifted along its centre. The snow swirled through the gaping, broken windows, settling in a faint white veil across the debris; its chill bit through his loose dark robes.

'I am here, Grindelwald.'

Grindelwald twisted away from the window at the end of the hall, brushing the dusting of snow from the shoulders of his grey jacket. 'I would have fixed it, but—' a small sad smile flitted across his lips '—it seemed fitting and I could not bring myself to.'

'One more sacrifice to see the sun rise,' Harry murmured.

'Just so.'

'What next? Novimagus once more? Beauxbatons?'

'There are two tasks that must now be performed, as swiftly as we are able to bring them to resolution. Some nations will not bend to us: America, the Ottoman Magical Caliphate and those others in Europe who have fought against me before and bled too much to stomach my solution. But the others have grown to see what we have seen with each passing year of rising muggle pressure and muggleborn influx.' Grindelwald tucked his right hand through the silver buttons of his plum waistcoat. 'The Hidden Cities of China. India's Secret States. The South American Confederation of Magical Peoples. They have all felt the suffocation of muggle expansion. They have seen how those muggles treat their own when given the chance to commit atrocity. As we grow near to victory, they accept the reality that what must now be done will be done and that dying to oppose it is merely a waste of life. Across the world, the same story unfolds, over and over, of difference, divide, fear and destruction. I go now to perform the most complex task remaining, to write one more chapter in the blood of our brothers and sisters before we can finally close the book.'

'Where?' Harry asked.

'Many places. I had much time to spend in solitary thought, and even when devoting all my efforts to aid Albus in persuading those who are now our allies to believe in his words, I saw other ways in which they might serve a greater good. Now they will at last bear fruit for our cause.' Grindelwald's left hand crept to the small outline in his breast pocket. 'I will start in Africa, with the small states who seceded to the magical world to avoid the hegemony of the European muggle empires, and move from nation to nation until all our pieces are in place. It will come at a cost, as such things always must, and either our terrible wonder or my necessary horror will be served well.'

'How well?'

'However well as must be,' he said. 'The greatest nations who deny our cause and feel no need to heed the ICW must be broken and brought to heel here in Europe. The rest must find themselves under the guidance and leadership of those who know our cause. Then we can ensure our control over first the magical world and then the muggle, to whichever end we find ourselves reaching.'

Harry mulled that over. 'And the second task? If you go to perform one, then the other is for me.'

Grindelwald drew his long thin pale wand and conjured a shining copper rose. 'You are fond of these flowers, I believe?'

'They're special.' Harry reached out and took it. 'Where will it take me?'

'The second task is Constantinople. Suleiman.'

He leaves to secure his grip on the world. And I go to face Suleiman. Harry turned the copper rose in his hand, rolling the cold metal stem between his thumb and forefinger. I am expendable now, I suppose. Either I die for his cause against his greatest foes or I die to bring the dawn.

'Very well,' he murmured. 'Do you want Suleiman alive?'

'No.' Grindelwald shook his head. 'He will not yield to you or I. Kill him, cut the head off the Ottoman lion and crush the remaining ortas if they do not surrender. They have been bled in their war against Britain—' that small sad smile hovered on his lips '—you did your work well in each and every guise you have worn in these wars. Suleiman has ruled for many years, allowing no rivals to rise, by the time they have a new leader, it will be too late.'

'Is that all?'

'That is all.' Grindelwald bowed his head. 'Perhaps our actions over these coming days will be enough to work our wonder, Mithras; I sorely hope so. But it all must be done just the same.' He vanished in a flash of golden flames.

Suleiman then.

Harry disapparated, hopping south through Italy and Greece, and onto the beach of Atlantis.

The Carrows froze in their mock duel upon the sand, and Grant and Cedric stumbled to their feet from their conjured bench before the waves.

'Constantinople.' He raised the copper rose.

Marzanna's vast shadow rose from below the waves, stalking forward from the sea upon her wing claws as she shook the seawater from her magic-wreathed black scales, looming over the four of them as they hurried across the sand to his side. Harry reached out and rested his hand on her snout as she dipped her head at his feet, snaking her dark tail around the others.

'For the Greater Good,' he whispered.

A wash of golden fire swept Atlantis away and he stepped out upon a small stub of rock sticking from the churning sea.

