Chapter 44 - Chapter 44: Shadows of Control

[ Lyra Blackthorn's POV ]

Lyra's grip on her wand tightened as she stood before the mirror, her reflection staring back at her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. The cool stone walls of her dormitory surrounded her, but she hardly noticed the chill. All she could focus on was the pulsing darkness beneath her skin, the magic that had begun to weave itself into her very essence.

She had always prided herself on control, on being the steady hand in the storm. But lately, that control had begun to slip, and Lyra could feel the darkness gnawing at the edges of her thoughts—an incessant whispering that had grown louder with each passing day. Her carefully constructed façade, the one she presented to Dorian and the rest of the world, was starting to crack.

She lowered her wand and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. But the darkness was there, lurking just beneath the surface. It had been there ever since Kara's death, ever since Lyra had felt the satisfaction of that final moment when she ended the other girl's life in the dungeons. It had been too easy, too intoxicating, to bend someone's will, to end them without remorse. And the worst part? She hadn't even flinched.

Control. I must maintain control.

Lyra repeated the mantra in her head, but it felt more hollow with every passing day. The truth was, she was losing her grip. The darkness was no longer something she commanded—it was starting to command her. And Dorian, ever so sharp and perceptive, couldn't know. He couldn't know just how close she was to the edge.

For him, she still had to be the calm in the storm. The one who guided him back from the brink when the magic threatened to consume him. But what Dorian didn't know was that the very magic she had warned him about—the dark power that had taken root inside him—was growing just as fiercely inside her.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Lyra paced the room, her thoughts racing. She had been raised to control, to harness, to direct magic with precision and grace. Her family—an influential line of dark wizards—had always taught her that power was a tool, not a weapon. But now, that same power felt like it was spiraling out of her grasp, and the more she tried to control it, the more it seemed to slip away.

The Imperius Curse had been a mistake. She knew it the moment she cast it on that student, forcing him to confess to Kara's death. It had worked perfectly, of course—he had spilled everything, clearing Lyra's name and erasing any suspicion that might have lingered. But it had been too easy. Too effortless. And the way she had felt afterward… like she was above it all, above everyone else, had unsettled her.

No guilt. No remorse. Just cold, calculating satisfaction.

Lyra stopped pacing and leaned heavily against the edge of her desk, staring blankly at the scattered parchments and books strewn across it. There had to be a way to fix this, to regain control before it spiraled any further. But the more she searched for answers, the more she realized that the darkness wasn't something that could simply be tamed.

It was part of her now. And it wanted more.

Her thoughts turned to Dorian, as they so often did lately. He was a force of nature, powerful and relentless in his pursuit of magic and revenge. But with her, he was different. He trusted her, confided in her, and relied on her in ways he didn't with anyone else. And Lyra had to admit, there was something intoxicating about being the one person Dorian Selwyn trusted completely.

I can't lose that.

Whatever was happening to her, whatever darkness was clawing at her soul, she had to keep it hidden. Dorian couldn't know. He was teetering on the edge of his own abyss, and the last thing he needed was to realize that the one person he counted on was slipping into the same darkness.

No, she had to fix this on her own. She had to find a way to rein in the dark magic before it consumed her entirely. But how?

The thought came to her suddenly, as if whispered by the very shadows she sought to control. The library. Durmstrang's hidden collection of forbidden texts and artifacts—the same one Dorian had been exploring for his own purposes. There had to be something there, something that could help her regain control, to tame the magic that was threatening to tear her apart from the inside out.

She would go tonight. When the castle was quiet and the corridors were empty, she would slip into the restricted section and find whatever answers she needed. If there was a way to keep the darkness at bay, she would find it.

But for now, she had to keep up appearances.

Lyra straightened her posture, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she moved toward the door. She couldn't afford to let her guard down around Dorian. He was too perceptive, too sharp, and if he suspected that she was losing control… no. That couldn't happen.

I'll fix this. I'll find a way.

The thought was meant to be reassuring, but deep down, Lyra wasn't sure if she believed it anymore. The darkness inside her had grown too familiar, too comfortable, and as much as she hated to admit it, part of her didn't want to let it go.

But for Dorian's sake, she had to try.

Later that evening, they met in their usual spot outside the castle walls. Dorian greeted her with a smile, the same smile that had become a fixture of their late-night conversations. Lyra returned it, her heart twisting with guilt as she did.

"How are you holding up?" Dorian asked, his eyes searching hers for any sign of weariness.

"I'm fine," Lyra lied smoothly, her voice steady. "You?"

Dorian shrugged, glancing up at the night sky. "Better, I think. It's quieter now. Less… chaos."

Lyra nodded, feeling the weight of the lie pressing down on her. She wanted to tell him the truth, wanted to confide in him the way he confided in her. But she couldn't. Not yet. Not until she had everything under control again.

They talked for a while longer, discussing the intricacies of magic and the political landscape of the wizarding world. But all the while, Lyra's mind was elsewhere, already planning her trip to the library, already searching for the answers she so desperately needed.

By the time they parted ways, the darkness inside her had grown restless again, but Lyra kept her expression calm, her voice light as she said goodnight to Dorian. She couldn't let him see the cracks forming beneath the surface.

As she made her way back through the dimly lit corridors of Durmstrang, her resolve hardened. She would find a way to control the darkness, to fix whatever was broken inside her. She had to.

Because losing control wasn't an option. Not with so much at stake.

And as the shadows whispered in her ear, Lyra couldn't help but wonder if it was already too late.