The night sky above Durmstrang was thick with clouds, hiding the moon's pale light and casting the castle's stone walls into deep shadow. In the distance, the wind howled against the mountains, but inside, the halls were eerily silent. It was as if the entire school was holding its breath, waiting for something to shift.
Dorian Selwyn sat alone in his room, staring at the thick journal in front of him. Lyra's words from their last conversation still echoed in his mind, reminding him that power without control was a dangerous path, one that could consume him if he wasn't careful. He had spent the last few days pouring over the journal, absorbing the lessons of the ancient wizard who had written it. But no matter how much he learned, the hunger inside him still whispered, urging him to take more.
Control. Balance. Patience.
They were all concepts Dorian struggled with, especially now, when every instinct inside him screamed to keep pushing forward, to take every inch of power he could. His heart still ached from Ingrid's death, a wound that no amount of magic could heal. And then there was Yaxley—out there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for his moment to strike again.
But it wasn't just Yaxley anymore. Kara Albrecht had entered his world, offering an alliance with promises of mutual ambition and power. Her arrival had unsettled him, not because she was a threat but because she represented something Dorian wasn't sure he was ready to confront: the temptation to abandon balance altogether and embrace power without question.
Kara was dangerous, and Dorian knew it. But her offer was tantalizing. She had an aura of confidence and raw ambition that reminded Dorian of himself, yet her approach to magic was more aggressive, more reckless. She seemed to thrive on the chaos, where Dorian was now learning to rein it in.
Still, there was something undeniably alluring about her offer. If they worked together, they could take Durmstrang—and perhaps beyond—by storm.
But was that what he really wanted?
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. Dorian's hand instinctively went to his wand as he stood and approached the door. He half-expected to see Matthias or even Kara on the other side, but when he opened it, a tall, hooded figure stepped into the room.
Dorian recognized her immediately by the sharp glint of her eyes beneath the hood. Kara Albrecht, with her signature smirk, walked past him and into the room, closing the door softly behind her.
"You always have a way of showing up at the most interesting times," Dorian said dryly, his eyes following her as she moved to stand near the window, her arms folded casually across her chest.
Kara pulled back her hood, letting her dark hair fall over her shoulders. Her expression was calm, but there was a dangerous energy simmering just beneath the surface. "I like to think of it as good timing."
Dorian crossed his arms, leaning against the edge of his desk. "So, what brings you here? Another offer of partnership, or something else?"
Kara's smile widened, but there was no humor in it. "I'm curious about you, Selwyn. I've heard a lot of things—seen a lot of things, too. You're more cautious than I expected, and I can't decide if that's a good thing or if you're just holding yourself back."
Dorian raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly do you think I'm holding back?"
Kara's eyes glinted with something dark and eager. "Power, of course. You've got it, that much is obvious. But you're not using it—not the way you could be."
Dorian studied her carefully, his mind racing. He knew exactly what she was getting at, but he wasn't ready to show his hand just yet. "I'm using it in my own way."
Kara's smirk faded slightly, her expression hardening. "You think control is going to save you? That if you just keep everything in check, you'll come out on top? Let me tell you something, Dorian—control is an illusion. The more power you have, the more it slips through your fingers, no matter how tightly you try to hold onto it."
Dorian felt his pulse quicken. It was the same argument he had been having with himself for days now—whether to embrace the magic fully or keep trying to find balance. Kara's words were like a poison that seeped into his thoughts, confirming the doubts that had been plaguing him.
"You think throwing caution to the wind is the answer?" Dorian challenged, his voice colder now. "Look what that's done for others—Yaxley, for example. He thought he could take me down with sheer force, and look where he ended up."
Kara's eyes darkened at the mention of Yaxley, her lips tightening into a thin line. "Yaxley was a fool. He didn't understand the game, not the way you and I do."
Dorian felt a spark of something sharp and dangerous in her words. "And what game is that?"
Kara stepped closer, her gaze never leaving his. "The game of survival. Power isn't about winning battles—it's about making sure you're the one still standing when all the dust has settled. You think control will keep you safe, but the truth is, power doesn't care about balance. It doesn't care about your morality. It only cares about who has the strength to wield it."
Dorian's heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his expression neutral. He understood what Kara was saying—he had always known that power demanded sacrifice. But the question was: how much was he willing to give?
"You and I aren't so different," Kara continued, her voice low and smooth. "We both want the same thing. Power. Control. But the difference is, I'm not afraid to take it."
There it was—the challenge. Dorian could feel the tension between them rising, and for a moment, he wasn't sure whether this conversation would end in words or wands.
Kara's gaze softened slightly, though her tone remained sharp. "You have potential, Selwyn. You're stronger than most of the fools at this school. But potential isn't enough. You need to decide whether you're willing to do what it takes to claim what's yours."
