Heron

The next month and a half Orion enjoyed peace. No one was bothering him, and he could calmly spend his time in the library, reading in hopes of finding something that could help him decipher the symbols he had found in Callister’s book. So far, he had found nothing.

One Thursday morning at the end of October, when they had Charms, Professor Flitwick broke the news that he was finally going to teach the class how to make objects fly. Most of the students were thrilled as they had been waiting for this for a while, Orion, however, was unimpressed. He had been debating for a week whether he should seek help from either Flitwick or McGonagall to help with his self-assigned task, but thought that might not be the best idea, since they could get too curious.

“‘Now, don’t forget that nice wrist movement we’ve been practicing,” reminded the professor. “Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too – never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said ‘s’ instead of ‘f’ and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest.” he chuckled.

The class was then split into pairs and were given feathers to cast the spell upon. Orion was with Vincent Crabbe, one of the two henchmen for Malfoy. The other one, Gregory Goyle, was with the blonde boy himself.

“Wingaadium Leviosa” the chubby boy kept repeating, not realizing he was pronouncing the spell wrong, although even if he was, his wand movement was so poor that the only way he would make the feather in front of him rise was with the air current he was generating.

Caspian, Silas and Terry were making slow but steady progress, managing to lift the tip of theirs. Seamus Finnigan once again managed to set something on fire.

“You do it, then, if you’re so clever.” growled Ronald Weasley who looked incredibly annoyed that he was put together with Hermione Granger. She had just told him that he was also mispronouncing the charm.

“Wingardium Leviosa” she cast, and the feather started ascending slowly into the air, following the tip of her wand.

“Oh, well done! Everyone see here, Miss Granger’s done it!” exclaimed Professor Flitwick “Five points for Gryffindor.”

A faint proud smirk emerged on the face of the girl. Ron was not so happy, so he buried his face in his arms. By the end of the class, he was one of the few who hadn’t managed to properly cast it.

“The feather was easy, but making the apple rise was much harder. I guess for heavier objects you need better concentration.” Terry rubbed his chin.

“I wonder how heavy an object you can move?” Silas imitated the boy.

“I bet Dumbledore could lift the whole castle with ease.” Caspian said sarcastically.

“Even he’s not that powerful.” said Terry who didn’t catch the joke.

“—no wonder no one can stand her.” the red-haired boy could be overheard saying to Harry Potter.

At that moment the person who Orion thought he was talking about bumped shoulders with Ron. Tears were starting to form in Hermione’s eyes, and as she clutched the book in her hands she quickly hurried away from the group.

“I think she’s heard you.” said Harry in a slightly worried voice.

“So? She must’ve noticed she’s got no friends.”

Orion didn’t see what the issue with that could be, but then he recalled the first time he had spoken to her in the library. She obviously wanted to have someone to talk to.

For the rest of the day, Hermione didn’t show up for classes.

“Ah, it appears we've got an extra broom lying about. Now, where might Miss Granger be?” asked Madam Hooch once they reached the final class for the day.

“She’s not feeling well.” Parvati Patil told the teacher in slight privacy.

“I heard she’s locked herself crying in the girls’ toilets.” giggled Daphne Greengrass and the rest of the Slytherin students also found that amusing.

“No matter. Let’s continue with where we left off last week.” the professor continued.

At this point she was teaching the students how to make more complex turns and evasions, although she still kept them nice and close to the ground. Those who she deemed capable enough were allowed to go a bit higher in the last five minutes of class. Though she had given that commodity to Orion, the highest he ever got was just fifteen feet above the castle walls where he could see the whole Forbidden Forest. More and more he was enjoying watching the trees sway in a melancholy unison.

When he entered the Grand Hall for dinner at the end of the day, Orion was taken aback by the decorations of the large room. There were hundreds of pumpkins with faces carved into them floating about, some smaller ones even displayed on the tables. There were cobwebs scattered across the edges of the walls, but thankfully for a lot of students there were no spiders. Instead, a great number of bats were flying underneath the ceiling, some stuck to the walls to take a break. Orion had forgotten today was Halloween.

“Ah, man, they didn’t have to go this all out.” said Terry, slightly bent down with his head turned towards the ceiling, carefully watching the bats. “What if they come close?”

“Are you scared of bats?” Silas was putting a good scoop of spaghetti Bolognese into his plate. “They’re pretty harml-”.