Above the white-jackets and golden eagles of Marie Renner's aurors, Constantinople hovered, a towering pyramid of marble houses and green hanging gardens rising from broad bronze-capped square towers and a fortress of red-brick walls.

Roman.

The great double-headed eagle glared back across the waves, spitting a cascade of white water down from its gleaming bronze beaks upon a tangle of green and pale columns.

Sophonissa, your son, all those sons. The storm stirred, a whisper of desperate desire as red as the small square of stone stolen from Kart Hadasht's mosaics and spent in futile sacrifice, not yet a scream, snagged on the brink of one, stuck on it like a red rose petal on the tip of a thorn, trembling in the rising wind and to the sound of distant thunder. Ba'alat Tanit demands.

Harry slipped his wand from his sleeve.

All the light is gone already. And in the darkness before dawn, every last legacy of Rome will go too.

'Mithras.' A thin edge of disdain coloured Marie Renner's tone as she stepped from her aurors, her blue eyes sharp and cool. 'This is as close as we dare get. Any closer and Suleiman himself sallies forth.'

Harry studied the cold copper rose, curling his fingers around it, crumpling its thin petals and leaves into a misshapen lump. There's nobody to give roses to anymore. A raw bitter pang tore through him. If you disappear today, you deserve it.

Marzanna leapt into the sky, powering aloft, the fierce gusts of wind from her wings tugging at Harry's loose dark robes and buffeting him a step back upon the rocks.

Marie Renner flinched behind her arm, staggering back. 'Mithras?'

'Let him come.' He tossed the lump of copper into the sea and watched it sink among the waves. 'Go to Beauxbatons and aid De Mendoza, Fürst-Elect Renner, or stay and watch if you prefer.'

'Mithras?' Cedric edged forward. 'Do you want wards?'

'There's no need. Suleiman will not run. And neither will I.' Harry wrenched the world back past him, stepping out onto the crumbling marble bridge before Constantinople's walls.

Long red banners bearing a rearing golden lion clutching a curved blade between its snarling fangs hung either side of the tall, bronze-plated gates, fluttering against the thin red-brick and mortar of the ancient Roman walls. Janissaries gathered atop the walls, shouting and yelling as they peered over the crenellations.

The bronze gates jerked open with fierce screech.

Suleiman stepped from his city, one hand upon the pale bone hilt of his curved blade and the other in the pocket of his neat black robes as he strode forward across the worn flagstones of the old Roman road. 'Another pureblood fanatic deluded by old myths and full of foolish ideas.' Sharp brown eyes studied Harry from beneath fierce thick grey eyebrows and his bright purple turban. 'It is death or it is victory.' He drew his wand, a smooth brown thing with snarling carved lions prowling along its length, and a shimmer of wards fell over them. 'There will be no mercy.'

Harry inclined his head.

'This is no duelling match, fool; it is war.' Suleiman's wand flashed up, sending pale green curses hissing across the worn marble road.

Conjuring a stream of black butterflies, Harry swatted them back, slipping his own spells in between the swishes of his wrist.

A bright shield of white magic sprang up before Suleiman; the curses burst against it in showers of glowing sparks and he thrust his wand forward.

Pale light lanced at Harry, tearing through the swirling butterflies as he flinched aside, ripping a deep smoking furrow through the road. He batted away a stream of lime green curses, transfiguring his butterflies into gleaming steel spikes and banishing them at Suleiman's white shield, but, with a flick of his wand, Suleiman ripped up the flagstones and the metal projectiles bounced off, skittering across the road and bouncing back off the bronze gates.

Harry poured magic into his wand as the scarred flagstones blurred into a towering stone lion, white sparks spiralling about the ebony tip. 'Fulminis,' he murmured as the lion lunged.

Light seared his eyes.

The two halves of the lion collapsed to the road, dripping molten stone, and the beam of lightning crackled against the gates.

'A fool who can use a wand.' Suleiman drew his blade as the janissaries upon the gate cheered and roared. 'Constantinople has seen many die before its walls and its defences have only grown stronger for it.'

Harry twisted his wrist, whipping the lightning back around.

Golden runes flared upon the blade and it fizzled out in a sputter of white sparks against a faint haze of magic.

