The tension in Durmstrang was palpable in the days leading up to the registration for the Death Valley Tournament. Rumors swirled through the corridors like a thick fog, and students whispered in hushed tones about who would sign up and who would have the nerve to face the dangers that awaited in the cursed valley. Dorian could feel the anticipation rising, not just in himself, but in the school as a whole. This was the moment every ambitious student had been waiting for—the chance to prove their strength, their power, and their mastery over magic.
The dark magic that had been coursing through Dorian since he performed his first dangerous rituals now felt like a living thing inside him. Without Lyra's calming presence, it had become more erratic, more difficult to control. He often found himself staring into the shadows, his thoughts wandering to the darkness that whispered to him at all hours of the day.
He missed her. He missed the way she would challenge him, ground him, and pull him back from the brink. But Lyra wasn't here. She was somewhere far away, facing her own struggles with the darkness, and he couldn't rely on her to be his anchor anymore. He would have to face the tournament alone, without her guidance or stabilizing influence. And yet, a part of him welcomed it. Lyra had always been a reminder of balance and control, but now that she was gone, there was no one left to hold him back. No one to tell him that he was going too far.
Dorian had already made up his mind. The Death Valley Tournament was his opportunity to take the next step in his quest for power. He needed the Talisman of Eldros—it wasn't just about winning the tournament anymore, it was about solidifying his control over the dark magic inside him. The talisman was said to enhance magical abilities, and more importantly, stabilize volatile power. It was exactly what Dorian needed to tame the growing storm within.
The day before the registration, the atmosphere at Durmstrang was electric. Students were nervous, excited, and some were downright terrified. Dorian could see it in their eyes as they passed him in the halls, glancing at him with a mixture of awe and fear. His reputation had grown significantly since his arrival, and there were whispers that he was one of the most powerful students Durmstrang had seen in years. But those same whispers carried a note of caution—everyone knew Dorian dabbled in dark magic, and those who knew him well enough understood that he was not to be underestimated.
As Dorian made his way to class, he overheard bits of conversations among the other students.
"Are you signing up for the tournament?" one boy asked another, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't know," the second boy replied nervously. "I've heard the creatures in the valley are… unnatural. And the traps—there's a reason so many don't come back."
Dorian kept walking, his mind focused on his own preparations. The creatures and traps were just obstacles, challenges to be overcome. He wasn't afraid—he had faced worse. What truly mattered was the prize at the end of it all.
Later that day, during Potions class, the atmosphere was particularly tense. The students were on edge, their nerves frayed by the impending tournament. Dorian sat at his usual spot, quietly observing the class. The potion they were working on today was a delicate one, requiring careful attention, but no one seemed to be able to focus. Every now and then, someone would glance up, casting nervous looks around the room.
As the class continued, Dorian noticed that the mood felt even more uneasy than usual. Something was off. He could feel it—a subtle shift in the air, as if a dark cloud had settled over the school. His instincts, honed by years of dark magic, told him that something was about to happen.
Halfway through the lesson, Professor Igor Karkaroff entered the room, his presence immediately commanding attention. The Potions professor stopped mid-instruction, stepping aside to let Karkaroff take center stage.
"Students," Karkaroff began, his voice carrying the same authority it always did. "I have come to inform you of some news that will concern all of you, especially those planning to participate in the Death Valley Tournament."
Dorian's attention sharpened. Something important was coming.
"As many of you know," Karkaroff continued, "the tournament is not without its risks. In past years, students have entered the valley and never returned. This is not a matter to be taken lightly. However, we have recently discovered that the valley may be even more treacherous this year than in previous tournaments."
A murmur spread through the room, students exchanging worried glances. Dorian remained still, waiting for Karkaroff to explain.
"It appears," Karkaroff said, his expression grave, "that some of the dark creatures within the valley have been… stirred. There are forces at work that even we, the faculty, cannot fully explain. While we have done what we can to prepare for the tournament, I must warn you all—this year, the tournament may be more dangerous than ever."
The murmurs grew louder, students shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Dorian's mind raced. Stirred? Dark creatures? What could possibly have caused such a disturbance in the valley?
Karkaroff raised a hand to quiet the room. "Despite these concerns, the tournament will go on, as it is our tradition. The registration will open tomorrow, and those of you who wish to compete must understand the risks involved. The Talisman of Eldros awaits, but only those with the skill, power, and courage will survive the trials ahead."
The silence that followed Karkaroff's words was heavy. Dorian could feel the weight of it pressing down on the room. The stakes had just been raised.
That evening, Dorian retreated to his room, the sound of Karkaroff's warning still echoing in his mind. The valley's dangers were greater than expected, but that didn't deter him. If anything, it made him more determined. He had faced dangers before—he had lived with darkness his entire life. Whatever lurked in the valley, he was confident he could handle it.
Still, the idea of the dark creatures being "stirred" left him uneasy. He knew that dark magic had a way of influencing the world around it, and he couldn't help but wonder if his own experiments, or perhaps the magic of others at Durmstrang, had contributed to the disturbances in the valley. He would have to be careful—both with the creatures and with his own magic.
Dorian sat down at his desk, pulling out a piece of parchment. He hadn't written to Lyra since her last letter, but now, more than ever, he felt the need to reach out. Her absence was starting to weigh on him, and he missed the stability she brought to his life.
He dipped his quill in ink and began to write, the words flowing quickly.
Lyra,
Things have grown more intense here. The Death Valley Tournament is approaching, and I've signed up. There are rumors of dark creatures being stirred in the valley, and Karkaroff confirmed it today—this year will be more dangerous than ever. I'm ready for it, but I can't help but think about what you said in your last letter. You were right—this magic is difficult to control, but I believe the Talisman of Eldros can help stabilize it.
I hope things are going well on your end. I miss our conversations, and I find myself wishing you were here more often. It's strange—I've spent most of my life preferring solitude, but your absence has made me realize how much I valued your presence. Write back when you can.
—Dorian
He sealed the letter and sent it off with his owl, watching as it disappeared into the night sky.
The next day, Dorian woke early, the anticipation of registration day humming in his veins. The day had finally arrived. As he made his way through the halls, he noticed a similar energy buzzing through the students around him. Some were excited, others nervous, and a few looked downright terrified.
At the entrance to the main hall, a long line had already formed. Dorian approached, slipping into place behind a group of students who were whispering nervously about the creatures in the valley.
"I heard someone saw a wraith in the valley last year," one of them said.
"My brother told me about them," another replied. "They feed on magic. If you get too close, they'll drain you dry."
Dorian smirked to himself. Wraiths were dangerous, yes, but they could be controlled. He had spent enough time researching them to know how they operated. Still, hearing the fear in the students' voices made him realize just how unprepared some of his competitors were.
When it was finally his turn to register, Dorian stepped forward, the attendant giving him a wary look as he handed over the parchment.
"Dorian Selwyn," the attendant said, scribbling down his name. "You're all set. Good luck."
Dorian nodded, tucking the parchment into his robes and stepping aside to let the next student register. His name was now officially in the tournament.
The next few days would be crucial. He had to prepare, to study, and to make sure he was ready for whatever awaited him in the valley. Failure wasn't an option. He had come too far to let anything, or anyone, stand in his way.
As Dorian walked away from the registration booth, the dark magic inside him stirred once more, filling him with a sense of purpose and power.
The countdown had begun.