Warnings: Harry Potter and Crew belong to J.K. Rowling, I make no profit
Some of the writing may come out disfigured, I apologize
I do not own the poem used it belongs to Talmud of Jmmanuel 26:27 – , or Shakespeare's writing
At this point I actually wonder if I have fans anymore. How long has it been since I updated? 2, 3, 4 months? I have no excuse! My account has been up and running. I have a beta reader. Everything is spiffy. I just came to a... standstill. I couldn't think of anything to write. I still don't know what to write!!!! This chapter may be short, or long, I haven't written it at this moment. Kind of just winging it. Hopefully I haven't lost all of you.
If anyone has any plot ideas, I'm all ears.
[ACTUALLY MY BETA IS ON VACATION, SO IF THIS HAS ERRORS, LET ME KNOW]
MiniEinstein: I feel so unworthy of having fans. And yea.. I've completely outdone myself on taking my time! Urg. I'm happy, though, that you enjoyed chapter 10! And thank you for being a loyal fan from chapter 1 to 10!
Stripes-Jaguar: Hold me, thrill me, kiss me, kill me. Somehow, you reprimanding me for taking so much time will make me crawl into a hole. Mayhap since you were one of the first to read my story, and stick by it, you leaving will be devastating.
I'm happy that you enjoyed the pictures. Kinda hard to see them in all since they're so big, but I wouldn't mind sending them in a smaller version to you, if need be. Or to just make me feel better.
Actually, I kept erasing the eyes because I couldn't get them right. But I did really like the ghost effect they gave off. So yes, yes I did do them for a purpose.
ProfessorZ: Another I would keel over without! You've definitely been there from the beginning, even took in my pictures! I hope this chapter wasn't too late to keep you as a fan.
Ski: Thank you so much for hosting my pictures! But why does everyone think I was bored when I drew this...? ;;; I'm an art major! Drawing, blah blah, art, is what I do! People are strange... Anywhoo, thank you for sticking by me and reviewing all chapters! Its really nice to be able to come back to writing and have reviews waiting for you.
Unclear-Destiny: I don't think I've ever had anyone write me a bit of poetry in their review! Beautiful if I do say so myself. If you go to, I think?, chapter 9, at the end are links to the pictures that I drew. If you cant find them, I'll be glad to send you the links again. Hopefully with my taking up this story my ocean of neverending imaginings and pictures wont fail me again!
aya hineshi: A new comer! Whats nice about new reviewers is you don't have to suffer through the wait that everyone else did... I'm glad you like it! Not all new readers like the fic. It takes a certain curiosity and intensity to understand and appreciate the fic. Hopefully you'll be around once I start getting chapter out regularly again.
Chapter Twelve: Talmud of JmmanuelÆternus NoctemThe world has changed. I feel the stale taste of air brush my tongue with every breath. I feel the chaotic magic of the plants course through my veins, barely stranded together. The thought makes my blood churn and heart quicken its pace. I know at this moment, I will die.
But all was not how it seemed. Dragon Maegcair beckoned my spirit to his side from its Earthly Tomb, merging mine with the Sorrow-Hearted Brilhen and the Mind-Fury Culram. Together we drew such a power to be wielded by Maegcair and shake the foundations of the Earth. Yet win we did not. Our unity was not so great as to completely banish the Great Leader, the Dark Lord Helkahir. We could not purge the evil of the Earth. And so did the greatest wizards of the Ascafalas Reign fall to the hands of Helkahir.
Yet not all hope was lost. In the last moments of his life, in his failing breath, Maegcair created a life form, Alkhuan. He would be the soul of us four conjoined, yet of his own mind. Greater than any Lordling, or even Helkahir himself. To ensure that we would have presence to guide Alkhuan, Maegcair cast our souls to the world, laying us dormant until a time would rise for the Final Battle to once again be fought. In this, children would be born of our makings, our shells, our holders, until Alkhuan awakens us. It will be that we shall lay in essence in these children, in their unknowing bodies until we shall once again fight the battle we failed during our own lives.
