(notes at the end of the chapter)

Quick Note: it's been awhile, but hey, I'm back. I hope you enjoy - the siege.

Chapter 10

in the hell of the wilds

Daphne

An insurgence wasn't as easy to plan as Daphne had thought. There were so many variables, so many 'what ifs' they just didn't have answers for, too many questions over what might happen. Unknowns piled high, little pockets of uncertainty creating hollows in her head.

They spent long nights planning. Sitting by candlelight at the long table. By the fire. In the study. They spent long days training and discussing possibilities. Working through spells, enchantments, rituals.

Daphne, at one point, had to leave to fix the library. Unable to stew over the same problems over and over again she dove head first into the enchantments all over again. And, through mostly brute force of will, she untangled and reconstructed the enchantments, from the ground up. She laughed in the library's face… well, if it had one, she laughed at it as she slowly destroyed the unruly thing. Creating order where there had been none.

It gave her… control. A gift amongst the doubt.

Fixing the library's enchantments also provided them with better resources, as now each request would bring appropriate books back to them. No longer having to slog through ancient cuneiform or demotic script just to find a simple answer.

And after it all, after all of the time spent, they still ended up here, riddled all over again with uncertainty.

And like all well-intentioned plans, it all fell apart.

It was physical, like a blow to the chest, bruised ribs. Seeing Astoria again.

And Daphne froze, much to her embarrassment really. Fallen had been working with her on her magic. He'd picked up enchanting frightfully fast. He always was so adept with his wand, casting magic easily, effortlessly bringing all into effect. When he asked her to show him the basics of enchanting, he'd struggled at first. Perhaps she wasn't the best of teachers. Explaining the whys of enchanting were out of her wheelhouse. Growing up with enchanting as just "the way of things" doesn't encourage in depth thought into the whys. It just was. There was no reason she ever had to consider why it was. But she managed her way through it and guided Fallen through the basics of enchanting.

"It's about the weave of magic, Harry. You are forcing something into being. You're wrapping your magic around it. Encouraging. Expressing. You know what you want. Now you spin that out," she explained, pressing out a few simple runes, writing the enchantment out into the air between them. Fingers deftly moving. Announcing each rune as she rote.

"Ah, En, Isa." A simple truthsayer spell.

Teaching now, she got into the swing of things. "I personally prefer any proto-latin runes. Strength in casting comes from universal expression. Some form of the script is still used today. It was used as a writing system for thousands of years. That much reinforcement, that much use ingrains it into the fabric of our shared social consciousness. Giving it strength. Each time someone uses it, thinks about it, writes with it, studies it, it gets stronger and stronger."

Her enchantment was in effect. She spoke the truth effortlessly. She knew it was true too, that was the beauty of the spell. It wove in an orange circle around the room, sparking with each word she spoke. It wouldn't last long, but it was beautiful as it did.

He took to it easily. Which, of course he did. He shrugged at her annoyed look. "Death speaks in ancient tongues. They come naturally. I've known old English for a long time. This isn't a stretch."

Then he taught her some basics of combat. Since The Fall, there had been little need for any sort of training. Why would that be included when she had been bound to grow up forever within the confines of one estate or another? Or, looking back, never grow up at all. She scowled at the thought. What had her parents been planning?

He taught her how to stand, how to move even whilst casting, how to combine runes into expressions to shorten casting time. Enchanting wasn't a quick form of magic, built more for withstanding than for the quickness of live combat. But in no time at all, Harry created a simple construction of words and phrases into ready to cast spells.

"Enhaychet." It sounded stupid. It wasn't even real runic form. It wasn't even the right pronunciation. But as soon as he said it, it just worked. She had watched in a form of disbelief, awe, as he etched all three runes at once, and the enchantment spiralled out, spilling from his fingertips in golden light, speeding, spell-like, across the room to wrap the lamp he'd been aiming at in glowing bonds.

