Dorian woke with a sharpness in his mind that he hadn't felt in days. The whispers of dark magic, which had grown louder with each passing moment, now seemed to hum beneath the surface of his thoughts. He could feel the magic coursing through his veins like a second heartbeat, guiding him toward something — something Kara had known, and something he now had to uncover.
The morning sunlight cut through the narrow windows of Durmstrang like cold blades, casting long, angular shadows across the stone floor. The castle felt quieter than usual, as though it was holding its breath. Or perhaps that was just Dorian's perception. Ever since the rumors of Kara's death had circulated, a tension had settled over the school like a heavy fog. Everyone felt it. Even the professors seemed on edge, their lectures sharper, their eyes constantly scanning for signs of unrest.
Dorian, however, thrived in this atmosphere. The fear, the uncertainty—it fueled him.
He stepped out of his dormitory and into the hallway, his movements deliberate, each step calculated. His mind was already running through the events of the past weeks, piecing together the puzzle that Kara had left behind. If there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that she had been hunting for something. An artifact, perhaps, tied to Slytherin's legacy—a legacy Dorian now claimed as his own.
But she had been reckless. Too reckless. And now she was dead.
As he passed a group of younger students huddled together, their whispers faltered, eyes darting toward him. He ignored them. The fear in their eyes was familiar, comforting even. It reminded him of the days when his father had instilled the same kind of fear into their family's enemies—before the betrayal, before the downfall.
The halls were emptier as he made his way toward the library. It was still early, and most of the students were either still in their dormitories or attending breakfast. But Dorian had no interest in idle conversations or morning meals. His thoughts were consumed with darker matters.
He had a theory—a growing suspicion about Kara's death. Lyra had hinted at it in her own way, and though Dorian trusted her more than most, there were still parts of her he could never fully understand. She had always been composed, always careful, but lately, she had grown quieter, more distant. It wasn't like her. Lyra wasn't one to shy away from confrontation or power struggles, yet ever since Kara's death, she had taken a backseat, letting the rumors fester without addressing them directly.
Was it possible she knew more than she was letting on?
Dorian shook the thought from his mind. Lyra had no reason to kill Kara. If anything, she had been the one person he could trust amid all the chaos. She had been his anchor, reminding him to stay grounded, to keep his ambition in check. He couldn't afford to lose that, not now.
The library doors loomed before him, their dark wood carved with intricate runes that glowed faintly in the dim light. Dorian pushed them open and stepped inside, the familiar scent of old books and parchment washing over him.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw Professor Ivan Volkov, Durmstrang's ancient librarian, sitting behind his usual desk, his long fingers gliding over a weathered tome. Volkov looked up as Dorian entered, his cold, calculating eyes narrowing slightly.
"Selwyn," Volkov rasped, his voice like the creak of a rusted door. "You've been spending a great deal of time here recently. I hope you're not stirring up trouble."
Dorian allowed a faint smirk to cross his lips. "Only seeking knowledge, Professor. You know me."
Volkov's expression didn't change. He wasn't one to be charmed or intimidated easily. He had seen too many students rise and fall under the weight of their own ambitions, and Dorian was no different to him. Still, Volkov had always been neutral, never one to interfere unless the sanctity of his library was at stake.
"Knowledge can be dangerous in the wrong hands," Volkov replied, his gaze sharp. "Be careful where you tread, Selwyn."
Dorian said nothing as he moved past Volkov's desk and deeper into the restricted section of the library. He knew exactly where he needed to go, having spent hours combing through the archives after Kara's death, piecing together the fragments of information she had left behind. The book he had found the night before—the one tied to Slytherin—was only the beginning. Kara's ambition had led her to chase something far greater, and Dorian was determined to finish what she had started.
The restricted section was darker, the shelves taller and more imposing, filled with volumes that most students were forbidden from touching. Here, the air felt heavier, the weight of ancient knowledge pressing down on him. Dorian's fingers brushed over the spines of several books, his eyes scanning the titles as he walked past them.
Then, he found it.
It was an unremarkable book at first glance, its leather cover worn and faded, the title barely legible. But Dorian recognized the runes etched into the spine—Slytherin's mark. He pulled the book from the shelf and opened it carefully, his eyes widening as he skimmed the first few pages. This was it. The missing piece Kara had been searching for.
The pages spoke of an artifact—an ancient relic tied to Salazar Slytherin himself. It had been hidden away centuries ago, protected by powerful wards, and said to grant its wielder unimaginable strength. But there was a cost. The artifact was bound to its master's will, and only those who could fully control its power would survive.
Dorian's heart quickened as he continued reading, the words seeping into his mind like poison. This was what he had been searching for. This was what Kara had died for.
He closed the book and slipped it into his robe, careful not to draw attention as he made his way back toward the entrance. But before he could leave, a voice broke through the silence.
"You found it, didn't you?"
Dorian froze, turning slowly to see Lyra standing at the far end of the aisle, her expression unreadable. Her eyes flickered to the book hidden in his robe before meeting his gaze again.
"You've been following Kara's trail," she continued, stepping closer. "Trying to find what she was after."
Dorian tensed, his mind racing. "You knew?"
Lyra nodded, her face calm. "I suspected. Kara wasn't subtle about her ambitions. And neither are you."
Dorian's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"
Lyra stopped a few feet away from him, her gaze steady. "I'm saying that whatever you found in that book... it's dangerous. And if Kara died for it, you might too."
Dorian felt a surge of anger rise within him, the dark magic whispering in his mind, urging him to push her away, to take what was his and leave her behind. But Lyra's words, calm and measured, pulled him back from the edge.
"I don't plan on dying," Dorian said coldly. "And I don't plan on failing."
Lyra's eyes softened, though her voice remained steady. "Neither did Kara."
The words hung in the air like a challenge, and for a moment, Dorian wasn't sure whether Lyra was warning him or testing him. He had always trusted her, but now, with Kara's death and the artifact so close, that trust felt fragile.
"I'm not Kara," Dorian replied, his voice low and dangerous. "I won't make her mistakes."
Lyra held his gaze for a long moment before nodding. "I believe you."
Dorian didn't know if she truly believed him or if she was merely saying what he wanted to hear. But it didn't matter. He had the book. He had the key to unlocking Slytherin's power. And now, nothing would stop him.
Not Kara's death.
Not Lyra's warnings.
Not the fear that clawed at the edges of his mind.
He was the heir of the Selwyn family, bound by blood to Salazar Slytherin's legacy. And soon, he would claim the power that was rightfully his.
But as he left the library, the dark magic pulsing beneath his skin, a single thought echoed in his mind—one he couldn't shake, no matter how hard he tried.
How far are you willing to go, Dorian?
And for the first time in a long while, Dorian wasn't sure he knew the answer.