Non Omnia Possumus Omnes
Harry's eyes moved behind closed lids, the golden orb so carefully wrought by the heavens penetrating his room, blinding all open eyes. Yet Harry remained unconscious of the Sun's efforts in rousing him from his dream state, outwardly struggle none so much as to rouse the Dreamer of his Dreams. For Harry lie in his bed, in his very room with Eadem by his side, yet unawakened. His eyes searched for the draft that declared an opened window, and found none so ajar. The room was ill-lit with few candles illuminating their stands. The chill of the room forced Harry to stir from lying, lifting the heavy blankets that had not shielded his body from the cold. Circling the room, Eadem entwined about his neck, Harry probed the guarding shields, finding no taint to their perfection. Still unsure of the empty room, Harry's fingers glided over the cloth of the couch, magic spreading throughout the room to find any unwanted presence.A soft throaty noise from the once empty window disturbed Harry's concentration, head snapping to attention as his eyes focused on a cloaked figure in the window frame, pale hands grasping the wood, skin stretched too thin to cover all bone. The creature descended from its perch, standing to attention infront of Harry, ice fingers brushing fleetingly over Harry's forehead in recognition. It turned from him then, back to Harry's questioning gaze as it hunched its shoulders.
"And you would fight him yet." A quiet whisper of dry paper rasping against itself, yet as loud as the thunderous roar of a squall threatening to crash upon the very existence of humankind. "Love...is all one sees in your heart. You pain at his loss." A faceless canopy of art turned to Harry then, unseen eyes searching Harry's every cell, presence trailing to the tip of his fingers and through his bones. "I can reawaken him."
Harry stirred in his stance, knowing of whom the Shadow spoke. Alkhuan. Alkhuan who had sacrificed himself so that Harry may yet live amongst his friends. Alkhuan who have loved him with a hate so fierce as to pierce the hide of a Dragon to draw blood. Reaching to his chest, Harry now felt that deadened place within him where Alkhuan had been inside him. The resounding dull thud spread throughout his chest. Alkhuan was no more.
"How am I to believe your word, Shadow?" Harry searched for the eyes that were absent, instead gazing intently into the nothing that the cloak covered.
"You have tasted Dark. You have wielded Hate. You have craved Blood. Are we so much different that you cannot take my word, Alkhuan?" The Shadow moved from Harry's side, circling round the room, the candles fading in its wake.
"There is no promise you can make that I can fully trust, Voldemort's Own. How should I find trust in a nameless anomaly? You live with trust knowing there is no trust in all. You crave the blood that pulses in my body. You crave my flesh to weave a skin so beautiful that all would crave your life. Yet those I cannot give. Why shall I accept Alkhuan back when you crave him just as much as I do?" Harry pushed his fingers outward, the Shadow retreating from his magic.
"I can.. give you much more. Voldemort, Lord, wants you. Wants you and Alkhuan. But for love. He sees no hate in himself for those who were born from his existence. He wants you..to be with him." The Shadow stood back, knowing Harry would see the words for truth.
"How can Voldemort love?"
"You..must ask him when you may read the thoughts of his eyes, little Earthen Born." With that, the Shadow retreated into the dark of the room, candles blowing into a cloud of smoke as he moved past them, retreating into the absence of light they created. "Think of it, Earthen Born..."
Harry watched as it disappeared from view. As it left his Dream Sleep, he stirred to wakefulness, coming to open his eyes to the brilliant light of the risen sun and the shadowed faces of his friends and companions.
"Do we find you well, Harry?" Hermione searched his eyes, curious as to the new light in them, his new understanding that he hid from her.
"You find me waking from a Fate sleep, and of much needed rest and talk. I have seen sights that would chill the skin from my bone had Alkhuan not occupied my body, and seek your council, Lady Helkaoreiel." Harry touched a finger to her forehead, Hermione's eyes knowing that he asked of an inquiry to her God-Touched side.
"I am always here for you, Alkhuan, Harry. I am one with Lady Helkaoreiel. Yet you might be surprised to discover that the Dragon Maegcair has too arisen from his timely sleep." She inclined her head to Draco sleeping on the chair not too far from his own bedside.
"And what of Brilhen, Culram?" Harry sat in bed, seeing past Hermione's shoulders to the other occupants of the room, both asleep as Maegcair.
"They have yet to wake. I fear Brilhen will come only if his need great. For he still inside him carries the pain of Lady Vethule. A memory which we never gave to you." Hermione sat astride Harry's bed, hand brushing the bangs from his face as a Healer tending a young patient. "Some happenings we did not want you to experience and carry within you. It is enough that Brilhen knows the true pain of what transpired. He need not place it as a burden on you also."
"I understand your care. But who was Lady Vethule? Her name resounds through my mind as a ghost. See through and transparent, silky and smooth, and hard to grasp." Harry reached to Hermione's hand, holding it within his own. "Tell me, Helkaoreiel. I wish to know of whom I was created, even if it involves pain."
