Black Rose [Regulus Black]

"Regulus?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm kinda fucking scared."

"That sums it up pretty well," he replied, his voice hoarse from disuse. He grasped Alessandra's hand and squeezed, willing himself to have a little bit of courage for once in life. His stomach lurched along with the boat, which was moving across the choppy seas. The wind was howling around them, cold and unforgiving, feeling like tiny ice shards against his face. There was a concerning amount of creaking, as though the boat was barely held together by magic. Yet, the possibility of the boat capsizing and making them just another wreck in the middle of the ocean wasn't terrifying, because the scariest part hadn't even begun yet. No, it wasn't just breaking into a high-security prison. It was breaking into the high-security prison, the one nightmares were made of.

What had his life come to? He, who could barely create a Patronus, was currently sailing to the most terrifying prison of all time instead of Apparating directly in, to see a criminal who was probably insane at this point. Not to mention, he technically belonged there, thanks to the tattoo on his forearm.

Was it too late to turn back and run away? Somehow, the cold in Antarctica was more reassuring than the chills here.

"You're contemplating running away, aren't you?" Alessandra asked knowingly, the ponytail she'd made doing nothing to stop her blonde hair from flying about in her face. Her eyes were watering, and he wasn't sure if it was because she was crying or because of the wind.

Honestly, he wasn't sure about the cause for his own tears either. "Perhaps. You're judging me right now, aren't you?"

"No. I'm too busy concentrating on how uncomfortable my feet feel."

"Imagine how I feel in this cramped bloody boat," he grumbled. "Why Dumbledore stuck us with this nonsense, I will never know."

"Out of spite?"

"Wouldn't put it past the old bat."

She laughed. "You truly hate him, don't you?"

"With the passion of a thousand suns."

"If only you could bring those thousand suns right about now to warm us up."

"I can do other things to warm us up."

"Jesus." She paused, considering it. "No, there isn't enough space on the boat."

They both sighed, and silence ensued.

"Should we drink the juicy- whatever the fuck it is?" Alessandra asked, rubbing her hands. She wanted a drink right about now, maybe it would help her feel less cold.

"Polyjuice, and not yet."

"But we might get caught."

"Yeah, but we don't have much and it lasts only for an hour."

"Isn't an hour enough?"

"You never know what may happen. It's better to put it off until the last moment."

"You're the first one who's ever said that to me," she mumbled.

Ten minutes later, Regulus was eying the two vials warily while Alessandra rubbed her hands in glee. "So we each take a sip, and then pocket the vial. Now, I would recommend closing your nose and taking a small sip- oh."

Alessandra took a huge of gulp of it, and choked.

"That tastes like feet," she coughed and gagged. "Ew, oh my God, that is awful." She was writhing now, clutching her head and wincing. It felt like her skull was trying to burst out of her scalp and her bones were suddenly too big for her skin.

"Never again," she croaked, her voice deeper now. "Wait- holy shit!"

She reached up to pat her hair, which was now mostly gone. She lifted her arms up to see clearer, and they were thicker and musclier, with dark hair sprinkled on them. Her feet were uncomfortably large for her shoes now and she tapped her finger against them twice, willing them to grow a little larger.

Regulus looked too green to laugh.

"Drink up, come on. You didn't even tell me it tasted like rat piss!"

"That would have dissuaded you from drinking it. You would keep stalling to-"

"Just like you're doing right now?"

"Maybe."

"Drink it."

"We're not really there yet."

"Drink. It."

"Maybe I should just go as myself. Because if they see a member of the Sacred-"

"Regulus," she hissed, enjoying the new deepness of her voice. "Drink!"

He took a small sip, screwing up his eyes in pain. She watched in awe as more dark hair sprouted from his scalp, his body growing several sizes smaller. The transformation after drinking Polyjuice was worse than the books had described it to be. They didn't say that your skull would burn and ache, or that you could hear your joints squeaking as your bones shortened, the flesh stretching out to fit the newly-formed structure.

How was his hair always good?

"Wow," she exhaled. "You're tiny!"

"Don't rejoice so enthusiastically, this could be the last face you ever saw before dying," he warned dryly.

She opened her mouth, probably to make a snarky comment, but the boat then hit a particularly choppy wave, nearly sending them tumbling off the edge into the cold, murky waters and casting a metaphorical shadow over them.

"I just wanted you to know..."