With a loud bang Professor Quirrell came rushing into the Hall. Everyone was startled and sudden silence filled the room, though quickly broken by the man with the turban.

“TROLL! THERE’S A TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS....thought you ought to know.” he then dropped with a faint.

Terry looked at Caspian and Silas and the three of them, much like the rest of the students, began shouting in panic. People were standing up left and right, the bats were frantically flying across the room, what with their sense of hearing being so brutally assaulted. They only managed to provoke even louder shrieks as they touched the heads of some students. Orion remained seated, looking around at the pandemonium.

“SILENCE!” ordered Dumbledore with such a loud voice that he seemed like a different man. The next words came out with incredible gentleness, however, and everyone was reminded that he was still the same friendly elderly wizard “Prefects, lead your houses back to the dormitories quickly but cautiously. Teachers will follow me to the dungeons.”

Orion noticed that Snape gave Dumbledore a glance and quickly left the room before the rest of the faculty.

“Troll in the dungeons. Isn’t Slytherin’s dormi-” he began to think, but then an idea appeared in his head. During his grandfather’s first year at the school, he fought off many trolls who were under control of the goblin upriser Ranrok. This couldn’t be his doing, surely; Atticus had defeated him back then. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check, so while Dorian and Penelope were leading the Ravenclaws to their tower, Orion turned at the appropriate corner and went for the dungeons. On his way there, he heard large stomps coming from the direction of the toilets. It seemed the troll had gotten out, so he quickly ran up to it.

Hermione was wiping away what should have been the last of her tears and just as she was about to open the door of her stall, she heard a familiar voice speak in an unfamiliar tone.

“I guess it was wishful thinking. Ah, well. Bombarda Maxima...Centuria.”

The volume of the sound that followed was immense. It was as though a hundred lightning bolts struck just ten feet away. Hermione felt the room, no, the castle, shake from the loud roar, her heartbeat changing rhythm. As she lifted her hands off her ears, everything had gone quiet; she feared she had just gone deaf. She slowly opened the door, its creaks comforting, (her ears were still functioning) and peeked behind it. She saw two large legs, torn just above the heels. The walls were covered in blood and so was the boy who was putting his wand away. Orion’s hair had gone down, his bangs almost fully covering his eyes. Hermione noticed there was a faint glimmer in them that was just dying out now. As she was staring, the eyes turned towards her.

“Are you al-”

Before he could finish checking up on her, two more boys who wore Gryffindor robes came rushing through the door.

“Are you alright, Hermione?” asked Harry worriedly.

“What was that loud bang?!” asked Ron, looking at the blood and two feet.

Orion was stunned. As Harry passed through the door frame, he brushed his shoulder with his. A jolt, stronger than the one he felt in the library more than a month ago rushed through his blood. Orion felt ancient magic on the boy.

Three more figures appeared in the door. Two of them, Professor McGonagall and Professor Quirrell had their hands covering their mouths. Professor Snape also wore a shocked look, but he was more subtle. Orion noticed that Snape had a tear in his pants and there were signs of blood.

“Wh-what happened?” asked McGonagall with a shaky voice. Orion was still covered in blood and the troll was obviously devastated by a powerful spell.

“I went looking for the troll because I – I thought I could deal with it on my own-” began Hermione, but she wasn’t particularly good at lying.

“I used a spell I read in a book, Professor.” Orion’s calmness did not help instill the same feeling in the professors.

They were all still baffled by the amount of blood and before they could say anything else, Orion calmly went past them and went for his common room.

“Out.” Snape barked at the three Gryffindors once he had regained himself.

“What happened?” asked Harry and Ron on their way back. “And more importantly, are you alright?”

“I’m not sure....for both.” the girl said. “Why did you come there anyway?”

“What are friends for, if not to try to help one another.” smiled Harry.

--------------------

Fridays were the days that Orion had the most free time to study, since classes ended early in the afternoon. Once again, he had buried himself in a pile of books, flipping through pages, writing down anything that might seem useful.

“Um...I know you said not to speak to you-”

Without changing position, Orion glanced up. Hermione Granger had an awkward smile on her face and was scanning through the books he had placed on the table.

“I just wanted to thank you for yesterday.” she fired out quickly.

