The light filtering through the tall, narrow windows of Durmstrang's ancient halls seemed dimmer than usual, casting long shadows across the stone floors. The oppressive atmosphere, though not entirely unusual in the school, felt more intense today, as if the very walls were closing in on Dorian. He walked briskly toward the library, his mind lost in thought. For once, it wasn't the lure of dark magic or hidden knowledge that pulled him. It was something else—something softer, something… human.
Lyra had become an unexpected anchor for him in the storm of chaos his life had become. Since the deaths of Kara and Jannik, Durmstrang had been on edge. Whispers of conspiracy and danger floated through the halls, but Dorian had learned to tune them out. The tension, however, seemed to dissolve when he was with Lyra. She was different—more than just a companion on his dark journey. She was a stabilizing force in his life, one that he hadn't realized he needed.
For the first time in what felt like ages, Dorian found himself heading to meet Lyra not out of strategy or necessity, but simply because he wanted to.
When he reached the secluded alcove in the library where they often met, he found her already there, reading a thick, dusty tome. The sight of her, calm and composed amid the storm of uncertainty around them, brought an unfamiliar warmth to his chest. It was strange, feeling this connection—a bond that wasn't born of manipulation or ambition. It felt genuine.
"Lost in another book, I see," Dorian remarked, leaning casually against the bookshelf.
Lyra looked up, her dark eyes meeting his. She gave him a small, knowing smile. "You know me. I can't resist. This one has some fascinating insights into ancient wards. I think we could use some of the principles for defensive magic."
Dorian raised an eyebrow as he sat down across from her. "Defensive magic? That doesn't sound like you."
She shrugged lightly, closing the book and leaning forward. "Not everything has to be about power, Dorian. Sometimes it's about protection—of ourselves, of the things that matter."
There was a weight in her words that didn't escape him. Dorian nodded slowly, his mind turning over what she said. He knew that she was right, but a part of him—perhaps the larger part—was still obsessed with gaining more power. More control. The events of the past few months had left him feeling vulnerable in ways he hadn't expected. Ingrid's death still haunted him, and even though Kara's death had been resolved in the eyes of the school, something still felt unfinished. But Lyra had always been there, subtly guiding him, reminding him that there was more to their journey than destruction.
"You've been spending a lot of time with those old tomes," Lyra noted, her voice soft but curious. "Are you still looking for something specific?"
Dorian hesitated. His initial instinct was to brush off the question, but with Lyra, he found it hard to keep up his usual walls. She saw through them anyway. "I'm not sure," he admitted after a moment. "The more I learn, the less certain I am. About everything."
Lyra didn't immediately respond, but her eyes softened as she studied him. "That's part of it, you know. The uncertainty. Magic isn't about knowing everything—it's about understanding what you can control and what you can't. You can't dominate everything, Dorian."
"I've heard that before," he muttered, his thoughts briefly flashing to Ingrid and her warnings. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
"And you'll keep hearing it until you listen," she replied, not unkindly.
They sat in silence for a while, the weight of their shared experiences hanging between them. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence. If anything, it was one of mutual understanding. Dorian found himself reflecting on how much had changed since he first arrived at Durmstrang. The boy who had walked into these halls, burning with the desire for vengeance and power, was still there—but he wasn't the same. He couldn't be. Lyra had changed him, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
"I think you're my first real friend," Dorian said suddenly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
Lyra blinked, clearly surprised, but she didn't scoff or mock him for the admission. Instead, she gave him a small, genuine smile—one that reached her eyes. "I'm glad to hear that," she said softly. "You're mine too."
The words hit him harder than expected. It wasn't that he had ever doubted their friendship, but hearing it from her felt… different. Like it solidified something that had been unspoken between them for too long.
For a moment, Dorian allowed himself to bask in that feeling. The companionship, the trust. It was strange, almost foreign, but comforting all the same. Lyra had become more than just an ally—she was someone he could rely on. Someone who, despite their shared darkness, seemed to understand him in ways no one else ever had.
The moment of warmth, however, was short-lived. The tension of Durmstrang still hung heavy in the air, and the whispers that had died down after Kara's death were beginning to stir again. Even now, Dorian could feel it—the unease, the paranoia that had settled over the student body. Something was brewing, and he couldn't shake the feeling that they were still far from safe.
"What do you think happens next?" Lyra asked, pulling him from his thoughts.
Dorian sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his temples. "I don't know. I've been trying to keep a low profile since… everything happened, but something tells me that won't last. There are always more pieces to the puzzle—more people to manipulate, more power to gain."
Lyra watched him carefully. "And is that what you want? To keep gaining power? To keep manipulating?"
He didn't answer immediately. It was a question he had asked himself often but had yet to find a satisfactory answer to. There was a time when he would have said yes without hesitation, but now… things weren't so simple. His thirst for power still burned, but Lyra's influence had forced him to think more carefully about what he truly wanted. Power, yes—but at what cost?
"I don't know," he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. "I don't know if that's what I want anymore. But I can't just stop. If I don't keep moving forward, I'll be swallowed by all of this."
Lyra nodded, her expression unreadable. "You're not alone in this, Dorian. I'm here. I'll always be here."
Her words, spoken with such quiet certainty, struck a chord deep within him. He had always considered himself alone, even in a crowd. Even with allies and enemies alike circling him, he had always been solitary in his ambition. But Lyra was different. She wasn't just another ally—she was someone who saw him, understood him, and still chose to stay by his side. It was something he hadn't realized he needed until now.
"I know," he said quietly, meeting her gaze. "And I'm grateful for that. More than you know."
For the rest of the day, they remained together, poring over old texts and discussing various magical theories, but the conversation felt different now. There was an openness between them that hadn't been there before—a sense of trust that Dorian hadn't allowed himself to feel in years.
As the evening drew closer, Dorian felt a strange sense of contentment. The darkness that had always been at the forefront of his mind seemed quieter now, more subdued. Perhaps it was Lyra's influence, or perhaps it was just the comfort of having someone he could truly call a friend. Whatever it was, Dorian knew that things were changing—slowly, perhaps, but changing nonetheless.
And for the first time in a long while, he wasn't entirely sure that was a bad thing.
By the time they parted ways that evening, Dorian felt a renewed sense of purpose. He still had his ambitions—his plans for power and revenge hadn't been forgotten—but now, with Lyra by his side, those ambitions didn't feel so all-consuming. He had something else now, something worth protecting.
As he walked through the dimly lit halls of Durmstrang, the weight of the past few months began to lift, ever so slightly. The deaths, the rituals, the betrayals—they were still there, lurking in the shadows of his mind, but they no longer felt so overwhelming. He had survived all of it, and he had come out stronger. And with Lyra by his side, he felt like he could face whatever came next.
But even as he allowed himself to feel that fleeting sense of peace, Dorian couldn't shake the feeling that something else was brewing in the shadows. Something that neither he nor Lyra could anticipate.
For now, though, he would focus on what he could control. And that, at least, felt like enough.