"Oh, please don't," she groaned. "Spare your romantic confessions for later, I'm far too seasick for it."

"There may not be a later."

"That's a rather pessimistic take on it."

"I'm being a realist. There are several things that could kill us because of this. If we miraculously manage to even reach Azkaban, the Dementors may suck our soul or the few poor guards there may kill us because we may appear to be a threat or one of the more unhinged prisoners could get their hands on our throat and squeeze a little too hard-"

"Oh god."

"And if we make it out, the likelihood of our boat being hit by lightning or being overturned due to the wind or us being lost at sea-"

"Oh god."

"And if we make it past that, the Death Eaters may chase-"

"Ohmygodstoptalking!"

A long breath whooshed out of him and he settled his hands in his lap, turning them over to admire the nail polish (black, green and silver - what wasn't there to like?). "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "It's just, being out here makes me think of the worst possibilities."

"It's understandable, we're on a suicide mission."

"Honestly?" Regulus said softly, and she suddenly noticed how pale he was and how his hands were shaking a little. "This is the scariest part for me."

Alessandra stayed quiet for a while, not knowing whether to probe him or leave him be. She knew what the problem was - she was there for the aftermath. She had heard him talk about it, had seen his state right after he had emerged from that cave, and had even witnessed flashes of the memories when trying to practice Legilimency.

And she felt awful because she did not know what to do. She knew he had to open up about it eventually because it was too much to handle, but she also did not want to force him out of his shell. She was wracked with guilt because she knew it was inevitable, yet she was running away from it like a coward.

She just slipped her hand into his, trying to think of something to say. She was about to question why the water was so purple, and was going to follow up with - "Maybe it's because the blue of the water combined with the red of the blood of others who had died here".

She then realised it was in poor taste considering the circumstances. At least she had not said it aloud. God, she was an idiot.

"How does one get rid of a bad itch?" she asked.

"What?" he snapped out of his reverie, turning away from the murky purple of the ocean, which looked disturbingly like raw meat. Stank like it too.

"Using quit-itch."

"That was awful."

"Alright, I have better. Why doesn't Lily plant daisies?"

"But she does, I saw them-"

"Because she's a lily potter!"

He stared at her for ten long seconds and she wondered if it was so bad he was contemplating pushing her off the boat. "I did not think it could get worse."

"You try then," she crossed her arms expectantly.

"Okay, so-"

"And it better not be a Sirius joke."

"Fine," he sighed, rubbing his now-freckled nose. "Who has a confused door?"

"Who?"

"Bumbledoor." 

"The fact that you found that funny enough is funny."

"Jokes are supposed to be funny."

"Oh, that's why I find you funny!"

He rolled his eyes at her, and then straightened up. "I have another one. Who is bad at driving a bus?"

"Who?"

"Albus Dumbledore."

"Huh?"

"Bus, dumb," he shrugged.

She sniggered, "I feel compelled to say that was awful because you called my joke awful, but also feel proud because of the Muggle reference."

He looked pleased with himself at that. "I'll take it. Another one. Who is a hardass?"

"I- what?" she sputtered.

"Al bum Dumbledore."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Al dente, al bum."

"That was- what-?" she burst into laughter, desperately trying not to tip the boat over. "I sense an underlying theme here."

"Well, forgive me for not having the highest opinion of the man after he shipped us off to imminent death while sitting in his giant, bloody castle."

"But on the bright side, it would be a great experience. A heroic one. It could revolutionize our lives, open our eyes, we could come out as completely different people-"

"We will," his mouth was set in a grim line. "Even if we don't get our souls snatched, Azkaban is said to irrevocably change people."

"It does not necessarily have to be a bad change..."

"Alright, do tell, what kinds of wonderful, revolutionary, positive changes you think will happen to us in one of the most dangerous places in the world?"

"To be fair, danger is subjective. For example, I used to find snakes dangerous, but now I can just talk to them, so. Also, you never know. You could have a heart-to-heart with a stranger, discover a new meaning to life. Just imagine the survival tips people staying there must have acquired, we have so much to learn from them!"

"If you were anyone else, I would have shoved you off this boat."

"How romantic," she sniffled. "When will we reach anyways?"

"Dumbledore said that the boat would reach in exactly 48 minutes. So," he checked his watch, which was in the bag of clothes. "In a minute or so. We just don't see it yet because of the protective charms."

