Book Two:
ascendant
We all love after-the-bomb stories. If we didn't, why would there be so many of them? There's something attractive about all those people being gone, about wandering in a depopulated world, scrounging cans of Campbell's pork and beans, defending one's family from marauders. But some secret part of us thinks it would be good to survive. All those other folks will die. That's what after-the-bomb stories are all about.
― John Varley
There can be no rebirth without a dark night of the soul, a total annihilation of all that you believed in and thought that you were.
― Vilayat Khan
Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster... for when you gaze long into the abyss. The abyss gazes also into you.
― Friedrich W. Nietzsche
"…Good evening, London. We bring breaking news from the Scotland borders, where a training exercise has led to the disappearance of over twelve hundred British soldiers…"
"The Ministry of Magic has confirmed that an unknown curse of unknown limit has been cast in the past 24 hours - a mandatory evacuation of Hogsmeade Village is now in vigour…"
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been shut down after the disappearance of most members of the Order of the Phoenix and several Aurors…"
"…more bodies are retrieved from the village of Dufftown, where entire families have been reported missing, in what seems to be a brutal terrorist attack…"
"...The rescue parties for the Prime Minister are still working on their leads as the Deputy Prime Minister is appointed to the office…"
"Over one thousand people have reported severely ill after what seems to be a radioactive-like fallout from Northern Scotland…"
"We have gone through this before, Brian, there are extremists everywhere, you can't simply accuse one incident with a sinister cult of witchcraft and expect that suddenly there is… what, a whole community of wizards? That's insane…"
"Millions stay in their homes, people are too scared of what they have called the Draconian Flu…"
"Witch-hunting has become a sport for many British families, they walk with their weapons and guns and they target what they claim to be wizards…"
"…emergency rooms have been overwhelmed with patients showing signs of what's been dubbed the Draconian Flu…"
"...the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy has reported nearly 74 breaches in the past six months…"
"The source of the illness has been traced to a highly toxic breach from the Scottish Highlands; the levels of toxicity have caused the British Government to order an emergency evacuation…"
"The Ministry of Magic highly recommends that, if seen by muggles, do not hesitate in apparating to a safe place, grab your loved ones, your wands…"
"…stay with your families, know your evacuation routes…"
"Containment… is not very likely…"
"Would muggles be truly more subjective to the curse than wizards, then?"
"The CDC is projecting a fatality toll ranging from five million to as many as a hundred and fifty million in the next months…"
"Over a hundred wizarding families have disappeared in the midst of the Witch-Hunting seasons…"
"...martial law has been declared in twenty-eight nations, including the U.S. and Canada…"
"…we see millions marching the main avenues in London, chanting for what they claim to be Witch-Hunting…"
"They're burning those children in broad daylight! We can still hear their cries from here, they're catching fire..."
"…we see the total collapse of anything resembling civilian order…!"
"…and the congress is down, I repeat, there is no regular government function…"
"...starting tonight, the parliament declares war against the wizarding kind. May God be with you all."
Prelude:
The Boneyard
An endless pitch black colour painted the sky, so raw and starless; the boy could not tell whether it was a cavernous ceiling or if he was staring at the infinite nothingness. In front of him, a female statue glowed in the empty horizon, so contrasting and so uniquely lit like a candle. She had this faded grey tone, so fleshy and inhumane, void of any life. Still and perfectly frozen, into this endless blackness. It felt like nothing would ever happen in that limbo-like space.
The boy's curious hand neared the one female statue closest to him, this body of marble once beautiful and life-filled. And when his finger touched the cold surface of her cheekbones, the statue collapsed. A cascade of ashes and particles, falling to the ground like a glacier calving.
And behind her, another statue was made visible, as if revealed behind this black mist. Just like the previous statue, this one of a man, it was so immortalised by their perfect stillness; the boy wondered if they were really only statues.
And then it crumbled. Another curtain of dust and ashes, revealing another statue behind. The boy chased it, and the one behind it. One by one, they glowed against the darkness of that place, only to collapse at the first touch, and as if a blanket had been pulled from the stage, suddenly the world expanded into infinity - a sea of marble statues surrounding the boy. They were everywhere he looked, a crowd of stone people, because he was sure that not even the most skilled hand on earth could recreate the human figure with such perfection and resemblance. And then they crumbled. From a middle point where he stood, the statues began cascading to the ground in a domino effect, a row of falling ashes stretching to the horizon and disappearing into the end of the world.