"Lady Vethule was Brilhen's wife. She followed him in his every stride. Never once complaining of his fate to fight Helkahir, never once dwindling in love. Yet it was her fate to be captures by the Dark Lord's lordlings and brought to our once proud Castle of the Pure. He strung her about the highest peak, from the tallest tower, bound in harsh cords. She was a plain sight to see, all for miles around capable of seeing her strangling figure. Yet not once did she lay down her head from pain, but held it proud, declaring her love for Brilhen and our Side as the Dark Lord lay slaughter to her once beautiful body." Hermione wiped the tears that strayed from her eyes, unused to telling the story of the past which was hers in every sense. "Brilhen carries within him a sorrow filled wind that Blaise does not yet understand. I fear for the day when Brilhen awakens and the Ocean of Sorrow overtakes Blaise. I fear for us all."
Harry long sat gazing at Blaise's restful face, tracing the lines of worry that carved their mark into his once flawless skin. The sad frown of his mouth which had never a need to perform any emotions but a smile. Had Blaise already experienced some of Brilhen's endless grief? Had he already known the death of his love?
"And Ron, what of Ron?" Harry asked after a long moment.
"The Gods fear Ron. Or, in his place, the Gods fear Culram. His love for me drove him to insanity. He was the sole ruin of his clan. Of our allies. It is Culram the Berserker that drives fear into the heart of the Dark Lords, and into the heart of the descendants of the Castle of the Pure." Hermione stood from the bed, holding her hand to Harry.
"You have had Visions, you say? Well these Visions are not to be ignored, and we must speak of them alone, without the ears of Maegcair about us. Will you come with me to the Lake?" Harry gazed up thoughtfully at Lady Helkaoreiel for a moment before nodding his head in agreement. As the sun shone behind her back, Harry could almost envision the battered armor of a long war clinging to her frame, long hair blowing through the wild wind as it screamed in the battle's rage. He could almost feel the magic flowing from her powerful core. He could almost see the true Lady Helkaoreiel.
"Well, and are you coming?" She asked, reaching her hand out further, breaking the sight Harry had been entranced by.
"Yes, I am by your side always."
Blaise opened his eyes to the vibrations of the entrance portrait closing. Lady Helkaoreiel. That was a named bestowed upon Hermione more than once. And by Harry and Draco. Ron seemed to not understand why his friends referred to each other as such, confused a much, if not more so, than Blaise himself. And Hermione had called Harry Alkhuan, though Harry was himself, proclaiming Alkhuan dead. And it hurt, more than he was willing to admit that his friends spoke of this to none but themselves. Had they lost faith in his endeavors? Was he not skilled enough to suit their need? But it had started with himself and Draco. It was they who felt Harry's plea within their souls, they who sought his friendship to help him. Why then was he excluded from further help? Why had he not found his own name, God, past, Ancient, of his own?
And yet, of all, why had it pierced his heart and stopped his breath to hear the name Lady Vethule? The name was at all not familiar to him, yet he knew the feeling Harry spoke of. It was imprinted in his mind. A ghost of a memory not capable of being recalled, but there nonetheless. And though it was a memory of his own, he was not able to remember it.
Though Hermione spoke of her life, or Brilhen, of himself, he could not place together the tangled web of his sporadic thoughts. He was Brilhen, Brilhen was to Lady Vethule, but Brilhen was not himself, Blaise? Such were the words in his mind, such he could not comprehend.
And why had Hermione's voice trembled when she spoke of Ron? Ron who she adored and loved her just as much. Had she lost her love for him? Had she grown weary of his love for her? Ron was not such a man to loose all sense of himself because of Hermione's rejection, if he loved her more than a friend at all. But throughout the course of their schooling at Hogwarts, with all the events of Alkhuan, Eadem, Dumbledore, not once did Ron show any outwardly feelings to Hermione. Blaise was almost undeniably sure that Ron loved Hermione as a friend. Why then did the Gods quake in his spoken name? Why had the Ancient's allies been no more because of Ron? Why was Culram feared?
Blaise closed his eyes in anger. Anger from his own misunderstandings, and anger at his friends for not helping him when he wanted only to help them in return.
Brilhen.
Brilhen.
Brilhen.
Why did the name shudder throughout his body, call to him. Force him to wonder. Was he to know this Brilhen? Was he truly one with Brilhen?
If so, why had Brilhen shied away from Blaise's own calls? Why did he care so little about his descendent if only to leave him in wonder when he could complete him? Why did it hurt Blaise inside to think of abandonment by a legend? Was this what Hermione spoke of?
"And yet you feel inside you, though you push it away, the life force that continues to beat though you tried to put a stop to it."
"Can't you feel it?"
"I can feel it Hermione. Though I don't believe it yearns to be felt as you described it. Brilhen will Sleep inside me."