"But what if the water's direction is set in such a way that it slows the speed down or there's air resistance or- I don't know, I want to get off this boat. My foot's falling asleep."

"Let's go over the plan once. You introduce yourself as Pablo Jones, and I am Mia Jones. We are posing as Ministry officials here to conduct a welfare check-up on a prisoner - see if they're alive and present. We have to answer a bunch of security questions, and then our supervisor, Moody, will be contacted and he will approve this visit. A Patronus will be cast by someone else throughout, but we should be able to, just in case. We should keep eating the purple chocolate periodically, and then within 55 minutes, take another bite of the blue chocolate that is laced with Polyjuice. And then?"

"Morfin is in Cell 42, known as Prisoner 093. We interrogate him. On our way out, we Confund the security guard into believing that we were visiting a different prisoner - Prisoner 088. Prisoner 088 has short-term memory, so they aren't bound to remember anyways. And then we escape through the boat, and Apparate out in the middle of the ocean along with our belongings. Burn the clothes we're wearing now. Report to Dumbledore tomorrow."

"Yes," he exhaled heavily.

She couldn't even bring herself to tell him it would all be fine, because she wasn't remotely close to believing it herself. "Let's just get this over with. The longer we delay it, the more tense it becomes."

He nodded, although his skin had turned a pale shade of green.

The moments as they neared closer to their destination were the worst. The air was thick and foggy and they couldn't see around them, until it wasn't, and ruins loomed over them.

That was a high security prison. It looked like ruins.

The prison holding some of the deadliest menaces of the world was in ruins. How reassuring.

"That's it?" she squeaked.

"Yep." He was breathing quickly now, chest rising and falling rapidly, and she squeezed his hand, because that was the best she could muster. She just felt so overwhelmed with everything. "Shall we?"

She didn't want to.

They shakily got off the boat, and the moment Alessandra stumbled on to land, Regulus grabbing her shoulder to support her, the boat disintegrated.

Regulus had turned fully green now.

"Lovely," she whispered. "Just lovely. How are we going back?"

"Apparition?" his teeth chattered.

Alessandra didn't say out loud that with the state he was in, they had a greater chance of survival if she apparated them out.

"We'll cross that hurdle if- when the time for it comes," she croaked. The sight of the murky waters was making her feel a bit nauseous too now, and she wondered how many others had drowned in it before them.

"Right," he said slowly, as though his brain was just warming up. Not that she didn't mind, because at least one of them needed to have a functioning brain to get through this. "Right. Shall we?"

"Don't make this sound like a picnic date," she tilted her head to the sky, the thick grey clouds doing nothing to calm her down. "I want my old face back. And yours."

"Same. But we should hurry before the potion wears off. Remember, look formal."

They made their way through a hidden path that looked like it was made of wood and cobwebs and would crumble to dust under their feet any moment. Slowly, slowly, their altitude rose and they neared the ruins, which were starting to grow clearer and clearer despite the fog growing thicker and thicker, until they were finally there.

There was a desk - a simple steel desk with a man sitting there, neutral expression on his face. He looked like a cashier at a fast food joint, not the man sitting at the entrance of the deadliest place in the world. He looked so unfazed too - didn't Regulus say that being in the presence of Dementors made you feel worse than death?

"Names," he grunted, picking up a quill that had a cobweb lining it.

It looked like a Halloween set up. Sometimes, she wondered if what had become of her life was just an elaborate Halloween prank.

"I'm Mia Jones, and this is Pablo Jones," Regulus stepped up, not a trace of fear in his voice, and she felt momentary jealousy at the way his voice had become firm and authoratative, not a trace of fear visible as though it had all evaporated away in a blink. "We've come to get Prisoner 093."

"Purpose?"

"Interrogation."

"Welfare check-up," she blurted out at the same time as he said, "Interrogation." She cursed herself almost instantly, telling herself to do most of the talking.

The man - she was going to call him Bear, because he looked like a particularly angry bear. "So which is it?"

"It is termed a welfare check-up but is more of an interrogation due to the unstable state of the prisoner," Regulus, no, Mia, said calmly.

Bear did not look least in the bit suspicious, which made her suspicious. If two people who seemed even remotely suspicious were at the gates of a prison that housed the most deadly creates in the world, shouldn't there be more concern?

