Eleanora heard the voices, three of them at least, chanting the same words over and over and over. She couldn't understand them no matter how hard she concentrated but they called to her nevertheless. She followed the words across the hollows of the grey land, slowly at first, allowing them to gently spur her on but then faster as they became more insistent. Soon Eleanora found herself running across the fog covered ground towards the unknown. The words were foreign, latin perhaps, but somehow she felt certain she was answering a call, though she knew not who's call or even whom they wanted.

It wasn't long before Eleanora discovered where the heavenly call was coming from and when she saw it, she ran harder and faster almost instinctively. It was an enormous black curtain fluttering in a breeze all of its own. Eleanora had never seen such a thing before, not in all the time she'd spent in the void, it had no frame, nothing appeared to be holding it up. It just was. The curtain was torn and ripped in places as if loved and well used and behind it she could see bright, warm looking light filtering through and she wanted it fiercely.

Eleanora pushed herself on, holding up her dress to free her legs and before long she found herself gazing up at the curtain in awe. From there the voices were clearer but she only understood one word...a name she supposed...Riddle.

From the foot of the curtain she could feel the breeze turning into a pull as if a vortex was trying to suck her up inside and for the first time Eleanora wondered if chasing the call had been a mistake. The slight woman fought against it, knowing she didn't belong where she was but also that the voices beyond the curtain weren't calling for her, they wanted someone else. She bit her lip in indecision wondering what to do, torn between her morals and her need. There was no one else around, no others to heed the great call. Would it be such a sin if she were to heed it? Eleanora wanted out, no she needed out, the void had been called home for far too long. It was depressing and desolate and the nature she had so loved and nurtured was nowhere to be seen, it was a veritable hell.

Finally when still no one else had heeded the call Eleanora let the great breeze take her. Her body was lifted up slowly but around her the winds increased two-fold, spinning around her frail limbs. Then the grey fog was all around her and her skin stung from how cold and harsh it was. Before Eleanora knew what was happening, it was creeping down her throat and expanding inside her chest cavity, slowly but surely consuming everything in its path. Then she was coughing and choking as it took hold of her lungs and squeezed. Had this been some trick to send her to her final death? No, no she wasn't giving up! She hadn't the first time, which had been the reason she'd been caught in the void. Eyes wide open, hands clawing at her throat and fighting against death for all she was worth, Eleanora was pulled across the dense air through the heavy black curtain…

"You said this would work." Thorfinn accused.

"I said I thought it would work." Dolohov growled back, his dark eyes flashing angrily. "Clearly it did work in some capacity."

"I told you we should have used Voldemort." Rodolphus added blandly, as they took in the prone form before them.

He had no idea who they had called but she was definitely no Voldemort.

"Voldemort wasn't his real name." he explained testily.

Dolohov pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a searing headache coming on. He was never going to hear the end of this. They had wanted the dark lord, deatheater extraordinaire, but instead he'd brought back a small light haired doll from beyond the veil.

Rabastan looked around them warily, wand clutched tightly in his fist. It was well past the bewitching hour and they had made more than enough noise to draw suspicions should anyone be passing close by the death chamber.

"There's always the possibility that he...changed forms on the other side." he suggested, ignoring their disdainful looks. "No one has ever come back, who are we to say this isn't him?"

"Welp, we'll never know unless we wake her." Thorfinn said decisively through an indecisive shrug. He looked around at the others, all squatted around the woman's unconscious body and when no one argued, cast a quick revive spell.

It took but a moment to work, her eyelids began fluttering, limbs moving erratically as if she were having a bad dream. Then two dark orbs burst open and a scream pierced their eardrums. All four men fell backwards, hands over their ears. The only light in the room had been from the tips of their wands and when they fell the room also fell into darkness. Scrambling around in the darkness, feeling for their wands, the men heard movement, then footsteps.

"Where's my wand?"

"Fuuuuuuuck!"

Running footsteps.

"Found it! Lumos!" Rabastan called at the same time they heard a squeak followed by a thump.

The deatheater's scrambled to their feet and jogged around the dais, finally coming to a halt at the front where the woman was just getting back to her feet. It was silent for a long moment as they observed the woman and she them, the little they could in the dim lighting. Her waist long white-blonde hair floated ethereally around her body in stark contrast to the black of her foot length burial gown. Her hands were clasped behind her back and she was up on the balls of her feet as if ready to flee again.

"We're not going to hurt you." Dolohov assured her in his calmest voice, or what Thor called his 'bedroom voice', despite his hatred of the reference.

"What's your name love?" Thorfinn asked softly as he took a knee and inched as close as he dared to the edge.

The first reply that lit up her mind was the truthful one, but she stopped herself before it could even move her lips. They had called for 'Riddle', not her. Would they send her back if she wasn't that person? Of course they would, clearly they weren't just out fishing for souls. This had been the first time she'd ever seen the curtain and quite possibly the last. Oh gods, her mind labored as her heart kicked up wildly, she couldn't go back to that soul sucking place, not ever. Giving up her birth name was truly a small price to pay.

Morals be damned, Eleanora would be whomever she had to to escape the void even, "Riddle."