The torches lining the halls of Durmstrang flickered weakly, their glow barely cutting through the encroaching darkness. A biting cold permeated the castle, more intense than usual, as though the ancient stones themselves sensed the shifting power within its walls. Dorian Selwyn strode through the corridors, his black cloak trailing behind him, his mind racing with the possibilities laid out before him. He had always known that Durmstrang was a place of shadows, but now, the shadows seemed deeper than ever.
Since Ingrid's death, Dorian had been pushing the limits of his power, exploring the boundaries of the dark magic he had embraced. It was no longer about vengeance or even about reclaiming his family's legacy. His hunger had grown more profound—he wanted more than just control; he wanted dominance. But as much as he tried to stay in command of the magic, it seemed to grow wilder with every passing day, slipping further from his grasp.
Kara Albrecht's words still lingered in his mind like a venom, tempting him to let go of the control he so desperately clung to. She had planted seeds of doubt, reminding him that true power wasn't about restraint—it was about surrendering to the chaos, embracing it fully. The offer of an alliance with her still stood, a path that would lead him to untold heights of power, but at what cost?
He paused at the door to the library, his hand hovering just above the brass handle. Inside was where he had always come for answers, for secrets. But now, it felt as though even the library couldn't offer him what he truly sought—control over himself.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The familiar scent of old parchment and dust greeted him, and the cold stone walls gave the place a sense of timelessness. Few students ventured here, and those who did stayed in the well-lit, open areas. But Dorian had no intention of lingering there. He crossed the main room, heading toward the back of the library where the restricted texts were kept.
As he neared the shadowy corner, a faint rustling sound stopped him. Dorian's hand went to his wand, his senses alert. He wasn't in the mood for an interruption. But when he stepped forward, a familiar voice broke the silence.
"You've been harder to find these days, Selwyn."
It was Matthias Borgin, his tone light, but with an edge of wariness that hadn't been there before. Dorian turned to see the lanky student leaning against one of the tall shelves, his arms crossed over his chest.
Dorian narrowed his eyes. "What do you want, Borgin?"
Matthias pushed off from the shelf and took a step closer, his expression unreadable. "I've heard things. Rumors. People are saying you've been digging deeper into the forbidden stuff. Dark magic. Dangerous magic."
"Since when do you care about rumors?" Dorian replied, his voice cold.
Matthias shrugged but didn't drop his gaze. "I don't. But I care when those rumors come with a price on your head. Yaxley isn't the only one who's noticed your... activities. The staff has been watching you, too."
Dorian's jaw tightened. He knew that the professors were more aware of his actions lately, but he hadn't thought they'd intervene. At least, not yet.
"Let them watch," Dorian said, his voice low. "They won't stop me."
Matthias hesitated for a moment before speaking again, his tone more serious. "You need to be careful. You're playing with fire, and I don't just mean the magic. Kara Albrecht's sniffing around, and from what I've seen, she's not one to share power."
Dorian's eyes flashed at the mention of Kara. "I can handle Kara."
"Can you?" Matthias countered, stepping closer. "She's dangerous, Selwyn. More dangerous than you might think. If she's offering you an alliance, it's because she wants something. And if she doesn't get it, she won't hesitate to take you down."
For a moment, Dorian felt a surge of irritation—Matthias was underestimating him. Kara may have her own agenda, but Dorian wasn't so easily manipulated. Still, there was truth in Matthias's words. Kara was no fool, and she wasn't offering her help out of generosity. She saw in him a potential partner—or a future rival.
"I'm not interested in alliances," Dorian said after a pause. "Not with her. Not with anyone."
Matthias raised an eyebrow, as if considering whether to push the matter further. "Well, if you're going to go it alone, you'd better watch your back. Word is, Yaxley's still out there, and from what I've heard, he's got plans."
The mention of Yaxley sent a chill down Dorian's spine. The last time they had crossed paths, Ingrid had paid the price. Yaxley had fled before Dorian could finish him, but the thought of him still lurking in the shadows gnawed at Dorian's mind. Yaxley wasn't done, and if Matthias was right, the next confrontation wouldn't be so easily won.
"I'll deal with Yaxley when the time comes," Dorian said, though his voice lacked the certainty he wanted it to have. He turned away from Matthias, dismissing him with a flick of his hand. "You should be more concerned with yourself."
Matthias lingered for a moment, watching Dorian carefully before he finally stepped back. "Fine. But remember, Selwyn—this place is full of shadows, and not all of them are on your side."
Without another word, Matthias slipped back into the darkness of the library, leaving Dorian alone with his thoughts.
Later that night, Dorian stood on the edge of the castle grounds, staring out over the frozen lake that stretched beyond the walls of Durmstrang. The sky was clear now, the stars shimmering overhead, but the cold wind cut through him like a knife. His breath rose in white clouds as he watched the moon reflect off the ice.
The conversation with Matthias had left a bitter taste in his mouth. He hated feeling as though he was being watched—by the professors, by Kara, by Yaxley. It felt as though everyone was waiting for him to make a move, to either rise or fall.
Dorian's hand clenched around his wand as the whispers of the dark magic stirred within him once again. It had been quiet since his last ritual in the dungeons, but now, it was growing louder, calling to him.
The power was there, waiting for him to embrace it fully. He knew that. And yet, something held him back.
Kara's words echoed in his mind. Control is an illusion. Embrace the chaos.
For so long, Dorian had believed that power was something he could control, something he could wield with precision. But the more he delved into the dark magic, the more he realized how difficult it was to maintain that control. The magic was like a storm, wild and dangerous, and it demanded more from him than he was willing to give.
But was that fear holding him back? Or was it something else?
A soft sound behind him made him turn. Standing just a few feet away, her cloak pulled tightly around her, was Lyra Blackthorn. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the moonlight, and her eyes—usually so calm—held a quiet intensity.
"You're not an easy person to find," she said, her voice soft but carrying over the wind.
Dorian didn't respond at first, but he didn't need to. Lyra had a way of understanding him without words, and he appreciated that more than he cared to admit.
"I heard what Matthias told you," Lyra continued, stepping closer. "About Yaxley. About Kara. They're circling you, Dorian. They see your power, and they want it for themselves."
"I know that," Dorian said, his voice hardening. "But they won't take it."
Lyra's gaze softened. "I'm not saying they will. But if you're not careful, you'll become just like them. Hungry. Desperate. Willing to destroy everything to get what you want."
Dorian's heart clenched. "And what's wrong with that?"
Lyra stepped even closer, her breath misting in the cold air as she spoke. "Because that's not who you are."
Dorian's jaw tightened. "You don't know who I am, Lyra."
"Yes, I do," she said quietly. "I see it in you every time we talk. You're not like them. You want power, yes, but not for the same reasons. You still have something left to fight for—something more than just yourself."
Her words hit him harder than he expected. Dorian looked away, his mind racing. Was she right? Was there still a part of him that hadn't been consumed by the darkness? And if so, what was it? What was he still fighting for?
Lyra took a step back, giving him space. "You don't have to answer me now. But think about it, Dorian. Think about who you want to be before it's too late."
With that, she turned and walked back toward the castle, leaving Dorian alone once again. But this time, her words lingered in the air like a challenge—one he wasn't sure he was ready to face.
As he stared out over the frozen lake, the whispers of the dark magic grew quieter, but they didn't disappear. They were always there, waiting for him to make his choice.
And Dorian knew that soon, he would have to.