Hiccup landed on a deserted Berk.
A grey and blue sunset painted the landscape of the town in deep, sinister cerulean shades. Although he could still make out the familiar train tracks that led to the upper hills of the town, he could barely recognise the scenery. It was like the village had been struck by a tornado. Parts of the buildings had missing chunks of wood here and there; smoke spiralled up the old department store that used to be Berk's only source of supplies. The empty streets were a sad reminder of the former busy market place where the villagers would mind their everyday routines. The trees which used to brighten up the entrance to the village with shades of green and yellow were now dead and dry.
Tears formed on Hiccup's eyes.
Clenching his fists, he walked up, adamant to reach his house. His home. Where his father was certainly waiting for him to arrive. Safe. Shaken. But alive. He had to be alive. He had to. First he walked, and then he ran, faster the more he saw the empty houses with open doors, broken windows and empty rooms.
It was the second time that year that Hiccup rushed into his empty home. An eerie feeling found him instead of comfort. The first time, he had collapsed into tears. Back then, on what he had thought to be the worst day of his life.
He rushed towards his room — every last item he possessed still remained untouched, exactly the way he had left them. The ink he had used to write Astrid's letter was still unscrewed on his desk. His books remained carelessly thrown in piles surrounding his bed.
Gulping drily, he walked slowly towards his father's room. A strange smell seeped from the door when he neared it, and that was when the tears truly escaped his control. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes tightly as he resolved to this reality, his lips pressing into a thin line as he opened the door.
When Aster died, a strange but unmistakable smell of putrefaction and burnt flesh covered his bed in the Hospital Wing. That had been only a day before. Now, the same smell struck his nostrils with such grief that the boy collapsed on his knees, sinking to the floor. He expected to find Stoick's body, however, laying on the bed.
Instead, he found nothing but blood marks.
Outside, Toothless sang a mournful howl, a single note whistle of agonising loneliness, a serenade to the blue twilight painting the sky. The world had fallen silent.
Chapter Thirty-Two:
Kenopsia
ONE YEAR LATER
A grey sunrise greeted the spectral buildings of London. As the young wizard walked, he kept his head low, his chin sinking through the collar of his muggle coat. He still hadn't gotten used to the empty scenario that was Oxford Street. A huge tarp hung over the shuttered circular square.
The wizard kept walking ahead, aware of any other presence. The streets were ghostly empty. It used to be that over eight million people crowded the city. But as he wandered past the closed stores, he could barely remember seeing that many people in his lifetime, like reminiscing a dream. Some signs hung loosely on the walls and poles. BEWARE OF WITCHCRAFT! Some said. Others went 'WITCH HUNTING ON THE CHILTERN HILLS – MONDAY AT DUSK'. A huge stripe crossed the street: SOUND THE ALARM AT CONFIRMED SIGHT OF WIZARDS - Minor suspicions must be further investigated. The man remembered when the last alarm had been blasted four months ago. The longest time silent yet, when Hannah Abbot had been captured by witch hunters near Candem. Every now and then he would see a car parked on the street, most of which had been standing there for so long that the smashed windows gave way to growing mould and vines; Today he had seen only one moving car, which had a tag displayed on the back 'I SURVIVED THE APOCALYPSE — NEVER KISSED YOUR LIPS'. The inside of his coat squirmed. The wizard placed a hand over his chest, carefully patting it. "Easy, Toothless." He muttered.
Soon, he neared a small abandoned store building to which muggles paid no mind. He opened a narrow black door swiftly, entering what turned out to be a small dark sitting room; one of the walls was covered with bookshelves going from floor to ceiling. The other walls held at least ten different doors, all with different sizes – all of them enchanted with expansion charms. An old and ripped leather sofa, a coffee table and a couple comfortable armchairs grouped together over a dusted carpet. Although old-looking, the place was quite cosy. The boy placed the small dragon over the table, walking further into the small kitchen, this one lit by small windows that peered high on the wall.
"Hiccup?" A female voice spoke from the room. Looking behind himself, the boy found the curvy figure of Astrid – it still shocked him at times how her skin had turned whiter, as if it thirsted for sunlight. Her long golden hair now reached her waist in soft waves, but it had lost some of its former shine. Astrid had always been beautiful, but now her undeniable beauty seemed broken.
