The Cave
There was something very wrong with that lake.
An undeniable sense of dread lingering over it, causing a feeling that something was profoundly amiss, to dwell in the stomach of the beholder.
As twilight embraced the cave, the once serene waters took on a haunting appearance, their surface a shifting canvas of deep blacks, ominous blues, and murky greys. No light dared to penetrate the darkness that seemed to emanate from the depths, save for the feeble lumos cast by the shivering figure standing on the desolate shore.
A gentle breeze carried with it the scent of damp earth and decaying vegetation, mingling with the musty aroma rising from the water's edge. It was a scent that spoke not of life, but of death- of the eternal cycle twisted into a grotesque dance of growth and decay. The waters themselves exuded an unsettling odor, far from the fresh fragrance of a pristine lake. The waters did not smell like water. And despite its earthy rich scent, there was an underlying hint of something ancient and primal, hinting at magicks long forgotten and best left undisturbed.
Humidity hung heavy in the air, wrapping the scene in a cloak of oppressive mist. It clung to the skin of the man like a clammy embrace, leaving a dewy sheen that reflected the fleeting light. The air was thick with anticipation and fear, crackling with a palpable sense of apprehension and dread, as if the very atmosphere itself was charged with the energy of the unseen creatures that lay beneath the surface. As if every breath drawn was tainted by the unseen horrors lurking and hidden… ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
And then there was the taste – a bitter tang of earth and minerals, tinged with a metallic undertone that made the man's stomach churn with revulsion. It lingered on the tongue like a whisper of forgotten tales. It made him gag with the need to vomit out the decaying water that had made its way down his throat, burning his esophagus. Each swallow felt like a descent into darkness, the foul water scorching with its noxious touch.
Despite the overwhelming sense of foreboding, the man found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the lake. It held him captive, drawing him closer with a magnetic pull that he could not resist, even as his instincts screamed at him to flee.
As the man stood transfixed, anger surged within him like a tempestuous tide. It bubbled up from the depths of his being, a fiery rebellion against the suffocating hold the lake had over him.
Fists clenched at his sides, he cursed the insidious power that dared to manipulate his will. How dare this body of water, this mere reflection of nature, presume to control him, to imprison his soul within its murky depths?
With a primal roar of defiance, the man unleashed his fury , channeling his rage into a potent spell. The air crackled with magic as he summoned the dark flames of the Fiendfyre curse, a blaze born from his burning anger and determination to break free from the lake's grasp.
Like all dark magic, Fiendfyre was fuelled by pure emotion. And he had the rage to spare.
As the flames erupted from his outstretched hands, they danced with malevolent energy, consuming everything in their path with voracious hunger. The inferi, those twisted creatures of the depths, recoiled in terror as the searing heat bore down upon them, evaporating the wretched water they lay dormant in and scorching their despicable forms.
With the muttered incantation, the man poured more power into the spell, fuelling the flames with his unyielding will. The inferi, driven back by the onslaught, attempted to retreat beneath the churning waters, their ghastly cries echoing across the surface like a lament for their thwarted prey.
But the man did not relent. With a relentless determination, he continued to unleash the Fiendfyre upon the lake, refusing to be dragged down into its depths by the sinister forces that dwelled within.
It wouldn’t happen.
Not again.
He wouldn’t allow it.
As the man poured his fury into the spell, the magic depletion he would potentially suffer not even on his radar, the flames responded with an intensity that surpassed his wildest expectations. They coalesced into a swirling vortex of fiery energy, taking on the form of an ethereal dragon wreathed in flames.
It was funny.
It was funny how things all seemed to make sense now that he had all the facts.
With a thunderous roar that echoed across the lake, the fiery dragon surged forth, its magnificent wings unfurling as it soared through the air.
With each beat of its fiery wings, the dragon unleashed destruction upon the cave, the inferi and the dark waters alike. Its searing breath incinerated everything in its path, reducing the sinister creatures to ash and purifying the tainted depths with its dark yet cleansing flames.
But amidst the chaos and devastation, there was also beauty – a primal beauty that transcended the mere destruction wrought by the dragon's fury. For within the flames, new life blossomed, born from the ashes of the old and bathed in the radiant light of the dragon's fire.
It was how he was still alive after all.
As the radiant light of the fiery dragon danced across his face, the man felt a profound sense of wonder wash over him. It was as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes, revealing a world brimming with possibilities and untold wonders.
In the glow of the flames, he felt the chain that had bound him to the lake for what they truly were- mere illusions, shadows cast by fear and doubt. With each flicker of the dragon's fiery wings and each inferi that disintegrated, he felt the bonds that had held him captive begin to weaken, their iron grip loosening with each passing moment.