“Sure.” Orion shook his head and returned to reading Symbols of the Ages: Tales Written in Signs.

The girl remained standing. Her curiosity was already piqued. Although not aloud, her lips were reading every title. Orion finally looked up with his whole head and cleared his throat. Hermione seemed to be in deep thought and didn’t flinch.

“This symbol,” she placed her finger on one of the drawings, “I’ve seen it before.”

“Where?” Orion asked more intensely than he wanted.

“In a painting near the fourth floor of the Grand Staircase.” Hermione answered, not realizing how important this was for the boy.

“Thanks.” he quickly stood up and started packing his belongings.

“Where are you going?” the girl asked confused.

“Where you just told me.” he hurried out of the library.

“Don’t run in the corridors, Mr. Hawthorne, Miss Granger.” called Professor McGonagall to which Orion turned around to see that he was being followed.

Only once he got to the Grand Staircase did he stop.

“Why-why are you in such a hurry?” Hermione barely said through the many pants. “All those books, they were all about ancient symbols.” she took a deep breath in, “Are you studying ancient magic?”

“Which way?” Orion tried to dodge the question.

“There.” she pointed to one of the walls.

The staircase they were on finally turned to and led them to the desired platform. From there Orion quickly started closely inspecting one of the paintings. It was the interior of a house. Unlike the other paintings that could be found around the castle, this one didn’t have a live figure in it. On one of the walls there was a framed piece of paper with the symbol that Orion had copied down surrounded by other similar ones.

“Excuse me, where is this place?” he turned to a nearby portrait of a man who was smoking a pipe.

He looked to his right, as though he could see past the frames “Why I do believe that is the Aurendale manor in the forest. The Forbidden Forest, I should say, that’s what you call it. Wonderful people the Aurendales, shame they left.” he took another puff, “Ever since they did, that painting has grown quite dull, I dare say. Miss Silvershade from the Astronomy Tower comes every now and then to light the candles, but it’s not the same. Who are you, by the way?”

“Hawthorne.” the boy answered and to his surprise the man’s eyes grew large.

“Stay right where you are, don’t move I tell you.” he stood up from his rocking chair and walked to the edge of the frame and then vanished.

“So?” Hermione broke the silence, “Will you answer me?”

“I am.” he answered.

“Really? What specifically are you researching? I've always been intrigued by ancient magical practic-”

“Some runes I found that seemed interesting.” Orion lied.

Before the girl could say anything, the man in the picture returned, accompanied by an elderly wizard who had a funny beard and mustache.

“Seems to be him, spitting image and all. But I heard their sort usually popped in around their fifth year.” the bearded man said in a rather rude tone.

“That’s Phineas Nigellus Black. He was a headmaster in the past.” Hermione whispered with slight excitement and certain pride that she knew who the man was.

“Your grandfat-... er, great-something-or-other, Atticus, left me with a message to deliver. I reckon... would you mind giving us a bit of privacy?” he turned ever so rudely to the girl.

The two portraits and Orion looked at Hermione. She looked at the two men then stopped at Orion who had a cold look in his eyes. Despite her incredible curiosity, she walked down the stairs which then left the platform.

“Well, Atticus blabbered about the chance his kind might swing back one day. Never figured it'd be his own blood, let alone a fresh-faced first-year. Anyhow, three trials await, but you're a mite too young for the rest. So, I'll bid adieu.” and he left before Orion could ask anything else.

The man with the pipe looked in the direction Phineas Black had gone and after making sure he was no longer there whispered “I’m not meant to tell you this,” he took a couple more glances around, “that there is the location of the first trial. Phineas is not stup-, well, he certainly didn’t lie about you being too young. I reckon in two years, you might be ready, but for now it’s too soon.” he placed his pipe back into his mouth. “Off you go now.”

Orion returned to the library, but only once he had memorized the other symbols that surrounded the one he knew. He slumped back into the chair he was in before he had been disturbed. While many thoughts raced through his mind, he snapped out of it and wrote down the symbols he made sure to remember. Three of them vaguely resembled some he had passed through while turning some of the books’ pages. He buried his hand in his hair and started opening and closing some of them. As he was, Hermione once again approached him.

“What did he tell you?” she asked, taking a seat next to him.

“Listen, not now. Okay?” Orion was not taking his eyes off the pages that were quickly flying in front of him.