Merde.

Harry unleashed a storm of spells, forcing his arm as fast as he could; they dissipated like mist, melting away upon the shivering aura. He slashed his wand, but the blur of the basilisk burst against the shimmering shroud of magic like a bubble of soap against stone.

Alright. Time to improvise.

He thrust his wand at the road and the smoking halves of the lion, sweeping them up and transfiguring them into a towering golem.

Suleiman stabbed the blade into the ground behind him and strode forward, stepping from the haze as the golem lumbered toward him. A flash of white light tore through the stone statue, sending sharp shards of rock hissing back past Harry, slicing lines of fire across his ribs and through his thigh.

The golem staggered three more steps, raising both fists above its head, and Harry fired Rupturing Curses through the smoking hole in its chest.

Suleiman blew the statue's arms and head away in a lance of pale light, and a slim purple ribbon snaked from his sleeve, snatching the hilt of the blade and yanking it forward. The haze swept over him, swallowing Harry's spells as he wound the ribbon around his hand, swinging the sword around him in a circle and hurling it at Harry.

The blade spun end over end, the shivering aura washing over Harry in a faint tingle. He sidestepped it, striding toward Suleiman and out the other side of the haze of magic, swatting dark orange hexes aside and slashing his wand.

The faint shimmer of the basilisk lunged, hammering into Suleiman's white shield and hurling him to his knees.

Above the gate, the janissaries froze, falling silent, and the city held its breath.

'Fulminis.' Harry thrust his arm forward.

A searing flash bounced off the oval of pale magic and tore through the stones, melting a deep gouge across the road.

The purple ribbon snapped back into Suleiman's sleeve.

Harry dived to his left, rolling across the road as the sword hissed over his head and smacked back into Suleiman's hand.

'Mithras...' Suleiman's thick grey brows curved down into a frown and he thrust the curved blade back into its sheath at his side; the haze faded. 'Where was Grindelwald hiding you all this time?'

'He wasn't.'

A clear stream fountained from Suleiman's wand, curling into a great octopus and hurling itself at Harry.

He slashed his wand, smashing it into fine spray, and forced his magic into the air.

Suleiman flicked his wrist, conjuring a small shower of sparks; the cloud of spray burst into shrieking green flames, billowing toward Harry.

He swept it aside with a swish of his arm and hammered the air at Suleiman, flinging him back along the road and slamming him into the bronze gates with a great crash.

Harry strode forward. 'Lacero.'

Suleiman threw up his shield and the purple curse glanced off the edge, bursting against the gate in a small spatter of sparks.

'Lacero.' Harry took another step forward, firing Piercing Curses into the glowing white oval shield covering Suleiman from knee to shoulder.

They burst in ripples of fierce yellow and pale violet spells flashed back, hissing past Harry's hip as he swatted them away into the stone.

'Fulminis,' he whispered.

The searing flash slammed into the white shield, smashing Suleiman into the gate again with a dull crash. His purple turban slipped free, unravelling over his eyes, but he ripped it off, clawing long dark hair out of his eyes as he staggered to his feet and swiped sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his neat black robes.

'Ossasula.' Harry hurled a bone-splintering curse at his legs, his wrist blurring through the motions as he unleashed a storm of spells.

Suleiman's white shield sprang up and he set himself behind it, grimacing as the spells pounded against it.

Fatigue crept in, a soft stinging ache in Harry's limbs, and he lowered his wand. That shield's as strong as mine.

Suleiman conjured a writhing pair of liquid eels with a tired swing of his arm.

Those definitely catch fire.

Harry put a trio of Banishing Charms through them, splashing them across the ground at Suleiman's feet. 'Incendio.'

Emerald flames burst across the road.

Suleiman disapparated, smacking his shoulder into the red brick of the gate-tower; his thick grey brows drew down into a deep frown, and he transfigured the remains of the golem into sand, sweeping it over the rush of green fire and smothering it. 'Depulso,' he spat.

The sand hissed past Harry and he flinched behind his arm; it stung his fingers, tearing at his robes and the amber mask.

Pale green spells flashed at him, but Harry slapped them away with in deft flicks of his wrist, sand trailing from his sleeve.

