Author's Note: I wrote "Alpha and Omega" to be a standalone, but I've had the opportunity to expand on it and write from Herpo's POV, which I thought was interesting. This was written for the Magical Creatures challenge.
Prompts:
dementor
(word) obscurity
(poem) "Remembrance" by Emily Bronte
(word) eternal
(word) safe
(sentence) Darkness descended upon him, and he knew everything would change.
It was always meant to be this way. Where there is Life, there must also be Death.
.
She was withering, a fragile flower about to be plucked too soon from life. Herpo took her hand, more bone than anything else, and gave her a reassuring smile. He didn't want her to see that this was killing him, too. It was a Muggle malady, of all things, and he was helpless to do anything but watch as it leeched her life.
"I wouldn't be mad, you know." Her voice was little more than a whisper, and it rattled like death.
"Hush, Delphi. Save your strength."
It was obvious that it took all of her energy just to speak. She didn't seem very long for this world, but Herpo didn't want to think about that. It was true love, the sort that some required Amortentia to even pretend at, and he was lucky to have ever found it. But he couldn't live without her. Not anymore.
Delphinium waved off his concern, the stubborn witch she was.
"You should find another. Remarry."
"Never."
The thought alone was absurd. He had pledged forever and meant it now just as much as he had twenty years ago when they were first wed. She was his everything, and if death parted them, then it wouldn't be for long. They were always meant to be together.
"You deserve to be happy."
"I am happy, my flower. I have you. Forever."
A ghost of a smile played across her lips as she closed her eyes. Her face was ghostly and gray, and he waited, planted in that spot, for her sunken eyes to flutter back open. They never did.
Sometime in the night, Herpo could have sworn he saw Death steal in quietly. For just a moment, in the corner of the room, the shadows seemed to take on a life of their own. He couldn't decide, though, if Death had really come all this way or if it was a mere trick of the moonlight.
...oOo...
From the obscurity of the trees, Herpo saw Death approach. There was nothing to do; there was no way to avoid Death. This wasn't the first time he had seen the familiar shifting of shadows and gathering of darkness. Besides, he was no longer a young wizard, either, and he wasn't as afraid of the unknown as he had been in his youth.
"Do you know who I am?"
The voice was deep and hoarse and rattled in the same manner that Delphinium's had at the end. The sound of it made his heart ache as the memories overwhelmed him.
"Yes. Have you come for me?"
"Not yet. If you do as I say, there will be no need for me to seek you out. Ever."
"Do you mean..."
"Freedom from Death. Immortality."
No, that was impossible. Herpo was no spring chicken, and he wouldn't be done in by some charlatan on a whim to trick a fool of a wizard. Still, Death didn't exactly seem the type, and if anyone could grant an eternal life, he was the one being. Herpo had no reason at all to trust him.
"Why? Why me?"
"I owe you no explanations."
Here Death was handing him a get-out-of-dying pass. Even if he didn't act on it, even if he didn't fully believe it, Herpo figured that the least he could do was hear him out. What did he have to lose?
"What would you have me do?"
"Where death is meant to occur, death will always occur. Therefore, you will have to kill another. If you do so, you can break off a piece of your soul and place it in an object. I can't collect a soul that's not whole."
"And the consequences of that?"
"Could be vast. No one's done it before. I'm here only to present the option. The decision is yours."
In his parting words, Death proffered a spell and brief instructions, and then dissipated back into the forest before Herpo had a chance to make a decision. The risks were endless. No one had attempted let alone achieved something of this magnitude. And for what? To avoid death? It was a byproduct of life, everyone knew that. Was it worth trading his soul for the chance to live safe from Death?
...oOo...
Herpo wandered, bottle in hand. Drinking was a horrible vice to have, but it made him feel invincible, and it was what he needed at that time. He took the small, dirt road away from town, leaving tracks as he dragged his feet. Half a mile away, Delphinium lay in her eternal slumber. It was like she was calling to him, even now.
The concept of eternal life was appealing, but was it worth everything he had to give up? He would be forsaking Delphinium, who was waiting for him in the afterlife. His parents, his siblings. He would turn away from everyone in the hopes of avoiding meeting Death for a third and final time.
Herpo had spent decades chasing after the idea of following Delphinium. Hours were spent by her grave contemplating the bliss of joining her, of seeing her again, of holding her. There was only one way to achieve that.
He had reached the familiar gravestone and took a long swig of Firewhiskey. He was so numb that he could no longer feel it burn on the way down nor warm his gut. That meant it was working at least.
As he studied the inscription, Herpo realized that somewhere along the line, something had changed. He wasn't the young man he had been back then, and the image he thought of most often when remembering Delphinium was not of her youth when she was vivacious and lively but of her laying in bed after years of fighting, only to lose in the end. The illness had all but ruined them financially, and she had spent so long suffering before finally succumbing.
No, he couldn't go through that. The idea terrified him more than anything, more than an undying life, more than living without his wife, more than shearing off a portion of his soul. He was no longer the powerful, ambitious wizard of his youth, but neither was he a drooling, old dolt. He refused to let Death take him. Not if there was another way.
"I'm sorry, my flower. Please forgive me," Herpo whispered as he ran his hand against the rough, weather-worn stone. "But something's come up. It seems I won't be joining you after all."