“That looks like Azarius’s cl-”

“Azarius’s cluster is formed through the Transfiguration alphabet, this clearly isn’t. Could you leave, I need some peace and quiet?” he said opening up a different book.

“Do you need hel-?” the girl started.

“No.” he quickly interrupted to which she got annoyed.

“If it wasn’t for me, you'd still be clueless about that symbol lurking in the painting.” she stood up with her arms crossed.

“...thanks.” Orion said reluctantly, “But I can do this on my own.”

“Hmph.” she turned away.

Although he declined any assistance, the furthest he got through the weekend was figuring out a single pair of symbols that he was almost certain translated into ‘decay’.

-------------

The following Monday, after the last class before lunch – Transfiguration, Hermione stayed a moment longer after their professor had dismissed them.

“Professor, pardon me, but I was hoping you might assist me?” she sheepishly asked.

“Of course, my dear.” McGonagall was always happy to help with whatever her house’s brightest first-year had issues with.

“I was wondering if you knew of anyone named Atticus. It's possible they had acquaintance with a former headmaster, Mr. Phineas Black.”

“I'm afraid Professor Black passed away a decade before my time. You might find the answers you seek from Professor Dumbledore; he was a student under his tutelage. Alternatively, seek counsel from the man himself. A portrait of Professor Black graces the headmaster's chambers.” she said with a strong sarcastic note on the word “graces”.

“Thank you, professor.” Hermione bowed slightly and quickly went out of the room.

She was most certainly not going to go and talk to the portrait of the man who made it clear he didn’t want her to hear what he had to say. Other portraits, however, might not be a bad idea, she thought, and she knew just the one.

“Hmmmm-hmmmmm.” the portrait guarding the entrance to the Gryffindor common room was looking at a mirror.

“Excuse me.” said Hermione looking around. There were several students nearby, but they didn’t seem to be interested in her business. Neither was the Fat Lady portrait.

“Hmmmm.” she kept humming, adjusting her hair. “Password?” she asked after noticing a student was standing in front of her.

“No. I actually want to ask you something?” Hermione continued glancing around.

“Hoh? What?” the portrait was also not looking at the person she was talking to.

“Do you happen to know anyone named Atticus?” Hermione finally looked at the Fat Lady.

The Lady stopped looking at the mirror as well. She was now looking up and to her right, as though she was trying to remember something. “Atticus? Atticus....hmmmm. Oh! Yes, Atticus Hawthorne! My, I haven’t heard that name in a century. Haha. Quite the talk of the school that boy was, transferred in his fifth year. I remember Professor Weasley and her nephew Garreth used to never stop talking about him. Oh, and that fight at the end of the year. And speaking of Garreth – he always used to be such a troublemaker, Professor Sharp always gave him detentions. Ah, Professor Sharp...Atticus turned just like him – he became an auror. Ah, Professor Sharp...” she repeated, her mind seemed to flutter somewhere else, as she twirled her hair around a finger.

This was great news for Hermione, she had now learned that Atticus was also a Hawthorne; that he took part in a battle at Hogwarts a century ago which she had read about in Hogwarts: A History; and that he became an auror. He also had connections to the Weasley family, so maybe Ron, who she had now become a little friendlier with since the troll incident a few days ago, could tell her something. For now, she decided to investigate the other clues first.

----------------

That night Orion decided to visit the dark forest, he had been going at those symbols for nearly two months and could not wait any longer. Once everyone had fallen asleep, he snuck out of the common room. Prefects and some teachers were still roaming the halls, making sure no students were out of bed late at night, but with a few uses of the Disillusionment Charm, Orion managed to get past all of them. As he approached the forest, he noticed that the window of the hut in which the gamekeeper Hagrid lived was still lit.

“Come on, Fang, up ya get! Dumbledore needs that mess in the forest sorted out.” he heard the man say.

He looked at the forest. Nothing could be seen past the first tree; it was as though there was an abyss in front of him.

“Vers Lieu” cast the boy and from the tip of his wand emerged a firefly that went straight into the darkness ahead. “Lumos.” he cast another spell and the tip of his wand started glowing as though it was a flashlight; and he followed the conjuration.