The lion-carved wand whipped up, pouring hungry whispering cherry-red flames from its tip. They flooded across the road, eating into the stone, turning the air blistering hot and burning Harry's bare fingers as they coalesced into a pride of lean lions.

'Fiendfyre.' Harry swallowed a hot lump in his throat and a fierce raw wrench upon his heart, blinking back the threat of tears. 'Someone once told me that hate is the weapon of a child. Grindelwald, actually.'

Suleiman's lip curled as the lions spread out, sprouting wings of red flame. 'All weapons are useful in war. To destroy your enemies utterly is the purest of victories and the safest form of success.'

'I think I would prefer to change things than hate them so utterly.' Harry reached up and touched his fingertips to the hot amber mask. 'Otherwise there will always be more things to hate and it will never end. You'll waste the moments you should've enjoyed on all the things you find to hate, and when those dreams are dust, you'll be left with nothing.'

'You are an idealistic fool; of course it never ends.' Suleiman shook his head. 'It never can. Did you think you could rebuild Rome into some pureblood utopia by taking a name from an old story? No, you have come to conquer, to kill those who will not obey you and crush their resistance. You would restore the legacy of Rome in your own image, over the ashes of your enemies, as the nature of such things dictates.'

'I didn't come to rebuild Rome or restore its legacy.' Harry let the storm stir, let its murmur of yearning swell into a scream and rip his heart away upon its searing winds. 'I came to eclipse it.'

'And bring what to my nation? Death and destruction.'

'No—' a single spark of golden sprung from the tip of Harry's wand '—dawn.'

It burst into an amber butterfly, splitting into two, four, and a thousand more, swirling around him in streaks of light as bright as burning embers, slicing through the air and stone alike, razor sharp claws of searing flame ripping through the world.

'You can die in despair,' he whispered as they shredded Suleiman's Fiendfyre lions, scattering them away into nothing. 'Or you can fight for hope. It doesn't matter which, every sacrifice brings the rising sun a little closer.'

Suleiman's jaw set and he drew the curved edge of the sword half from its sheath, dragging the blade across his palm. Crimson trickled down the golden runes and the glyphs shifted, sinking into the steel. The sword and its sheath melted into a swirl of liquid steel, flowing into a tall silver spear.

Its haze of magic crashed over Harry like a breaking wave, drowning the golden butterflies, snuffing out every last golden spark like dying candles in the dark.

'The Spear of Truth.' Suleiman thrust his wand into his pocket. 'Forged in the Fire of Truth to slay the magical creatures that were beyond the magic of men at the cost of extinguishing those sacred flames. No deception or sorcery can stand before it.'

Merde. Harry raised his wand, pouring magic into it, but it melted away at the tip of the slim piece of ebony like water slipping through his fingers. Double merde.

'My ancestor, Osman, claimed this weapon long ago in ancient Persia, returning to Ephesos and the land of his birth when he sought to build a new Rome of united magical and muggle worlds.' Suleiman tossed the spear from one hand to the other. 'From caliph to caliph it has been passed, until Osman's dream of Rome restored had been long abandoned, but the spear's power remains. No unbound magic can persist near it. Those who fight with wands alone are left weaponless. You will die before Constantinople's many eyes and inspire all within it to bolster its defence.'

Unbound?

Harry tucked his wand back into his sleeve, the corner of his mouth curving up into a small smile. 'I am not entirely defenceless.'

A shadow fell over the double-headed bronze eagle atop Constantinople's summit.

'Like you, I still have one weapon left.'

'Draw it,' Suleiman commanded. 'And die.'

Marzanna crashed down upon the gate, biting two janissaries in half and whirling about, impaling the rest on her tail spines and sweeping them screaming down into the sea.

Suleiman stared up at Marzanna as she stalked forward to the edge of the wall, the sun gleaming on the blood-smeared pale bone spines sprouting along her spine and from her tail, and the poisonous yellow magic glimmering bright as flame in her eyes; his knuckles whitened around the spear.

'She's not really the sort of weapon you draw,' Harry said with a small smile. 'But she's very useful.'

'This weapon was forged to kill beasts, this one you've unleashed will die too.' He took three steps and hurled the spear.

It pierced Marzanna's chest, plunging through her dark scales like a stick into water, and the purple ribbon flashed from Suleiman's sleeve coiling around the shaft and ripping it back into his hand. Thick deep-red dragon blood trickled down the shining blade.

