[ Lyra Blackthorn's POV ]
Lyra stood at the edge of the Great Hall, watching the Durmstrang students filter in for the evening meal. The atmosphere was still tense, the deaths of Kara Albrecht and Jannik casting a shadow over the school. Whispers of paranoia filled the air, and students exchanged nervous glances. The faculty was working overtime to restore order, but the fear had taken root deep within the halls. For most, the danger seemed abstract, but for Lyra, it was becoming all too real.
She clenched her fists as she leaned against the cold stone wall, her mind racing. This needed to end, and it needed to end fast. Kara's death had been necessary. That woman had been a threat to Dorian, her reckless ambitions pushing him further into darkness. Lyra had taken action to protect him—to preserve the fragile bond they shared. But things had spun out of control. Jannik's death had been unexpected, and now the school was teetering on the brink of chaos.
Lyra breathed deeply, forcing herself to focus. No, she thought. This isn't the time to hesitate. This isn't the time to feel guilt. The darkness she'd tapped into to kill Kara had whispered promises of control, of power. It had given her the strength to act when others faltered. But now, those whispers were becoming louder, more insistent, and harder to silence.
She closed her eyes, feeling the pulse of dark magic within her. It had always been there, lurking just beneath the surface. As the heir of the Blackthorn family—one of the oldest and most influential dark wizarding families—she had always known the power she could wield if she chose to. But she hadn't expected how intoxicating it would feel, how it would start to slip beyond her grasp.
Lyra opened her eyes and scanned the room, searching for her next move. She couldn't afford to let things spiral further. The faculty were starting to investigate the murders more seriously, and the rumors about dark magic were spreading too quickly. She needed a scapegoat—someone close to Kara, someone expendable.
Her eyes landed on Aric Lestrange, a student who had often been seen with Kara. He wasn't a major player, just one of those hanger-ons who gravitated toward powerful students to gain favor. He was perfect—weak-willed, easy to manipulate, and desperate to avoid suspicion himself.
I need to finish this, Lyra thought. No more loose ends. I'll make sure the truth is buried, and Dorian will be safe.
She straightened up, pushing off the wall and moving gracefully across the hall, her dark cloak trailing behind her. Her heart pounded in her chest, but her mind was calm, focused. She had made her choice, and she would follow through. For Dorian. For herself.
Later that night, Lyra found Aric alone in one of the darker corridors of Durmstrang, away from prying eyes. He didn't see her approach, and when she stepped out of the shadows, his face paled.
"Lyra," he stammered, his voice betraying his nerves. "I—uh, I didn't see you there."
"I need to talk to you," she said, her voice smooth, betraying none of the turmoil that brewed beneath the surface. She stepped closer, her wand hidden but ready.
"About what?" Aric swallowed, clearly uncomfortable.
"Kara. You were close to her, weren't you?"
Aric's eyes widened in panic. "I—I don't know anything about what happened. I swear!"
Lyra smiled coldly. "That's not what I heard." She stepped closer still, her presence looming over him. Aric backed up slightly, his shoulders pressing against the stone wall.
"I didn't—" he began, but Lyra cut him off.
"You were there the night Kara died," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Weren't you, Aric?"
He shook his head quickly, fear blooming in his eyes. "No, no, I wasn't! I swear!"
Lyra's eyes narrowed. "I'm not asking, Aric. I'm telling you." She reached out with her magic, feeling the familiar pull of the Imperius Curse. Her wand was barely visible as she whispered the incantation, her voice low and commanding. "Imperio."
Aric's face slackened instantly, his eyes glazing over as the curse took hold. Lyra felt a surge of satisfaction as she watched him succumb to her will. The darkness inside her purred in approval, the whispers momentarily silenced.
She stepped closer, her breath warm against his ear. "You're going to confess," she murmured, her words slipping into his mind like silk. "You were working with Kara. You knew everything—her connections, her plans. You're the one responsible for her death."
Aric nodded, his movements robotic, his mind completely under her control.
"Go to the headmaster's office. Confess everything," Lyra continued. "Make sure they believe you. No hesitation, no mistakes."
Again, Aric nodded, his face blank, as though he had already accepted his fate.
Lyra stepped back, lowering her wand. She watched as Aric turned and walked away, heading toward the headmaster's office. She knew that by morning, the scandal would be over. The investigation would close, and the school would settle down. Aric would confess to being the mastermind behind Kara's death, and no one would question it. The faculty would be eager to put this entire mess behind them.
But even as she watched Aric disappear down the corridor, a cold weight settled in her chest. She had done what was necessary, but at what cost? The darkness she had wielded so easily now felt like a chain around her neck, tightening with every decision she made.
Lyra leaned against the wall, her hands trembling slightly. She couldn't let herself fall apart. Not now. Not when she was so close to securing Dorian's safety. But for the first time, she felt the cracks forming—the edges of her control fraying. The Imperius Curse had flowed from her wand with too much ease. The power she had wielded over Aric, the control... it had felt too natural, too comfortable.
She shook her head, trying to dispel the doubts creeping into her mind. This was for Dorian. It had always been for him.
But he doesn't know, does he? a small voice whispered in the back of her mind. He doesn't know what you've done for him. How far you've gone.
Lyra clenched her fists. Dorian didn't need to know. He couldn't know. She had taken these actions for his sake, to protect him from the dangers that lurked around every corner. She was doing what was necessary, what no one else could.
But as she walked away from the corridor, her steps echoing in the empty halls, Lyra couldn't shake the feeling that the darkness within her was slipping further out of her control. The whispers were growing louder again, no longer content to be silenced.
This was just the beginning.