Wizards were so weird. No wonder they had an entire war going on. Was this how Voldemort rose to power? Everybody just chose to ignore the glaring red flags?

"Supervisor?" Bear gestured at her (him? She didn't know).

"Alastor Moody."

Bear didn't acknowledge her, just got up and walked away, exposing the steel door behind the desk that didn't even have a fucking padlock. They could just walk through now, just like that.

What?

She made eye contact with Regulus, who didn't seem as concerned about the fact that the guard- hadn't she said this enough?

A few moments later, Bear came back, stretching, and beckoned them forward, handing them each an amulet.

"It's a Patronus amulet. It'll disintegrate within an hour, so make sure to leave through the back gate before then."

They hurriedly put on the amulets and silvery shapeless mist sprung out, but she was too frantic to even pay attention because where were the security questions? She was now panicking a little, because there was no way they just let somebody in. Wasn't there more protocol?

The steel door slid open and her mouth dried.

So that's why Bear doesn't give a flying fuck.

The descriptions given by Moody and Regulus and even the books didn't do justice to the horror the Dementors were. She felt them before she even saw them, her heart coated in dread and arms suddenly moist with sweat.

Hooded figures, physically and metaphorically as cold as ice. Two forces seemed to inhibit her: this tug towards them and the urge to run far away. They approached, moldy fingers inching out of tattered dark robes, but thankfully, the mist swirled forward towards them, holding them back.

"Have fun," Bear leered as the steel door clicked shut behind them.

Yeah, there was no way she could produce a Patronus, and judging by Reg's face, there was no way he was either. Thank God for the amulets.

"Let's get going, the potion is gonna wear off soon," Regulus whispered, his voice now so faint she could barely hear it.

She couldn't bring herself to move. This cold desperation had taken over her, rooting her to the spot, and she didn't think she could ever be happy again. She felt like curling up right there and letting the Dementors take her away.

"Alessandra," he whispered.

She swallowed and moved forward, the mist surrounding them and keeping the Dementors at bay.

40... 41... 42.

Morfin Gaunt was exactly what she expected him to be, but she still felt a rush of disappointment. This was what she was related to? This shivering bundle of rags that looked like he was barely clinging to life, his tongue lolling and crossed-eyes a thousand miles away. The few teeth he had left had yellowed, his hair mostly gone in patches.

Time had not been kind to Morfin Gaunt.

"Mr. Gaunt," Regulus knelt, and Alessandra could faintly hear the sound of his teeth chattering.

No response.

"Mr. Gaunt," it was her turn to whisper now, snapping her fingers in front of his face. "Um... great-uncle?"

He snapped back to the present at that, his baleful eyes as focused as they could be. His mouth seemed to be working to form words, but nothing was coming out.

"We're here to talk about the Gaunt ring," Regulus whispered, his eyes darting around as he said the words.

At that, something seemed to click into place within Morfin, who leaned forward, his eyes alight with a different kind of madness now. "What?"

Alessandra and Regulus made eye contact, a tad bit surprised that they'd even got him to say a word. Honestly? They hadn't thought they'd make it this far.

"We are Ministry officials, from the Department of... Purity Control." God, she hoped that sounded fine. Regulus said that if they mentioned that they were trying to maintain the sanctity of magic and purebloods, he'd be on board almost instantly.

Regulus nodded, his eyes a little brighter now. "In an effort to preserve the sacred families, we've been checking up on their heirlooms. To our knowledge, your family has the Gaunt ring. Do you happen to have it on you?"

"That wretch," he said simply. "That filthy half-blood offspring of Merope has it."

"Tom Riddle," Regulus whispered cautiously.

Morfin suddenly lurched forward to grasp the bars, startling them and prompting them to take a step back. "Do not speak his name," he snarled. "Tainted our blood, his very existence did. Why we didn't blast him and his miserable parents to smithereens when we had the chance, I'll never know."

Alessandra realized it was probably not the best idea to mention how they were related then.

"We would like to exact revenge," Regulus said calmly, although his hands held the faintest sign of a tremor. She reached into the bag for a piece of the purple chocolate, snapping it and handing it to him. Morfin followed the movement, a hunger in his eyes that made her feel sorry for him, so she snapped off another piece and uncertainly threw it to the ground in front of him, not wanting to risk making contact with him.

Her pity was only worsened by the way he eagerly picked the chocolate off the filthy ground and devoured it like it was his last meal on Earth.

