< Lucius >
A dragon.
Even with the fragmented memories he possessed, nothing had ever hinted at such a creature. Yet here it was—proof tangible and undeniable. He held it in his hands: a dark, pulsing orb oozing with miasma, radiating an almost oppressive energy.
"There are endless possibilities," Lucius murmured to himself, turning the orb over in his hands. "But I can't help thinking of a way to use it."
He leaned back in his usual spot—the dim, endless bunker where he had awoken. He still didn't know where it was. No matter how much he dug, how many walls he blasted through, or how high he tried to ascend, the outside world eluded him.
"Am I even on the same planet?" he wondered aloud, his voice echoing faintly in the emptiness.
No one answered.
The thought left him unnerved, but only for a moment. Lucius was not one to dwell on the impossible. He set the orb aside, his mind already racing with an idea that sparked like lightning. A grin spread across his face as he snapped his fingers and reappeared moments later with a bucket of clay he absolutely did not steal from a store.
"Now," he said, rolling up his sleeves, "what will it be?"
His hands moved instinctively, shaping the clay with a precision that felt both natural and otherworldly. A base formed first, then a figure—a childlike form, small and delicate. As he worked, time seemed to lose meaning. Hours melted into one another, and the bunker's oppressive stillness became an afterthought. Lucius was lost in the act of creation.
"The face needs to be perfect," he muttered, smoothing the clay as he began carving the sockets for the eyes and the gentle curve of a small, upturned nose. The features took shape slowly, deliberately, his crimson eyes narrowing as he focused on every detail.
He hesitated at the horns, his hands hovering over the figure's head. "Should I?" he mused. Then, with a faint smirk, he added two small, delicate horns at the hairline, blending them seamlessly into the flowing locks of clay he had sculpted.
The figure began to resemble a child, its petite frame radiating an innocent elegance. But something was missing. Lucius stepped back, studying his creation with a critical eye.
"She needs to be more than just a statue," he muttered. His fingers drummed against his thigh as an idea sparked. "Clothing."
He began sculpting again, crafting the folds of a dress reminiscent of something he'd seen in Ethan's memories—something intricate yet functional. As he worked, he recalled a figure from those memories, someone who had left an indelible impression on him.
Eyes like sapphires, an aura of quiet strength, and a grace that seemed almost otherworldly. Violet Evergarden.
Lucius grinned to himself. "Perfect."
***
The hours stretched into days. Lucius left the bunker only to gather more supplies, his obsession growing with each passing moment. He painted her dress in muted blues and whites, adding small golden accents to highlight the design. Her hair became a cascade of pale blonde, flowing over her shoulders in soft waves.
The childlike face was serene, her expression carefully balanced between innocence and purpose. Her eyes, two sockets waiting for life to fill them, were his final challenge.
"And now," Lucius murmured, reaching for the dark orb that pulsed faintly with residual energy. "The spark."
He pressed the orb against the golem's chest, watching as the miasma seeped into the clay like ink spreading through water. The figure glowed faintly, the light spreading outward from the chest and into the limbs. Lucius stepped back, his crimson eyes narrowing as he waited.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a soft hum, the golem's eyes flickered open. They were a deep sapphire blue, shining with a faint luminescence.
The golem blinked slowly, its gaze locking onto Lucius. Its small hands twitched, testing their mobility, and it took an unsteady step forward.
***
< Hope >
Hope jolted awake, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, her hands gripping the blanket tightly as if it might anchor her to reality. Landon's face burned vividly in her mind—his betrayed expression, his wide, hurt eyes staring into hers, silent and accusing. He hadn't screamed or fought back. He had just looked at her. And then he was gone.
The magic she'd unleashed in her dream still clung to her like smoke, its power so raw and all-consuming that it felt as though it hadn't fully left her. It wasn't just terrifying—it was intoxicating. The memory of it crackled under her skin, whispering promises of what she could do, what she could be, if she let go.
She turned her head, her gaze falling on Lucius's bed. It was perfectly made, as though he'd never been there at all. Her chest tightened at the sight. The room felt hollow without him. Too quiet. Too still. She rubbed her arms, trying to shake off the suffocating unease settling over her like a heavy blanket.
