The days after Jannik's death passed in an odd sort of calm. Dorian noticed the shift in the atmosphere around Durmstrang—students no longer whispered as much, and the dark cloud of suspicion that had hung over the school began to fade into the background. The halls were quieter, the tension dissipating like a fog lifting from the grounds. The headmaster's speech about the incident seemed to have had the desired effect; with a scapegoat found in Aric, the matter was considered closed by most of the student body.
Dorian, however, hadn't forgotten. The pieces still didn't fit together perfectly, and the mystery gnawed at the back of his mind. But as days turned into weeks, the need for answers was replaced by the need for something more immediate—control. Control over his growing power, control over his future. He knew that losing himself in the dark magic that now thrummed through his veins was a risk he couldn't afford to take.
But control wasn't something he could find on his own.
It was Lyra who had become an anchor for him, whether she knew it or not. Their time together had increased since the last bout of chaos settled. Though he would never admit it, he had missed her presence during the height of the investigations. While he was relieved that neither of them had been implicated in Kara's and Jannik's deaths, it was Lyra's calm, calculated approach that kept him grounded. Where he often found himself driven by ambition and vengeance, she offered a different perspective—one that was strangely comforting.
One afternoon, as the sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden light through the tall windows of Durmstrang's upper tower, Dorian found himself walking with Lyra along one of the castle's more secluded paths. It had become something of a routine, these walks. They talked less about the politics of the school or their ambitions and more about the nuances of magic, the history of their families, and occasionally, their thoughts on the future—an odd mix of shared wariness and mutual respect that had grown into something neither of them had expected.
"I've always liked this part of the castle," Lyra said, breaking the silence as they passed through a shaded corridor with intricate carvings along the stone walls. "It's quiet—peaceful, almost. Hard to imagine that a place like Durmstrang could have corners like this."
Dorian nodded but didn't reply immediately. He was content to listen to her voice, absorbing the way she spoke with a kind of thoughtful detachment. He had grown to appreciate these moments, where they didn't need to be plotting or scheming—where they could just… exist.
"You've been quieter lately," she noted, glancing at him with a sideways look. "It's not like you."
Dorian exhaled, watching the shadows play across the floor as they walked. "A lot has happened," he said after a moment. "I needed some time to process everything."
"Processing. Right." Lyra smiled faintly, a hint of sarcasm in her tone. "And here I thought you were just brooding."
Dorian gave her a sidelong glance, unable to suppress the smallest of smirks. "I don't brood."
"Of course not." She let the comment hang in the air, her tone light.
There was something about these exchanges that felt comfortable, even easy—like a reprieve from the intensity that usually surrounded his life. With Lyra, he didn't have to be calculating every move, watching for betrayals, or constantly on guard. It was… different.
The silence between them stretched on for a while, but it wasn't awkward. The breeze coming in through the open windows carried the scent of the pine forest that surrounded Durmstrang, and Dorian felt the weight on his shoulders lighten, if only a little.
"Do you ever think about what's next?" Dorian asked suddenly, breaking the quiet. He wasn't sure why he asked, but the question had been lingering in his mind. With everything that had happened—his thirst for power, the dark magic that had begun to feel more like a companion than a curse, and the ever-growing uncertainty of his future—he found himself questioning what his next step should be. What his end should be.
Lyra glanced at him thoughtfully. "Next in terms of what? After Durmstrang?"
"After… everything," Dorian clarified, stopping by the window and looking out over the grounds. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the snow, making the world below look both beautiful and desolate.
Lyra came to stand beside him, her gaze distant. "I think about it sometimes," she admitted. "But honestly? I don't know. We're playing in dangerous waters, Dorian. Dark magic doesn't leave much room for a future as most people would define it."
Dorian's jaw tightened. He knew she was right. But that didn't stop him from wanting more. More power, more control, more everything. He had come too far to turn back now, but Lyra's words cut through his ambition with a sharp clarity he rarely allowed himself to acknowledge.
"And you?" Lyra asked, her voice quieter now. "What do you want after all of this?"
Dorian turned to face her, his eyes locking onto hers. He hesitated, something unfamiliar stirring in his chest—something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time. "I don't know," he said, his voice softer than usual. "But I know one thing…"
Lyra raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.
"You're the first real friend I've ever had."
The words felt heavy, almost foreign, as they left his mouth, and for a moment, he regretted saying them aloud. But they were the truth. He had never had anyone he could truly trust—anyone who had seen him for what he was and stayed. Ingrid had been a mentor of sorts, but she had always tried to change him, to pull him away from the dark path he had chosen. Lyra was different. She didn't try to fix him. She accepted him for who he was, flaws and all.
Lyra didn't respond immediately. She studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable, before she gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod. "And you're mine," she said simply.
Dorian felt a strange warmth settle in his chest at her words. It wasn't like him to care about these kinds of things—friendship, companionship. He had spent most of his life focused solely on power and vengeance, on making sure that no one could hurt him or control him. But here, with Lyra, he felt something different. He didn't need to constantly be on guard. With her, he could just… be.
They stood in silence for a while longer, the sun continuing its descent until the sky was painted in shades of orange and red. It was peaceful—something Dorian rarely experienced. But in that moment, he realized how much he had missed it.
"Come on," Lyra said after a while, nudging him lightly. "Let's head back. We still have that lesson on advanced wards tomorrow, and I'm sure you want to be well-rested before you show everyone up again."
Dorian chuckled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Of course," he said, falling into step beside her as they made their way back toward the main part of the castle.
As they walked, Dorian found himself thinking about the future again—about what came next. He still had ambitions, still had goals that drove him forward. But now, for the first time in a long time, those ambitions weren't just fueled by revenge or power. He had something else—someone else—to think about.
Lyra might have been the first real friend he had ever had, but she was also more than that. She was a reminder that he wasn't alone in this. That no matter how dark things became, there was still someone who understood him—someone who would stand by his side.
As they walked together in the fading light, Dorian allowed himself a small, private smile. Whatever came next, he knew that he wasn't facing it alone.