"Revenge," Morfin whispered after scarfing down the chocolate. "I like that."

"Yes," Alessandra said encouragingly. "For that, we need the ring."

"He has it."

"We know," a bit of frustration came through in her words at that. "Do you have a clue where he could be?"

"That scum probably took over our house, to bathe himself in riches and pretend he was actually worthy." Morfin's hand twitched and he rolled his head, mouth hanging open. "Little Hangleton, I think it was, unfortunately located in Muggle filth, but our house was the most magnificent. Oh, how our ancestors would crawl in their graves to see the House of Gaunt reduced to such lowliness. At least that boy had some knowledge of magic though he didn't deserve it, or our house would've been more disgraced. Can you imagine it, one of our bloodline not knowing how to use magic?" Alessandra and Regulus exchanged a glance as he cackled. It was a good thing he was behind bars and didn't know who Alessandra was, or Morfin would've probably ripped Alessandra's throat out by now.

"I think that's all we're going to get out of him," Reg whispered, looking down at Morfin in disgust as he now rambled away. "Let's get out of here, I can feel my soul evaporating as the time ticks."

"We just walk out?"

"We just walk out."

Huh. Suddenly, a lot of things about the war made sense.

⚜

They stood in front of Gaunt Shack the next day.

"Are we sure we're at the right place? He said the house was supposed to be most magnificent."

"He also said this was supposed to be a house, yet the only house I see is for rats," Regulus kicked at a rock in front of Gaunt Shack, recoiling as though the rock had burnt him. "If this is where Morfin lived, I suspect he went mad over here before even going to Azkaban."

"Let's just go in," she sighed. "Get this over with. You're sure there are no barriers, right?"

"What do you mean, let's?" Regulus snorted, trying to pull away from her grasp. "You're not going."

"Technically, it's my house-"

"It's not a house. It's an unsafe shack that looks like it could crumble any moment."

"I don't care what your opinion of it is, I'm going. There could be something valuable in there for me."

"You know what else is valuable? Your life."

"Regulus!" she exploded. "Think for a moment about how I feel. My maternal family doesn't want me. All I have from my paternal family is a couple of certifiably insane family members, a few cursed pieces of jewellery and a decrepit house. Everyone's family is better off than me - I'd have rather had no family at all. If there's something in there that could make me feel a little better, I'll take it. I want more than just being able to talk to snakes."

He merely blinked at her, seemingly unsurprised by her outburst. "You have...magic."

"Sure I do."

"I don't think you understand how impressive it is to teach yourself magic, that too wandless magic, in a world where magic is merely a myth."

The warmth that took over her wasn't enough to subdue the chills she got when she thought of her deranged, fucked up family. "Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know. It's just... it's so depressing seeing how neither side of my family wants me. One side gave me away, the other side would probably kill me."

He began rubbing soothing circles into her palm. "Let me be very frank here. No pureblood family, at least not the ones in the same circles as our family, wants their children. They want what their children could bring them. Not even money, image. As someone who grew up in that place, I think you were much better off in a world where they didn't know you exist."

"I hate them."

He let out a humorless laugh. "Same, darling."

"I'm still going in."

He tilted his head up, probably praying to God for the first time in his life. "Fine," he exhaled. "Fine. Let's."

"Fine," she imitated him, and he swatted at her before taking out his wand.

"Remember, the moment you see danger, run."

"Yeah, I think I know how this works. I've watched enough horror movies."

He rolled his eyes and waved his wand, sending the door flying off its hinges and nearly giving her a heart attack in the process.

"Regulus!"

"It wasn't supposed to do that," he said, unbothered. "Ladies first."

She shook her head at him and walked in. The intention was to look around the house...but there was nothing to look at but a loose floorboard, under which there was a small black box. 

"That's it?!" she exclaimed. "His life essence, and he just left it in a small box in an abandoned house, for anybody to just pick up?"

"You forget that there were spells around the perimeter of...I think that was supposed to be a house."

"He didn't even try to hide the box!" she claimed indignantly. "This was disappointing."

"I think facing Dementors made up for it, Sandra. This is a win." He walked forward and plucked up the box.

Nothing happened.

"We're supposed to update Dumbledore on this."

"Yes."

"But...can we really trust that we can hand it to the Order, and it won't be stolen or Moldyshorts won't find out?"