"Where are you?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. She sat there for a moment longer, staring at the empty bed, before swinging her legs over the side and standing. Sitting here wasn't going to fix anything.
Hope stormed out of her room, her mind a chaotic mess. Every corner she turned, she half-expected to find Lucius lounging somewhere, throwing one of his insufferable grins her way. But the hallways were eerily empty, and the further she walked, the heavier the knot in her stomach grew.
She shoved open the door to the common room, startling Caroline, who was sprawled on the couch with her laptop perched on her knees. Caroline blinked up at her, clearly unimpressed by the intrusion.
"Lucius," Hope said, her voice sharper than she intended. "Have you seen him?"
Caroline raised an eyebrow. "Nope. Not since yesterday. Why?"
"Because he's gone," Hope snapped, her words tumbling out in a rush. "And he's not answering."
Caroline tilted her head, unimpressed. "So he's off being Lucius. What's the big deal?"
Hope let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through her hair. "You didn't notice anything weird last night?"
Caroline snorted, already turning back to her laptop. "Lucius is weird. If I started keeping track, I'd never sleep."
Hope clenched her fists, biting back a retort. Arguing with Caroline wasn't going to help. Without another word, she spun on her heel and left, the sound of the door slamming behind her echoing in the quiet hallway.
She stopped a group of younger students near the cafeteria, their laughter dying as they noticed her tense expression.
"Have you seen Lucius?" she asked, her voice clipped but steady.
The kids exchanged nervous glances before one of them finally spoke up. "No, ma'am. But can you do that magic trick again?"
"Not now," Hope said flatly, brushing past them. Their disappointed faces barely registered. She couldn't focus on anything except the gnawing sense that something was wrong. The Hollow's whispers started clawing at the edges of her mind, faint but insistent.
They don't understand you. Why waste your time on them?
She shook her head sharply, muttering under her breath. "Not now. Shut up."
Her last hope was Alaric. She pushed open the door to his office without knocking, startling him and Emma, who were bent over the strange artifact Landon had stolen. The object pulsed faintly, casting eerie shadows on the walls.
"Hope?" Alaric said, frowning as he straightened. "What's going on?"
"Lucius is missing," she said quickly. "He wasn't in his room this morning, and no one's seen him."
Alaric exchanged a glance with Emma, his expression unreadable. "Lucius does what Lucius does. He'll turn up."
Hope stepped further into the room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "That's not good enough. He wouldn't just disappear without saying something."
"Maybe Elijah took him for something," Alaric offered, though his tone lacked conviction. "You know how the Mikaelsons operate. They love their secrets."
Hope's jaw tightened. "Elijah wouldn't take him without telling me."
Emma stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "Hope, Lucius is fine. He's more than capable of taking care of himself."
The reassurances didn't ease the tension coiled in Hope's chest. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she turned and left, the door slamming shut behind her.
Back in her room, the emptiness felt suffocating. Hope sank onto Lucius's bed, her hands trailing over the neatly folded blanket. It still smelled faintly of him, and the familiarity made her chest ache.
Her thoughts spiraled, the nightmare that had woken her replaying on an endless loop. Landon's face, his wide, betrayed eyes. The surge of power she'd felt, untamed and destructive. Her breaths quickened as the Hollow's whispers grew louder, sharper.
You don't need them, it murmured, curling through her mind like smoke. They don't understand you. But I do.
Her hands curled into fists, her nails biting into her palms. "Shut up," she hissed, her voice trembling.
Why fight it? the voice pressed. You've felt it. The power. It's yours. It always has been.
The room felt smaller, the air heavier, as though the walls were closing in. Hope clutched at the blanket, her knuckles white. Her vision blurred with tears she couldn't stop.
"I can't do this without you," she whispered, her voice cracking. The emptiness in the room felt like it was swallowing her whole. For the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself break. Quiet sobs shook her shoulders as she buried her face in her hands, the weight of her fear, her guilt, and her overwhelming loneliness crashing over her.
The room offered no comfort. Only the silence of Lucius's absence and the relentless pull of the Hollow, gnawing at the edges of her resolve.
===============
Sorry for the delay. I am going to need to move back to my uni, so please expect irregular updates.