And slowly, ever so slowly he felt as if he could breathe again.
Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the moment passed. The inferi were all gone, and his magic had shuttered once…. twice before he was forced to end the spell with a pained wince.
He tore his gaze away from the lake, his heart pounding in his chest as he stumbled backwards, desperate to put as much distance between himself and the cursed waters as possible.
A rush of adrenaline surged through his veins, propelling him away from the shoreline with every stumbling step. His heart hammered in his chest like a drumbeat of freedom, echoing the wild rhythm of his escape…. his survival.
Each breath heaved from his chest as if he had just completed a marathon, his lungs burning with effort. Yet, to his surprise, he found himself not depleted of his magic. It made sense given what he’d just been through of course.
“Have you finished taking your anger out on those disgusting creatures?”
The voice came from the corner. It belonged to the woman who had saved him.
Startled, the man turned towards the source of the voice, his breath still ragged from his ordeal. He’d forgotten about her presence in his emotional turmoil.
There, in the dim light of the forest clearing, stood the woman who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and curiosity.
His chest heaving with exertion, he struggles to find his voice, his mind still reeling from the intensity of what he’d just done.
"Yes," He manages to gasp out, his words barely more than a whisper. “I- I think so."
The woman stepped forward, her expression softening as she approached him with gentle reassurance. "You did well," She said, her voice a soothing melody in the darkness. "Those creatures will not harm you ever again,”
Her words were like a balm to his weary soul, offering solace in the aftermath of the chaos that had unfolded. And as he looked into her eyes, he felt a sense of gratitude wash over him, grateful for her unexpected presence in his darkest hour.
"Thank you," He murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity. “Thank you for saving me.” He swallows heavily, “I- I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been here." He admits
The woman smiled softly, a tender warmth emanating from her as she reached out to gently touch his arm, in a gesture of comfort. Her hand, adorned with intricate silver rings, similar to Regulus’ own fingers, offered reassurance and comfort, a silent promise of steadfast support. "We all need someone to watch over us from time to time, Regulus,” She says, her gaze warm and compassionate, her voice a soothing melody in the midst of the screeching going on inside of Regulus’ head. “You never have to be alone again,”
Bianca Dreswell's presence exuded a sense of calm and wisdom, her bushy blonde hair framing her face like a halo of golden light. Her eyes, a mesmerizing blend of white and purple. And Regulus was almost certain her eyes reflected her own magic in their depths.
Her stature, though short, seemed to tower with authority and grace, a testament to the strength and resilience that lay within her. There was an air of serenity about her, a quiet confidence born from years of experience and knowledge.
“And you’re saying this because you’re my….” He pauses forgetting the exact word and her lips twitch up in amusement.
Regulus's pause was met with a subtle amusement twinkling in Bianca's eyes, her lips quirking up in a knowing smile. “Your Oretta, Regulus. It means I’m your assigned mentor,” She affirms her voice carrying the weight of experience and authority.
With a graceful stride, Bianca approached him, her presence exuding an aura of calm assurance. As she drew near, she gently tapped the large wings that had pierced his back, the very wings that had been his unexpected salvation in the midst of drowning.
The pain had forced him awake and his apparent inheritance had instantly called his mentor to his side.
Despite their breathtaking appearance, Regulus's wings were not untouched by his recent ordeal. As they extended from his back, a closer look revealed that they were marred by patches of dried blood and raw, inflamed skin.
The scales, which would be resplendent in their iridescent hues once cleaned and oiled, now appeared matted and scratched, clinging together in clumps where blood had congealed. The edges of his wings were frayed and sore, evidence of the fierce struggle he had endured in the inferi lake.
With each movement, Regulus winced, the soreness and pain of his new wings, claws, fangs and even his ears, made him want to sleep off his exhaustion for a while.
Every beat sent a jolt of agony coursing through his body, but still, he stayed on his feet. Because he was a Slytherin and it was in his nature to gather as much information as possible regardless of the cost.
His mentor studied his battered wings with a keen eye, her expression thoughtful and empathetic, “Once we get to safer hold, I’ll be able to heal you to the best of my abilities,” She tells him, her golden-spun hair bouncing against her golden-skinned face.
“What did I inherit as?” Regulus swallows harshly and his mentor blinks slowly as if the concept of his confusion had befuddled even her.
It slowly dawned on her though, that her student was from earth, where their kind was scarce if not extinct.
"Regulus," Bianca began, her voice carrying a tone of both reverence and explanation, “You are what we call a Dragel.”