Born to Run

Forest walls and starry ceilings

Barren curtains that you’re weaving

Like the stories that you keep inside your head

Darkness stretched on, endless and suffocating. Pandora Rosier stood alone in the void. Everything around her was thick and impenetrable, yet she could feel something lurking just beyond her vision. Something calling to her. She glanced around, trying to adjust her eyes in the darkness. The chilly air pierced through her skin.

She shivered.

Pandora wasn’t afraid of the dark, not in the way most children were. She had learned to navigate its shadows, to understand the silence. But this darkness was different. It was alive, charged with an energy she didn’t quite understand.

She clenched her fists and took a step forward. The dripping water was the only sound echoing through the black emptiness, hitting the unseen ground with a rhythmic, hollow sound.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

And then she saw him.

A figure, blurry at first, but as the darkness shifted like a living thing, the boy became clearer. He was standing on the edge of an invisible shore, his feet deep in murky water that stretched out into nothingness. His hair, dark and thick, plastered to his head, dripping wet. Soaked clothes clung to his lean body. Pandora couldn’t see his face. He had his back to her, his head slightly tilted as he stared ahead.

“Who are you?” she asked, stepping closer. Her bare feet made no sound on the invisible ground.

The boy didn’t respond. His head moved slightly, as though he’d heard something but wasn’t quite sure of it. Pandora took another step, her heart pounding faster now. The water began to ripple, soft at first but growing more violent with each of her steps. The surface, once deadly still, hissed to life. Pandora glanced at the water, feeling her panic rising. She started running towards the boy, but now, no matter how many steps she took, it felt as if the distance grew longer between them. Her feet were sinking in mud.

“Who are you?” Pandora called again, louder this time. Her small hand reached out into the darkness. She was too far away to touch him. Her whole body was shaking but she didn’t understand why.

The boy finally moved. Slowly, he began to turn towards her. Pandora’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart raced as she ran through the darkness, desperate to reach him.

“Tell me your name!”

His face began to come into view. Water exploded around them. Waves surged out of nowhere, crashing over his body and swallowing him whole. Pandora screamed. The water roared like a beast, pouring from above, soaking her white nightgown and blurring her vision. Come on. Come on. She scrambled forward, hands reaching for him, but he was slipping further and further away. The tide began to pull him under with a terrifying force.

“No, wait!” Pandora cried, her voice raw as her hands kept clawing at the water. “Please, no! I can help you!”

The boy thrashed, struggling to stay afloat. The force was too strong. His body sank deeper, disappearing beneath the surface. In his final moment, his eyes locked with hers. Dark, bottomless.

And then he was gone.

Pandora screamed, a guttural, helpless sound as the darkness surged around her. She tried to move, tried to dive after him. She couldn’t breathe. Water was everywhere, crashing over her, pulling her under. She fought, kicking and flailing. The more she struggled, the deeper she sank.

 No. No. No!

She screamed again underwater. It filled her lungs with relentless pressure until the depths consumed her entirely.

Regulus Black jolted awake, gasping for air.

His chest heaved as he sat upright in bed, his hands clutching the soft, familiar blankets. He blinked rapidly, his eyes wide and wild as they adjusted to the dim light of his bedroom.

It was just a dream.

His breath came in ragged gasps as he threw off the covers and slid out of bed. It was past midnight and silence filled their country house in Brearton.

His family would travel to North Yorkshire every summer and Regulus was more than pleased to spend his time in the fresh air of the countryside. Even his mother, Walburga, seemed to be more relaxed. Her usually cold expression would soften every time she walked through the grounds of the grand mansion with her boys, pointing at the herbs of the gardens and explaining their magical properties and best techniques to brew the most powerful potions. At night, the boys would stay outside, stargazing. Sirius would tell him everything about the constellations and Regulus would listen, savouring every moment he got to spend with his older brother.

This summer though, the youngest Black was unusually wary. For the past few weeks, Regulus had been having the weirdest dreams. It always started the same way: he was flying high above the ground. That alone wasn’t a bad sign. Regulus adored flying as much as his brother did, and he was extremely skilled with a broomstick for his age. In his dreams, his body was weightless and floated through the sky and he was thrilled, laughing. But his excitement was always short-lived. As he rose further from the ground, flames would spread around him, enveloping him in their searing embrace. Each time, the sun would burn him, and Regulus would find himself falling high above the ground, screaming in agony.

Tonight it was different.

Barefoot, he hurried down the hallway to Sirius’ room. The door was slightly open and soft candlelight flickered from within. Regulus hesitated for only a moment before pushing it open.

“Sirius?”

His brother groaned softly. “Regulus?” His eyelids fluttered without fully opening.

“Yeah,” Regulus said, stepping closer to Sirius’ bed. “Can I sleep with you?”

Sirius shifted slightly and threw off his blanket. “Yeah sure,” he muttered. “What’s wrong?”

Regulus approached, sliding into the covers next to him. “Nothing, just a nightmare.”

Sirius frowned. “Another one? You’ve been having a lot of those lately.”

“I know. Perhaps I’m just nervous.”

“About Hogwarts?”

Regulus shrugged, staring blankly at the ceiling of his brother’s room. It was enchanted to depict the night sky. When they were younger and still shared the same bedroom, they would lie on Sirius’ bed, trying to identify the many constellations. The Blacks had a long-lasting tradition of naming children after stars and celestial beings; a tradition that had been around for centuries.

Sirius was named after the brightest star, the “Dog Star” in Canis Major. Regulus would try to identify his brother in their starry ceiling, and himself in the Leo constellation. He eventually learned to recognise their father’s constellation too, Orion and his belt made of three aligning gleaming stars: Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka. Sirius would say something sarcastic like, “Only three stars? Give the man a proper belt or some decent attire.” Regulus would laugh. The starry ceiling had always been a great comfort for him. Yet that night he watched the sprawl of stars above with unseeing eyes.

“It’s my first year,” he said flatly. He sounded tired. “Everything will be different.”

Sirius gave him a crooked smile. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

“No, but I still hate changes.”

“It’s alright Reggie.” Sirius turned to face him. “Just get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Regulus didn’t reply. He just closed his eyes but it was still etched in his mind; the burning sensation of cold hands clawing at his skin.