"Hey you," He said softly, and the girl walked into the kitchen, stopping in front of him. "Everything all right here?" He asked as she pulled off his hood, revealing a much matured Hiccup. His face had become longer, more angular; his jaw was now much sharper, covered by a thin layer of facial hair. Astrid pulled him into an embrace. He had also become taller than her.
"What is it?" He asked, worried. Astrid only shook her head, and he embraced her tighter. "Afraid I wasn't gonna make it back?" He half-joked, half-meant it. He caressed her face with his thumb. "I was just out to get us some food. I'm not going to disappear."
"I know," She replied, and he leaned down to kiss her squarely on the lips. "I was just afraid… I don't know; I've been listening to the radio this morning."
They untangled from each other, Astrid staring at the floor. "Anyone we know?" He asked, to which she shook her head again.
"No." She said, "They just executed a girl. She was playing with sticks, I think."
This sort of news no longer shocked Hiccup. He merely nodded.
"Was it here in London?"
"Yes, in Farringdon... It's the first in weeks, though; we haven't heard the alarm for so long..."
"Because no proven wizard has been seen for so long. We're gonna be fine." He replied, and she tilted her head. "I promise you, these hunters are no match to us." He said, pulling her into another kiss.
"Why doesn't that make me feel any better?" She looked at him with tired eyes, and he knew better than to distract her with jokes.
"Come on, Astrid, we've been here for what, three months? And another month before just running until we settled in this place. I think we can say we're pretty safe here." The girl nodded again, closing her eyes.
"I just don't like being so settled…" She said. "I feel like I should be outside, with you… doing something, anything."
"You are always welcome to come with me," He assured her. "But just because you're inside doesn't mean you're doing nothing. You keep me updated, you listen to the radio, you let me know what's going on from here…"
"It's not enough." She sighed, now with a defeated tone, walking away.
"Astrid…" He tried, but she did not stop, disappearing into her bedroom. The boy stared blankly, defeated. Then he eyed the small radio standing at the table. He walked towards it suspiciously, hitting it with the tip of his wand once, filling the air with static noise.
'...comes to us this evening from the north of England, where a wizard family by the name of Westinburgh were found dead in their cellar. While not a member of the now extinct Order of the Phoenix, Mr. Westinburgh and his wife had, on numerous occasions, provided shelter for its members...'
Disgusted, the boy turned it back off. It was much later, though, that he decided to peek into the little room he often shared with Astrid to talk to the girl. He found her hugging her own knees, sitting on the bed, her wand illuminating her features in soft tones of blue and silver. Laid in front of her, another radio echoed only the static, sometimes wandering to muggle stations in its poor signal – the few remaining muggle radio stations had no better news. She heard him entering, and again, Hiccup's heart broke at seeing her holding on so sadly.
He coughed. "Hey."
"Hey." She whispered back. He sat down on the bed next to her, but he didn't look at her, choosing to stare at the floor instead. They remained quiet for a moment.
"I want you to go out with me tomorrow." He said, and the girl remained expressionless.
"Why?"
"To see the world," He tried. "Fresh air… break the routine."
"Hiccup… as much as I'd love your company, there isn't much out there which I would like to see."
The boy took a deep breath. "I thought you felt trapped here." He explained.
"It's not trapped…" She turned away. "I don't know… I don't like being in one place… but I also don't like seeing the world. I dunno, it's too much. I thought I was strong enough."
"You are strong." Hiccup said, now looking at her. "You are strong. Don't ever let yourself believe otherwise."
"But Hiccup… I can't even leave the house without breaking into tears. I don't move, I don't fight— I don't even help you enough, what does that make me?" Her voice broke at the end, choking.
"It makes you human." The boy said, and she moved closer to him, promptly welcomed into another hug. "This is the world now, Astrid. Nothing we do can change that."
She nodded. "Where do you want to go tomorrow?"
Hiccup pondered for a second. "They have this witch hunting thing tomorrow night… I figured we could have some fun."
"Seriously… we were just talking about keeping things safe and you want to go witch hunting?"
The boy shrugged. "I thought it would be entertaining."