"No," Regulus said instantly, popping the box open.

"So... what do we do?"

"Your call."

"You can't say that," she stomped her foot, sending dust crumbling from the roof. "It's too much responsibility."

He huffed out a laugh. "I think we both know I'm a bit..biased against that old cow."

"Really? I had no idea."

"It's your call. We could even sell it and take the fortune and run off to somewhere, if you wanted. Everyone would just assume we died, which is very probable. Even I don't know if we're alive right now or this is just a figment of our imagination."

"You're making my head spin," she groaned. "Be honest, what do you think we should do?"

"Hide it somewhere. But it's your call."

"No, I think that too. Put a bunch of those wack spells on the location so nobody can find it, and just leave it there till we need it again."

Regulus hummed contentedly. "I would kiss you if this place didn't give me the heebie-jeebies."

She burst into laughter. "Heebie-jeebies."

"Sirius said it once, he said it meant-"

"No, no, I know it's a word," her laughter was now echoing off the walls. "It's just absurd seeing a man in a suit use the word 'heebie-jeebies'."

"Whatever," Regulus looked away, his cheeks pink. "Your laughter is creeping me out even more. Can we please leave this place?"

"Fine, fine."

"Can I just say, I'm so happy I didn't have to come here to meet your family."

"Hey! I'm sure it would've been much more homely than your house."

"Probably," he looped his arm through hers. "So, where do you think we should hide it?"

⚜

"I have a question."

"Hm?" she turned away from the pile of mud that had neatly taken itself out of the Earth with the help of magic.

"Did you really think this was a good hiding place or did you just want to hide it here out of spite?"

"I mean, I guess a small part of my subconscious wanted to spite your mother by hiding this thing here."

"No, I meant your father, although that makes a lot of sense.

"My father?"

"Yeah, hide his life source at the place you had your first kiss with your boyfriend who's trying to kill him."

Her eyes lit up. "That's killing THREE birds with one stone! Genius!"

The insanity possessing the ruins of the old Black Manor seemed to approve, given by the way lightning flashed at that very moment. Regulus found it amusing because if they didn't think she was impure, his ancestors would have wholeheartedly approved of her.

Not that it mattered. They were dead and gone.

She held out her hand. "The ring."

His hands shook a little as he took out the ring and placed it in her hand, a massive weight immediately lifting off his shoulders. His lungs felt like they had just had all the toxic air from Azkaban pumped out of them.

Alessandra, in the meantime, was curiously eyeing the ring, which she had only just gotten to truly see. The ring wasn't ugly, but it wasn't fabulous - the stone was dull and the band could do with some polishing. On the surface, it looked unremarkable and not like something that could change the fate of the world. At a deeper glance though, the ring actually looked like it possessed some secret of the universe, and she realised...

She had to put the ring on.

"No, don't!" Regulus yelled, finally jolting back to Earth, but Alessandra had already slipped the ring on.

"What?" she startled, the ring now firmly set on her finger. She was now humming with a certain energy, and the world seemed very focused, like she had just worn a pair of glasses. Everything seemed much more vivid - the colours seemed to pop, and she could hear very clearly, like she'd just been pulled out from under the water.

"I wasn't sure if it was cursed," he said slowly. "But it seems fine. I still don't think you should have it on. It may be a slow-acting poison or something of the sort."

The panic bubbling up within her didn't seem as profound as the urge to wear the ring forever, but she made a face and tugged at it nevertheless.

"Is it not coming off?" Regulus' voice had risen a tad bit.

"No, it's just a bit tight," she made a face as she twisted the ring off her finger. "I don't feel any different though, so it's fine."

The world had returned back to its original state, and she didn't realise until then how much of a headache the vibrant colours had given her. Or how heavy it had made her feel.

Odd.

"You feel a lot lighter now, don't you?"

"How did you know?"

"I was on the verge of death and could still feel it back then, it was that intense." He rolled his shoulders, as though he was trying to shake off invisible creepy-crawlies. "Can we just get this over with? Just seeing that thing makes me nervous."

She threw the ring inside, loathing it but missing it as the pile of dirt floated into the pit they had dug, hiding the ring from her. She watched mutely as he began casting protective charms, her mind a thousand miles away.

What would her life have been like if things were different? Would her father give this to her to wear?

The goosebumps dotting her arms now were far more discomforting than the ones she had at the sea.

⚜