Prologue: From the Ashes

My heart races.

This is it; the moment I've been waiting for. Living for.

My breath catches in my throat as His cold eyes bore into mine, and I suddenly feel certain that He is staring into the depths of my soul. They are the same red eyes that I have stared into countless times before, but there's something very different in them this time.

I nod firmly and exhale steadily, bracing myself.

"I'm ready."

My voice does not tremble. A faint flicker of pride blossoms in my chest and I hold onto it like a lifeline. I will not waver. I've waited for this, prepared for this. I am ready.

He extends a hand slowly, wand balanced delicately between his fingers, his eyes still fixed on mine. My gaze shifts between them and I'm unable to look away. His doubt is clear in the bloodred depths of his challenging stare.

The tip of his wand grazes my extended arm and a jolt runs through me.

A soft, throbbing discomfort spreads through me as the tip of his wand digs into the flesh of my forearm, the epicenter of a steadily growing ripple of pain. And then it intensifies, setting my nerves on fire and peaking at a shuddering agony that flashes up my arm in waves, spreading over my body and taking my heart in its vice grip.

My stomach convulses, my eyes widen, and my knees lock and buckle. It is a pain that shouldn't be possible, exploding behind my eyes in colors brighter than any that I've seen before. My jaws are locked in a silent scream that doesn't ever leave my parted lips. Tears prick at the back of my eyes and it takes every ounce of strength that I have to force them back. I will not cry. Not now, not when there's so much I have to prove.

And then, in the midst of all the pain -

I almost don't notice it. A dark shadow branches from the tip of the wand and seems to burrow under my skin, writhing beneath the surface before snaking out, streams of it branching off in smooth lines and sharp twists.

My jaws snap together as I hold in a scream. The acrid tang of blood seeps into my mouth as my teeth clamp down on my tongue to keep from shrieking. I'm being torn open from the inside, ripped apart. It's the Cruciatus Curse, magnified a million times. Something within me is trying to tear its way out.

It stops, all at once, and the sudden lack of feeling almost hurts more than the pain.

My breath comes in gasps and my vision is blurred. A trickle of blood runs from my lips. My stomach turns over and my bones are stiff and screaming. My head pounds. But worse yet is my arm. It doesn't hurt - it feels numb, and I have to look down to make sure I still have skin and bone and muscle below my elbow. My heart shudders as my eyes catch on the dark figure spread over the skin of my left forearm.

A black inked snake slithers from the mouth of a skull, its jaws open in a hiss and its fangs poised to strike. It moves subtly over my skin, its tongue flicking out and its scaled body shifting. I flex my hand a few times, breathing heavily as I haul myself to my feet. The feeling slowly sets back in until only a lingering whisper of discomfort remains.

And somehow after all that agony, I feel lighter. Like a great weight has been lifted.

As I stare down at the mark that brands my skin, my doubts are suddenly dispelled. For the first time in a long time I feel certain that everything in my life has led up to this moment. For the first time in my life I feel absolutely unafraid.

For the first time in a long time, I feel proud.

I am gone. I am gone, and from my ashes something greater has been born.

I tear my eyes from the new mark - my new mark, I think with a rush of glee - and look up to meet His eye, a smile stretching over my lips. A new power courses through me, making my body tingle and my head feel light.

His shallow red eyes appraise me and he smiles a cold, sneering smile. I bow before Him, shutting my eyes and cherishing this new feeling of power and belonging. My next words are a whisper, but they are clear in the silence of the room. They feel right leaving my lips.

"My Lord."