"As Culram will Sleep inside me until he is needed." Blaise started at the sound of Ron's voice. "Hermione has spoken true of fear. I fear the presence inside me though I should embrace it. I fear it as I fear for Harry's death by Draco's hand during their fight. Though, I am scared to believe that I killed so many because of blind love," Ron looked into Blaise's eyes. "Am I right to fear myself?"
"I don't know, Ron. Should we be kept in fear by our friends?"
"We seek to keep you from questioning yourselves," Draco spoke, his eyes still closed, sitting in his chair.
"Hermione was right. All should speak away from the ears of Maegcair." Blaise shifted on the couch, disturbed by Draco having assumed control of the conversation.
"Lady Helkaoreiel is to what you should refer to her as," Draco watched idly as Ron turned away in anger and Blaise sighed without control.
"Well, and what should we refer to you as? Are you Draco? Are you Maegcair? Are you not friend but foe, you must tell us these things Ancient!" Blaise stood, pacing from the couch. Without Hermione to silence him with a look, Draco was much more open to speaking in the presence of his friends.
"I am Draco, Blaise. You of all hold such knowledge. And we are friends, all of us. Yet, I am Maegcair without any doubt in my mind. But such does not change who we are together. I remember times that no one remembers, because part of me lived it. And so did part of you too." Draco moved to Ron's side, tilting his head with his hand, to look into the defiant eyes of the Berserker.
"You, Ron, should fear no fear. With you on our side, we were undefeatable in the Final Battle. It was your love for Lady Helkaoreiel that gathered your clan to our side. Your love that held strong the ties between wizards and other magical beings." Draco gazed sadly into the all too familiar eyes that shone back at him, seeing Culram emerge from within. "Yet, you too should understand the pain that Culram caused to himself and others. If you claim no other love for Hermione then that of friendship, hold it to your mind if you so doubt yourself in the future."
"I have for many a day felt Culram inside me. I wished not to alert any of his presence rising, for you all seemed to gaze strangely upon me. But I think, within my heart I know, that we are more different than similar." Ron held Draco's hand, grasped between his own as his eyes searched frantically through Draco's, trying to explain his loyalty. "I believe with every fiber of my being that I can tame him when he so chooses to birth himself in my body. I know his past actions will effect not mine of the present day. I will control the Berserker within myself. Control mine own blood with as much craft as given from my ancestors."
"I believe you Ron. Believe in you. Culram was not so gentle with words or feelings. Too caught in his clan politics to find ties to humanity other than force. But you, Ron. In you I see Ronald Weasley. And I see the concentration of a young man that will do anything to prove himself. Had Culram awakened at this moment, you would not stir a hair, controlling him as you see fit. Blending your power with his own, capturing your past.
Come, Ron, Blaise. I will help you all I can in learning how to control the Ancient inside you, and in calling them to Life."
Hermione sat by the edge of the water, fingers trailing gently above the surface as not to create a ripple, but feel the cool bite of the liquid beneath her hands without a stir. Not a being stirred beneath the surface, no unearthly creation of the water's deep came to greet the pair of Ancients. All sat silent beneath the protective cover of the water's mouth, awed and fearful of the two unworldly figures that graced their presence.
"I feel temptations within me. Temptations that I could not bare to accept, but cannot live without." Harry looked upon the water which had haunted his dreams. Drowning him in it's depth. Smothering the flickering candle of his life.
"I cannot tell you what is right from wrong. Friends from Foe. I can tell you of your creation, how you came to being, why Voldemort performed that certain spell on you, what changed inside you by it. But I cannot choose for you." Hermione looked to Harry, watching and waiting for his response.
"But these answers I have. Maegcair created me. Harry birthed me. Voldemort envied me. Alkhuan changed me. These I know! But it is these I cannot grasp. I cannot foretell what is expected of me. Hermione," Harry turned to her, grasping her hand. "I cannot deny that the darkness within me has not grown from Alkhuan. Through his life I have felt things that I would never have experienced otherwise. And.. oh Helkaoreiel, I cannot say that I am left undisturbed by such events!" Harry stood, walking into the water of the lake, turning to face Hermione. "I know inside I wish to breathe in the hate and evil that Alkhuan circulated through me. I wish to be part of Voldemort's side, part if his essence! Yet, when I gaze into your eyes, I hate that part of me, wishing with disgust that it weren't so. Realizing that the love in me is strong enough to prevent myself from temptation. But it is there Hermione. It is there. And that is enough." Harry shed his cloak, tossing it to the water's edge and Hermione's side as she gazed on, unblinking.