Suleiman twisted on his heel. 'Now the beast is dead and you are weaponless again.' He pointed the spear at Harry's heart. 'Be honoured, those that die upon this spear are among only the mightiest foes of the caliph. In all the centuries there have been no more than fifty.'

Marzanna leapt from the gate, thundering to the ground behind Suleiman; her dark tattered wings rose over him, casting him in shadow. Tatters of red janissary uniform stuck to the slick crimson staining her jagged fangs and blood trickled down the spines and black scales of her tail, dripping onto the worn weathered Roman road.

'You can't kill what's already dead,' Harry said.

'If I cannot kill your thrall, then I will kill you.' Suleiman leapt at Harry, raising the spear over his shoulder.

Marzanna lunged, snapping him up in a single bite. His severed arm slipped from between her fangs and the Spear of Truth bounced free from his twitching fingers, rolling across the road to Harry's feet.

Another enchanted ancient trinket. He bent and picked it up, but it melted back into a simple sheathed sword. Perhaps Grindelwald will have some use for it in his plans.

Marzanna spat Suleiman's corpse back out before the gate and launched herself into the sky, swooping down below the crumbling edge of the road and powering up into the clouds.

Loud cracks rang out around Harry and echoed through the city.

They're fleeing.

'Mithras?' Marie Renner stared at the ragged, bleeding body of Suleiman as tiptoed around the craters in the ruined road. 'How do you wish to take the city? The wards…'

'Sweep the city for anyone who hasn't fled,' he murmured. 'Evacuate them and escort them all safe and sound to the nearest Ottoman town or city that can help them. Kill only those who are willing to fight to the death to stop us. Cedric, Grant, Hestia and Flora will help you.'

'But the wards.' Marie pointed her wand at the walls. 'This is Constantinople.'

Harry tucked the ancient curved sword under his arm and spun the world back past him, stepping out upon the gate. They apparated after him.

'I don't understand…' Cedric knelt down and poked the walls with his wand. 'They're gone. All of them.'

Harry glanced down at the red bricks, turning Suleiman's words over in his head. 'Perhaps they were fuelled by the faith of those within the walls. It would explain why Suleiman frequently risked coming out to fight everyone in front of the city…'

Marie Renner gestured at the city with her wand, splitting her aurors up and sending them off in small groups.

'When you are done, Fürst-Elect Renner, go and aid De Mendoza at Beauxbatons. Grindelwald will decide what comes next after he returns.'

'And us?' Grant drew his wand. 'Back to waiting on that boring damn island?'

No. No more waiting. Not anymore.

'Come back here. To the small island where we portkeyed in.' Harry stared up at the bronze heads of the eagle. 'One of you tell me when the city is empty.'

'Yes, Mithras,' Grant said, disapparating with a loud crack.

The rest followed, vanishing in a deafening pop that rang in Harry's ears.

I wonder if Sophonissa's smiling somewhere. A strange soft sadness tugged at the corner of his mouth. I told you I wouldn't let it all be for nothing.

Cracks of apparition rang through the city, little flickers of white and black robes appearing and disappearing across the marble houses and hanging gardens, and spells flashed beneath the waterfall cascading from the bronze beaks of the two-headed eagle.

More dreams turned to dust. Harry twirled his wand in his fingers, showering the ancient walls in silver sparks as the curses faded away. But they won't be sacrificed for nothing this time. All these people who would've had their wishes wasted in the collision of two worlds will get something worthy for it. Something just perfect enough.

Cedric appeared with a loud pop as the city fell silent. 'We found a few people and there were a few janissaries who made a last stand in the Nymphaeon. The city is empty now.'

'Thank you, Cedric. You should go back now.'

'Harry…' He hovered a few steps away, staring out to sea. 'Why are you doing this? You could have come back a hero years ago…'

'You know why.' Harry felt the storm stir, its soft murmur of yearning a gentle tug upon his heart. 'Just one wish would've been enough, but we live in a cruel senseless crucible, and until we change that, it will turn us to ash or make monsters of us all.'

'I'm sorry, you know.'

'For what?'