The deeper he went, the denser the air around him became; the louder the whispers. Every step was heavy, the ground – soft, he was struggling to move, as though he was walking through quicksand; as though the grip of the soil was trying to pull him to the other side. The trees around him were crackling, the dim light from Orion’s wand barely illuminating them; their large looming branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. The leaves were rustling, murmuring; everything had its eyes on the intruder. The vines were slithering, coiling around the thick trunks; every few meters the boy would step on one and it would try to wrap around his leg. Despite all the eerie noises, the one that bothered Orion the most was a hiss he could hear in the distance, incredibly similar to the one that preceded Quirrell’s intrusion of the Undercroft.

It took more than an hour for the firefly to finally stop. The Aurendale manor was standing menacingly, entwined in ivy and despite its obvious age, it was otherwise pristine – the windows were still intact, the door was neatly closed, the grass around it was slightly shorter than the rest of the forest. It was not a large building by any means; sixty feet in length, almost thirty feet tall, with its base made of heavy stone.

Orion looked at it cautiously. It seemed too well-kept to have been abandoned. As he approached the door, the firefly that had guided him there passed through it. He gave the door a nudge and to his surprise the door slowly opened without a single creak. There were no webs on any of the corners of the many rooms. The carpets were tidy, the shelves were dusted, the curtains were neatly secured at both sides of the windows.

A sudden screech coming from the second floor made Orion flinch. As he went up the stairs, his wand pointing forward, ready to cast a spell at any moment, another screech came out. It came from a room on his right. He slowly peeked behind the door, the source of the noise revealing itself. It was a phoenix. It was sitting in the same room that was depicted in the painting at Hogwarts. The fiery-orange bird turned towards the boy and tilted its head. He, however, was now fully immersed in looking at the framed piece of paper with the symbols on it. There was a roll of parchment on the table below the frame, glowing in white. It had four combinations of symbols that Orion had found in Callister’s book, one of which, to his delight, read “Decay spell”. He looked back up at the framed piece of paper, it was also glowing.

He reached out to touch it and as his hand was about to make contact with the glass, he felt his body being enveloped by something, the feeling similar to being submerged in water.

As he opened his eyes, there was pure darkness around him, making him question whether he had actually opened them. “Lumos.” he cast again and the place where he was slightly began to reveal itself. The room he had transferred to was low, the ceiling was made of marble and the floor beneath his feet looked to be made from glass. It was even darker than in the Forbidden Forest. “Lumos Maxima.”. To his surprise even this powerful of a glow didn’t manage to light up the whole room. There were at least ten pillars in front of him. This was just like the description of the place Orion’s grandfather had been transported to when he opened vault twelve in Gringotts. “Revelio.” he cast, hoping that clues would appear like they had for Atticus, but nothing happened. “Revelio.” he tried again after walking for a minute. The room remained unchanged, there were no walls and no matter how long he continued to go in one direction, only more and more pillars emerged.

--------------

“Quiet down, quiet down, I’m sure you want to practice it more, but we have more spells to learn.” began the professor atop his pile of books. “Ah! And where might Mr. Hawthorne be?” he turned to the class.

“Did you hear him today?” Caspian asked Terry in a whisper.

“I don’t hear him every time he wakes up!.... but no, I didn’t hear him.” said Terry.

“You think he’s skipping class?” Silas, who was sitting behind them, leaned forward.

“...I don’t know.” said Caspian.

“Well, no matter. Let us continue.” Flitwick continued with his lesson.

Orion didn’t show up for a single class before lunch.

“Cas, where are you going?” Silas asked Caspian after Defense Against the Dark Arts. “Are you not going to eat lunch?”

“I want to see whether Orion’s in the library. You go without me.”

Terry and Silas looked at each other and after both shrugging followed Caspian.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Pince, have you seen Orion today?” Caspian asked once they got to the library.

“Well, as much as he loves reading books, he hasn’t skipped class to come here so far. Though, I must say I am surprised he still hasn’t come,” the librarian said, glancing around, “he’s been awfully busy these last couple of weeks. Always buried in a pile of books.”

“Do you think we should tell Flitwick he is missing?” Terry was incredibly nervous.

“Maybe...maybe we should wait till the night, he might show up for bed.” answered Caspian but even he felt he wasn’t nearly confident enough.

------

Orion did not turn up for the afternoon classes either nor for dinner. In fact, he was still stuck in the same room.