Astrid smiled. With a quick motion, Hiccup kicked off his boots, climbing further into bed, shutting off the girl's radio and diving into the covers. "But if you want we could play-pretend for today."
The girl rolled her eyes, but the boy saw the little smirk she gave. "Here we go again. What's going on today, Mister?"
"Well… you name it. What's beyond these walls today? A crowded King's Cross station? Or maybe we could be floating miles above the French alps…"
"I kinda like this last one better." She let herself curl against the boy's torso comfortably. "The house is floating. So that's why we can't even open the doors, the cold would freeze us up."
"Right," He continued. "And also, who knows, if we open the door, perhaps we end up falling over and dying…"
"Yeah, Toothless is sound asleep in the other room, he's letting you fall big time."
They both laughed, lost in their own minds. "So in this case we are really trapped in here for the better." He said, and Astrid sunk her head into his chest, her hand clutching his shirt in her fingers.
The next day brought an air of adventure. Although nervous, it was the first time in months Astrid felt something close to excitement. Part of her still wanted to stay in the house, but she had agreed to Hiccup's invitation. He was going whether she would keep him company or not. In the end, she decided to dress up on her black travelling coat, her leather boots hugging her legs tightly under her knees. She stared at herself in the mirror, pulling her hair up in a ponytail, and she found herself looking at a ghost.
Hiccup waited for her at the door. He had his brown leather jacket above his multiple layers of sweaters, his dark jeans clutching to his legs. He hid his wand up his sleeves, ready for the taking in case he needed it. When Astrid walked out of the room, wearing her dark travel coat and her leather boots, Hiccup smiled. "Oh, look at you; can I ask who's your companion tonight, Milady?"
Astrid smiled, "Oh, you know, this goody-two-shoes from school thinks he can swoon me; I've decided to let him try."
"Poor guy, then. Should have stayed home." He opened the door, and the cold air outside sought no refreshment to their pale faces. Their hands gripped together, and so they strolled into the dark afternoon. The sky was painted deep blue. A few stores had reopened their doors, and although only a few people busied themselves to go out, it was a refreshing scene, to find anyone less than lost wandering through a lifeless city. The buildings surrounding them had some ivies covering some of the walls, most windows had darkened with dust and snow; some were broken. Filling the streets, a deep fog seemed to immerse the city in the cold; it was hard to see the buildings further than a couple blocks. Hiccup and Astrid could barely remember what London looked like before the killing curse.
"Where did you say the hunting was?" Astrid asked.
"There's one in the woods… and one going underground. You got your wand?"
"Always." She motioned to the middle of her coat, where her wand hid securely inside. "I vote for the underground. It's easier to scare them off there."
When they approached the Covent Garden Station, they found a group of roughly five young men, all sporting miscellaneous weapons from bows and arrows to knives and pistol guns. Every entrance to the Station displayed several yellow stripes written KEEP OUT – some of them cut in sections where the muggles would still sneak into the station; not unlike the ones they saw gathered in front of the building. Hiccup pulled Astrid to the edge of an alley, and they watched from afar.
"…is that everyone, Marcus?" They heard. The man named Marcus nodded once.
"Vince couldn't come tonight… Said he was sick or something."
"Sick my ass. He's prolly gon' scared." Another said, and they all laughed. "Bloody wizards… Maybe we ge' a head or two ter show off tonight."
"I heard there's also the biggest party going on in the woods right now," Another one spoke. "I think they might have already caught one."
"Where do ya get all this news? How come I never know what's goin' on?"
"We should go," Marcus said. "It's five to seven," They all nodded and branded their weapons, rushing towards the underground entrance, shutting the railing gates behind them.
When the last muggles were out of sight, Hiccup's fingers gave a light squeeze on Astrid's. "Let's go." He muttered, and they launched themselves towards the station.
Flicking her wand, Astrid gestured to the closed gate, "Aperio Sectum!" She muttered, grabbing Hiccup by his wrist and pulling him into the gate – and the boy imagined they would clash the iron with a deafening clank when he realised they had not felt the gates at all, rather as if they had walked through smoke.
"Nice." He said.