"You are not alone in your thoughts Harry. All who live through such a time as we think with such a disturbance. Tell me of your dream. Your vision." Hermione pulled the warm cloak from her shoulders, stepping into the piercing frost of the lake, joining Harry by his side.
"I was sleeping, but awake. I walked but was still. And Voldemort's Spawn was at my side. He promised redemption. Promised power. Promised Alkhuan. For he is dead within me Hermione, and a loss I could not know until he was gone. And I was tempted! Tempted to turn my side for Alkhuan. For he is an unexpected weakness none could foretell." Sinking to his knees, Harry's body shook from the cold of the lake, dragging Hermione into it's grasp. "Tell me Hermione. Place your troubles onto me, for I will carry it to another time, another place, another world. If only you would tell me what it is I need to know."
"I cannot, Harry. I cannot! I can only hope that you will choose a side that needs you. Loves you. You are a part of us all, Harry. It is us in you that whispers through your mind, creating your thoughts. Us who are the soul of your power. Us combined that created your life. And we would have it no other way. I only hope that in your despair, you can still see that." Hermione rose from the lake, walking to the dry shore to gather her cloak. "Find true love within yourself, Harry, and you will find us."
"This is unexpected and surreal, Draco. I am unsure if I can fully embrace the memories trapped within my soul accounted from what Hermione told Harry." Blaise sat upon velvet of the finest touch, coloured to the deepest wine, and still found no comfort in its soft embrace. Draco had related all he could recount of Lady Vethule's demise, triggering unspoken whispers in Blaise's mind. Triggering Brilhen to stir.
"But this is you, Blaise. You are Brilhen. Created from his soul. Molded from his body. Formed from his failure. It is not yours to choose, for you will accept Brilhen by means of Merging with him, or succumbing to the fate of Alkhuan and Harry." Draco sat beside Ron whom understood the life inside him, before him. No doubt was in his mind of Culram's presence, yet no fear either. He had accepted the circumstances, and Culram would become his unconsciousness, a second power and memory to his own. Never would he allow the Jealous Ancient to run amuck with such a power as a Berserker.
Yet Blaise could not help but feel the pains of Lady Vethule's loss creep through his bones and into his mind, creating a prominent cold no flame could dispense. For all he found was fear for his Ancient. Brilhen was the one sending the emotions, Blaise knew. Not so fear for his Ancient, but for the sorrow that his Ancient forced him to experience with no relent. Brilhen wanted not to be awakened.
Draco could not distinguish through reasoning the causes of Brilhen's troubles. Could something have gone disturbingly wrong when he sent his friends into sleep? Even Culram lay waiting for Ron to summon him, not forcing his way through as Maegcair and Lady Helkaoreiel had in him and Hermione.
But Brilhen.
Brilhen resisted Blaise's summons. Resisted Blaise's calls. Though it pained Blaise to find rejection from his past, the horrid emotions Brilhen sent streaming to Blaise could only mean that he still dwelt in the past. On Lady Vethule. While he, Helkaoreiel and Culram lie dormant, without thought, without life, waiting for their Holders, had Brilhen been awake? Had he fought to breathe in the airless trap he was subjected to? That they all were subjected to? Had he found thought whereas they were peacefully awaiting the time that they were to wake? And through this torment of remembrance, had Brilhen's sole focus been the image of the ravaged Lady Vethule gazing eyelessly over the lands they had once cultivated, had called their home?
And Brilhen would not awaken in this life. He knew his time had come. After centuries of memories to drive him to insanity, for him to live though he craved the blissful endless sleep, he would not subject his sire, Blaise, to the torments that coursed through his mind. He would lie dormant until Blaise fell to his destiny, bringing Brilhen's sorrow filled life to the end he so dearly craved.
"Am I intruding on a private seminar and leave, or shall I continue into the room and intern the conversation?" Hermione stood in the doorway, droplets of lake water falling from her clothes, a heavy thud created in the silence cast about the room.
"We were concluding our discussion, if you must know, Hermione," Ron said, standing from the couch. "Is Harry all right, or should we be more worried about our friend?"
"Harry is...feeling emotions one would normally wish not to experience." Walking to her friend's side, Hermione stood amidst the circle of Hogwarts students she would never had expected to feel love for. "All we can do is show him that we are him. Harry was created from our love and power. And it is all we can do to hope that when the time comes, he remembers such ties."
TALMUD OF JMMANUEL
"There is no eye equal to wisdom,
No darkness equal to ignorance,
No power equal to the power of the spirit,
No terror equal to the poverty of consciousness."