“Re-revelio.” this was almost the nine hundredth time he had cast the spell. He hadn’t slept in more than a day and was beginning to think he might not make it out. He sat near a pillar and started rubbing his eyes. Surely, he wasn’t trapped here, he just had to find that flame-shaped statue his grandfather had found when he was here. But not even his own spell “Vers Lieu” could guide him there and he had created that spell to be able to lead the caster to any place they had in mind. He let out a sigh and looked up to the ceiling. The smooth marble reflected the desperation that was beginning to set in him. He shot a spell at it out of frustration and after the small amount of smoke disappeared, the ceiling was no longer mirroring him. Instead, the image of himself was smiling and pointing to the left.

“Prote-AGHHHHH” he tried to defend himself but before he could say the whole incantation out loud, the sword had already cut the entire dorsal* side of his left hand. A suit of armor made out of stone, with a medieval design was carrying the large blade. But the armor was of no interest to Orion right now. He could see the bones and muscles of his wand hand. Although he had experienced pain many times before, it had never been such a severe flesh wound.

“Bombarda.” he barely cast through gritted teeth and the suit of armor crumbled to the ground. “Phah!” he exhaled dropping to his knees, intensely gripping his left wrist to endure the pain. To Orion’s horror, the pile of rock that was laying on the ground began to move, reforming once again into the same knight. With a bright blue light going through the body, it began to move again. Though Orion was slightly dazed he recognized a pattern emerge in the middle of the torso. It was the same combination of symbols that meant ‘decay’. “Decay, decay, decay” he kept repeating in his head. He was almost sure he knew what this meant, he had to use a spell that decays, but the closest he knew was “Deletrius.” which was a spell that disintegrated objects. “Protego.” this time he managed to cast quickly enough, but the swing was stronger than the bubble that emerged around him, so it managed to break through, giving him a cut on his cheek. “Pourriture, interitus...” different possible incantations were rushing through his head. This wouldn’t be the first time he created a spell, but creating one of such nature was dangerous. In Atticus’s books, he described ancient magic as a form of incantationless art, every action born from intention and imagination. This being a challenge designed only for those who could wield it, probably meant he had to succeed in casting his first such spell. He pointed his wand towards the knight; in his mind the suit of armor slowly turning to dust, blown away by the lightest gust. But the knight only swung its sword again.

“Prote-protego.” he had to take a breath, his hand was becoming more and more of a burden. “Interitus.” he tried and his wand shot a purple bolt that hit the suit’s left pauldron. “Pourriture.” he tried in French which was his preferred language to create spells in. This time a much deeper purple emerged, striking in the same place. The knight crumbled to dust just like in Orion’s imagination. A faint white light emerged from the pile and started moving towards a certain direction. Gripping his wrist again and barely managing to walk in a straight line, the boy followed the flicker. In only a minute it took him to the statue he had been searching for hours.

“Revelio.” he barely let out, he had lost a serious amount of blood, but was confident he would make it to the castle. A pool of dark liquid revealed itself in front of the statue and just as he stepped in it, feeling the same embrace he had before he got transported here, Orion heard a blade being dragged on the floor, then swung high into the air and then he felt....warmth, he felt his heart. He was in the middle of the forest, under a broken arch, no longer in the Aurendale manor; his knees were bent and he was looking towards the ground, his thighs inches away from his chest. He no longer felt pain in his hand..., but the piece of flesh was still missing. He slowly turned his eyes towards his torso. Right beneath his ribs, on the left side of his body was a deep cut. Blood welled up, a crimson torrent that spilled forth from a laceration, painting the ground in a dark, ominous pool. The warmth he’d felt mere seconds ago was slowly being replaced by a hollow cold. Orion felt his lifeforce leaving him with each drop that emerged from the wound. If he didn’t act quick, he was going to die. But so far from the castle, with no healing potions, and no way to prepare for a proper procedure, nothing was coming to mind. His mind was racing, trying to find something in the many pages of the thousands books he had in it that could help. No spells.

“Sanguis Stasis.” he barely managed to say with what felt like his last breath. Stopping the blood from spilling was the only thing he could do for now, but even once he did, the sheer amount already on the ground in front of him was making his head light. His vision was getting blurry, his surroundings were melting together.

“Gri-grimbly.” he heard himself utter before falling to the ground. Somewhere close to him leaves rustled. “Hel’ me.” was the last thing Orion said before passing out.