'For Katie. Katie Bell.' Cedric's eyes fell to the floor. 'I never got to say it back then; she died, then you were suddenly just gone. And then it was all over and you were dead.'

'Dying is what heroes do, isn't it?' Harry reached up and pulled the amber mask from his face, staring down into the dawn-bright rays of golden light swirling through the glowing embers of the willow. 'I'm sorry for Cho. She died on the beach at Atlantis, if it helps somehow to know, just a few steps from where the Mirror of Erised is.'

Cedric stared at him. 'Who…?'

'You know who.'

Bitter hate flashed through his eyes and his wand snapped up. 'Why?'

'Because it was my dream or hers.' He glanced at Cedric's wand. 'Did she tell you what she did as an Unspeakable?'

'She would come home crying and cursing Amelia Bones,' Cedric whispered; the tip of his wand trembled. 'But she never talked about it. I try not to think about which of the horrors might be her doing.'

'It can't be changed now.' Harry pointed his wand down at the small island below. 'All that matters is that it happened for a reason, for something worth sacrificing perfect wishes.'

Cedric bowed his head. 'Will it really work?'

'If enough people wish to change the world, it can be changed,' he murmured. 'Je te le promets. We will make our wish real. We will not be stopped, not by Suleiman or Grindelwald or anyone. Even if we die and disappear, it will still bring us a step closer.' The corner of his mouth twisted up into a wry bitter smile. 'It's already done. It's certain. We don't need to wait or wish or hope, just fight, and maybe some of us will survive to see the sunrise.'

Cedric lowered his wand. 'And then, Harry?'

'Go join the others, Cedric. Stay well back.'

Cedric opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, but sighed and disapparated with a crack like a breaking branch.

After the sun rises, Cedric, I think I just disappear. When there are no dreams left, there's no point. Harry placed the amber mask back over his face and apparated down to the road before the gate; the tug on his heart turned bittersweet, twisting in his breast, as sharp as a razor. And I deserve it. I belong to this world, not the beautiful one to come.

He raised his wand and let the storm sweep his heart away into its screaming, searing winds.

Golden butterflies streamed from the tip of his wand, swirling together into a single figure of blazing amber flame.

'Fleur,' Harry breathed, the air slipping from his lungs, ripped from lips by desperate burning need.

She stood in a dress of shivering, rippling fire, her bare feet melting the marble into bubbling pools of glowing orange lava, her eyes as bright as the first light of dawn, her hair a cascade of golden flames fluttering like silk in the breeze, blazing from her shoulders like the trail of a falling star.

Tu me manques, mon Rêve.

The searing heat of her turned the tears on his cheeks to steam behind the mask, scorching his fingers as he reached out and conjured a bright red rose in his left hand.

You and our baby bird.

The crimson petals curled and blackened as he held it out to her, smouldering bright orange at their edges as they turned to ash, and little flecks floated down past the sharp red thorns; its stem burst into flames as she turned away.

Harry let it fall into the bubbling lava and burn away to a wisp of dark smoke, his aching heart sinking back into the scream of the storm.

She reached out to touch one finger to the bronze gates and Constantinople trembled.

The gates gave with a groan, ripped from their hinges and sucked into a whirl of golden fire; the thin red bricks of the gate and walls crumbled into it, spun into a swirl of searing amber embers and dawn-bright golden flame.

The city lurched, hurling Harry to his knees.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered, his heart sinking into the numb cold despair at the storm's eye as he stared up at her. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'

Chunks of the Roman road collapsed around him and, with a thunderous rumble, Constantinople broke away and plummeted into the sea with a great crash, sinking into foaming swirling white waves.

The marble split apart below his feet and he fell, the cold wind ripping through his hair and snapping at his robes.

Marzanna plucked him from the air in her talons and swooped low over the sea, setting him down upon the giant bronze eagle's right head.

Lost beneath the waves. Like Kart Hadasht.

Harry slipped his wand back into his sleeve and sat down on the tip of the beak, dangling his boots down before the fountaining water, watching it cascade through the tangle of floating green and bright flowers below his feet into the waves.

But not quite yet, not all of the magic that kept it floating has failed.

'I think I'll just stay here for a bit,' he murmured. 'To watch it disappear.'

AN: The linktree! To find loads more chapters and works of mine!

linktr . ee / mjbradley