...oOo...
Herpo took his time and worked through the due diligence to find his target. He was simply a town drunkard who fought too often and worked too little to be of any real use to anyone, and his family had long since given up on waiting for him to sober up. What was the harm?
Herpo lured him into the woods outside of town with the promise of alcohol. In a flash of green, he killed him, and then turned his wand to his soon-to-be horcrux, the common, leather hat off his head. He whispered the spell that Death had taught him, and then he was surrounded by hot, white light, and his body was on fire.
It was like his innards were ripping, a blazing, red knife tearing through his insides and hacking away pieces. Herpo couldn't breathe, gasping for air and finding nothing but waves of pain shriveling his lungs and pressing against his chest. Something in him was breaking, of that he was sure, and if he survived this ordeal, if he managed to make it through, what then?
His legs gave out, and the ground rushed up to greet him, cold dirt caking against his cheeks. Darkness descended upon him, and he knew everything would change.
...oOo...
He was still alive, yes, but something was missing. Herpo knew it at first, but then he forgot to care. It was small to start with, the slightest bubble of glee when a child skinned their knee, the occasional cackle shed at others' misfortune. The human condition was fascinating, and Herpo felt both a part of it and removed from it, like a common observer studying ants under a magnifying glass.
Then the experiments started. The townsfolk didn't notice at first. It was innocent, really. It all began with a smile, something he seemed to have forgotten how to do. It was social etiquette to smile back, that much he knew, but when the elderly neighbor had smiled at him, Herpo had found himself unable to return the gesture. There wasn't a single reason in the world he could come up with to smile.
But it didn't stop there. He had forgotten what it felt to love. Every evening, he visited a familiar tombstone to read the inscription:
Delphinium
Strong Roots
Leave Behind
Strong Seeds
Always Remembered
The words were supposed to mean something, he was sure of it, but they had become little more than letters conveniently arranged to form a message. There was no sentimentality there, no thought, no memories. He knew Delphinium somehow, as if he had heard it once in a dream that was lost to morning's light. Every evening, Herpo mourned for what he couldn't remember.
...oOo...
He was broken. That was the only logical conclusion. Something was missing inside him that made him like the others, and Herpo coveted it. He sought it in silent footsteps and shady plans as he crept through the night, slipping between houses. They were happy! But how did they do it? He could smell it, like a sweet nectar, staining their auras, this intangible, unintelligible concept. He both hated it and loved it in equal measure.
If he couldn't have it naturally, then there was only one conclusion: he'd take it. Slipping through a window, Herpo made his way into the bedroom. He didn't know the woman's name and couldn't care less. He could smell the lovely aroma of her memories, and it almost made his mouth water at the idea. It was like a drug. No, better than a drug, because the effects lasted days, sometimes weeks.
Her chest rose in slow, rhythmic cycles as she breathed, likely locked in some fantasy concocted by an overactive imagination. What was it they called it? Oh yes, dreaming. Had he ever dreamed? Herpo couldn't recall. He closed the distance between them, stopping until their lips were inches apart, and he breathed her in.
It was intoxicating, the rush he felt, like his body was filled with a sudden warmth. It was the most amazing feeling, like floating on the clouds and drinking in the sunlight. Everything turned golden and silver at the same time, and his insides warmed as his skin cooled. They always tasted different, each life he drank, depending on the person. This one was cool and tangy with a sweet aftertaste. One of the nicer ones.
When he was finished, Herpo slipped back out the window he entered in, leaving no trace that he had ever been there, nothing that would cause anyone to suspect foul play.
The town woke every morning afflicted by the strangest malady. Otherwise normal, happy folks became mere shells of humans by the morning, as if all the life had been sucked out of them. News of it spread like wildfire across Europe, and Muggles and wizards alike lived in fear of catching the mysterious plague.
...oOo...
On a lone island, somewhere in an ocean lost in time, Herpo prowled the shores waiting for the occasional shipwrecked human—Muggle or wizard, it mattered not—to wander onto his shore.
This was his punishment. He understood that much. Death had come for him a third time, despite his meddling attempt to prevent it, and stole him away to some island. He wasn't sure where and when it was, but Herpo didn't much care, either. He had long since forfeited his emotions. His only regret was that there was no happiness to be absorbed there, no others to feed off of.
The sun had long ago began to eat away at his parchment-thin skin, so he cloaked himself in a black robe. How many centuries had passed since then? The fabric itself had started to wear, clinging to what was left of his frame in wisps of cloth, dangling in his wake as he paced back and forth.
When would the next come? Not soon enough. Never soon enough. Once they set foot on his shore, they never left. They were the key to it all. They must be. If he could just find a way, he could harness their happiness, their joy, their warmth—all the things that made them human. Even if for a fleeting, magnificent moment, he could feel what it was like to live again.
His days were filled with nothing but rotting, withering, festering. Even though his body couldn't die, Herpo wasn't quite alive anymore, either. So he had turned to others to make him whole. One by one, they sacrificed the sliver of life they had to drive back death for just a moment longer. Just one more breath of life, one more gasp of happiness, one more kiss to feed his eternal life.
.
It was never meant to be this way. Where there is death, there can never be life.