Dorian's mind raced. There was truth in what she was saying. He had always believed that power was the key to everything, but recently, Lyra's words had made him doubt that belief. Kara, however, was offering him a different path. A path where he wouldn't have to hold back, where he could take everything he wanted without hesitation.
But that path came with a price.
"I'm not afraid of power," Dorian said slowly, his voice calm but firm. "But I won't let it consume me either. I've seen what happens to people who let it take over. They lose everything—everything that matters."
Kara's smirk returned, though it was more amused than cold this time. "And what exactly matters to you, Dorian? Because from where I'm standing, it seems like you've already lost a lot."
Dorian's fists clenched at his sides. Ingrid's face flashed in his mind, her sacrifice still fresh in his memory. "More than you know."
Kara tilted her head, watching him carefully. "Then maybe it's time to stop holding back. You've already crossed the line, Selwyn. You've tasted power, and you know what it can do. The only question left is: how far are you willing to go?"
Dorian's breath caught in his throat, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He had crossed the line—there was no denying that. The dark magic had already become a part of him, and no matter how much he tried to control it, there was a part of him that craved more.
But was he willing to let it consume him completely? To follow Kara's path of reckless ambition, where control was secondary to power?
"I'll give you time to think about it," Kara said, her voice cutting through his thoughts. She turned toward the door, pulling her hood back over her head. "But don't take too long, Selwyn. The world doesn't wait for those who hesitate."
Before Dorian could respond, she was gone, the door closing softly behind her.
Dorian stood there for a long time, his heart still pounding in his chest. Kara's words echoed in his mind, louder than the whispers of the dark magic that had been haunting him for so long. She had challenged him, tempted him with the promise of more—more power, more control, more of everything he had ever wanted.
But she was also dangerous, and Dorian knew that. Her offer was a double-edged sword, one that could either propel him to heights he had never imagined or drag him down into the same chaos that had consumed so many before him.
He sat down at his desk again, staring at the journal Lyra had given him. Control. Balance. Patience.
Dorian exhaled slowly, closing the journal and standing once more. Kara was right about one thing—he couldn't afford to hesitate. But that didn't mean he had to abandon everything he had been working toward. There had to be a way to find balance, to achieve his goals without losing himself entirely.
He grabbed his wand from the desk and slipped it into his pocket. There was one place where he might find the answers he sought, but it wasn't in Durmstrang's dark halls or the ancient tomes hidden in its library.
No, if he was going to find balance—if he was going to understand how to control the power inside him—he needed to go deeper.
To the dungeons.
The dungeons of Durmstrang were a labyrinth of forgotten passageways and dark chambers, most of which hadn't been used for decades. It was here that the most ancient and dangerous rituals were once performed, long before the school had become the institution it was today. These lower levels had become a sanctuary for students like Dorian, who sought to unlock the secrets of the dark arts in solitude.
As he descended the stone steps, the temperature dropped, and the air grew thicker, almost suffocating in its stillness. Dorian's wand lit the way, casting long shadows against the walls as he moved deeper into the bowels of the castle. He had been down here before, during his earlier experiments with dark magic, but now it felt different. The whispers of the magic that had once been a constant presence in his mind were quieter now, as if waiting to see what he would do next.
He reached the chamber he had been searching for—a small, circular room lined with ancient runes carved into the walls. The floor was marked with the remnants of old rituals, dark stains that hinted at the blood magic that had been practiced here long ago.
Dorian stood in the center of the room, his wand still glowing softly in the dim light. He could feel the weight of the magic in the air, the lingering traces of power that had once been summoned here. It was a dangerous place, a place where control had been lost more than once.
And yet, it was exactly what he needed.
Dorian closed his eyes, his breathing steady as he focused inward. The dark magic inside him stirred, a familiar presence that was both comforting and terrifying. He could feel it pressing against him, urging him to let go, to give in to its call.
But Dorian didn't let it overwhelm him. Not this time.
Instead, he focused on the lessons he had learned—the control, the balance. He let the magic flow through him, not fighting it, but not allowing it to take over either. It was a delicate dance, one that required every ounce of concentration he had. The magic was like a storm, wild and unpredictable, but Dorian held his ground, finding the calm within the chaos.
He raised his wand, tracing a pattern in the air, the ancient runes on the walls glowing faintly in response. The magic pulsed around him, but Dorian remained in control, his focus unyielding.
And for the first time, he felt it—true control.
It wasn't about suppressing the magic or letting it consume him. It was about understanding it, accepting it as part of himself. He had always thought that power was something to be taken, something to be wielded with force. But now, he realized that true power came from within—from the ability to control not just the magic, but himself.
As the magic settled within him, Dorian opened his eyes. The chamber was quiet, the runes no longer glowing. But the change inside him was undeniable. He had found the balance he had been searching for.
And now, he was ready to use it.