Inside the building, they saw how the place was covered with dead leaves, crystals and shards – entire displays of glass were shattered by angry protesters who stormed into the station; entire sections of the ceiling had collapsed due to the mustiness. For a moment, Hiccup thought that would be the perfect scenario for a gory horror movie. As the two neared the platform, the boy took his wand from his sleeve silently, holding it tightly. "Homenum Revellium." He whispered, and in a second, every last man present on the station became visible – their blurry shapes highlighted in red colours. It was as if Hiccup and Astrid could feel them through the walls, walking through the platform one level beneath, wielding their weapons. They still hadn't seen the duo.
"Abbafiato!" Astrid casted, and soon she could see the confused movements from the witch-hunters.
"Watch out! I think they're here!" They heard, but soon stifled their laughter as the hunters kept on screaming:
"I can't hear you!"
"I said they're here!" They tried screaming louder, and soon enough they were in a choir of shouts and yells, trying to listen and be heard simultaneously.
The two wizards descended the stairs with lowered heads, watching for any movement they could perceive. Astrid pointed her wand to the nearing lamps which blinked on and off with the low-running electricity. "Reducto!" The lamp exploded metres above the hunter's heads, setting them off on a terrified frenzy. That's when a man rushed in front of them, missing the boys in his poor aim with his pistol when Hiccup aimed a jinx, "Tarantallegra!"
The man's legs began shaking uncontrollably until his body began forcefully twisting into a twisted dance. "WHAT THE DEVILS ARE YOU DOING?!" Another man shouted walking up to his dancing companion, slapping his face with his fists – which did not at all diminish his dancing.
"Immobilus!" Astrid casted, and the second man became as immovable, a breathing statue.
"What-happened to ya?!" The dancing one cried. Hiccup and Astrid muffled their laughter with their hands.
"Let's get out," She whispered in the mid of her laughing fit. As they sneaked back up, Hiccup made one final effort to scare the men senseless by jinxing the staircase – so when the first hunter tried rushing it upwards, the steps flattened and skipped around his feet, merging into a slide. As a final addition, Astrid hexed whatever light was left in the platform, immersing the hunters in darkness.
Skipping and snickering, the pair ran back to the entrance, the goofiest smiles plastered on their faces as they looked down to the highlighted shapes of the hunters, the revelio charm showing they still tried to escape the jinxed station. "Oh, that was great." Hiccup laughed joyfully as they stepped back out onto the street.
"It was…" Astrid smiled, wiping a tear. "Thank you." She said, her hand never leaving Hiccup's grip.
"You're welcome." He replied, stopping in front of her, leaning in for a feather-light kiss. It was in moments like these when both teens really admired each other's presence. And for a moment, they had forgotten everything else; the adrenaline of their adventure pushing away every depressing thought, as if the nature of what they had done wasn't at all noteworthy.
And then came the ruffling - the echoing sound of steps on concrete. "Look what we have here," An old voice said, belonging to an old man. "Still got their wands, boys."
Soon, there weren't just one, but ten different men surrounding them on the corner; their hands carrying all types of weapons. Hunters, Hiccup assumed.
There was a loud crack and the chilling sound of a bullet cutting the air in two; Hiccup had just yanked Astrid's hand, pulling her into the twisting portal of their apparition when his vision sank in red.
Watching from high above in the tower, a male wizards stood completely silent, immersed in the shadows with his long dark coat, his face hidden from light under the large hood on his head. His eyes scanned the street several metres below - Oxford Street stending kilometres further so he could see the roof of the abandoned Covent Garden station. He scanned even further - to the witch hunters who stepped into the station, and then to the amateurs who gathered at the gate up front, and to the pair of wizards who followed them. And his curiosity peaked, his wand tightly gripped in his hands, when not five minutes later - and what he assumed what had been both terrifying and amusing minutes, the two wizards returned, hands linked, conspiring smiles on their faces.
For a moment, the vigilante felt a strange sense of familiarity. He was about to apparate to them when the unexpected occured: all around their block, ten men stepped out of the alleys and corners surrounding the pair of wizards; there were guns and arms raised, the beginning of a scream, and then a loud crack - an explosion of smoke shaking the street, and when it faded into the wind, the wizards were gone - a mark of blood on the floor they stood.
"It's no use," He heard the hunters. "We keep losing them."
"But now we know we can hurt them." Another spoke, bending over the scarlett puddle. "Sound the alarm… Let everyone know… The hunt begins."