He'd laughed.

One of the first times she'd ever heard him so joyous.

It was much easier to create an enchantment, he told her, than to invent a new spell. No arithmancy or arithmetic needed.

But even for all of his teachings and all of the training, she now froze. Standing like a deer in spell-light. Stuck on the spot.

Daphne had been torn wretched over Astoria. She'd been bloodied the last time they saw her. The image of her glowing under the beam of sunlight, angelic and soft, was burned into Daphne's mind. Set there at the forefront. She saw her every night when she lay in bed, trying to sleep. The deep red scars on her chest. Ached and physical. She felt. She felt it all.

But now. Astoria. She was here.

Among the acolytes. Laughing. Working with them. Smiling and chatting with the others.

What.

Daphne's brain felt stuck. Stuttering. Unable to accept what she saw.

Astoria

Create. Build.

Work simple expressions.

Listen. Lecture.

Grow into the branch.

Blossom. Unfold.

The beacon of En Cael.

Purpose. Matter.

Surrounded with cause: enact and enforce.

Day. Night.

Sleep now. Sleep now. Sleep now.

Daphne

Is this it? The hell of the Out There? Were all of her parents' warnings true?

Why had she ever left the manor? Why had she ever thought this was a good choice? If she'd stayed, maybe she could have saved Astoria from this fate. Maybe she could have protected her. Why had she ever just assumed Astoria was dead? Why hadn't she stayed? Why hadn't she looked for proof?

Fallen was talking. His voice low and rumbling behind her. His hand hot upon her shoulder. Whatever comfort he was trying to provide wasn't enough. Nothing could fix this.

Astoria, working with the devil himself. It was the dissonance of the action. Her sister would never. The sister she knew. Her Astoria.

Everything was dark, as if she stared at her sister and the Dark Lord illuminated far down the end of a long tunnel.

He stood there, far too tall. Grey and terrible. Pale as stone. Face cracked like bone. Bloodied fingers stretched too long clutching at Astoria, possessive and needy. He wore a terrible grin. And as if he knew Daphne was there watching, he was full of gloat and vile mirth. Taunting. Horrible.

The light in the small copse they stood in dimmed and sputtered.

"Daphne!" Fallen's voice cracked in her ear, whip-sharp, finally snapping her out of her single-minded focus.

Her breath was ragged in her chest, burning her throat with the frosty air. Blackness hovered at the edge of her vision.

Fallen stooped down next to her, down to her level, talking low. Soothing.

She didn't need this. She wasn't weak. She wasn't weak. She wasn't weak.

"I know you aren't weak, little star. We're here for a reason. We knew this was a possibility. But we're here for her, for Astoria. For Astoria."

She hadn't realised she spoke aloud.

This couldn't go on.

The tunnel returned. Darker than before. All light focusing directly on Astoria.

Like an arrow let fly, Daphne dashed from the woods, her throat aching, a scream echoing behind her, dark orange enchantments streaming from her fingers. Fallen left behind, gaping, hands hovering uselessly in front, halfway towards reaching for her.

Harry

He stood in the small copse, vainly reaching towards Daphne's fleeing form, agape.

He had not expected this.

She rushed, like a vengeful spirit, a bright blot in the darkness. He didn't know what she was doing, but through her wrath, all light pulled like gravity towards her, gloom and shadow encurtaining the world around her. It was as if she leached it all from the space around her, collecting it until she glowed as a bright star among the grey acolytes hid amongst the murkiness.

Astoria and the Dark Lord looked around, startled, as the world around them went dark.

They looked startled as Daphne barrelled down upon them, screaming and screeching, ribbons of golden spells spiralling out from her hands, bleeding away into bursts of enchantment, spinning out and wrapping around the stunned acolytes. They toppled over like fallen trees, writhing in their amber bonds.

The Dark Lord's face split apart into a wide grin as he spun to face Daphne, pushing Astoria behind himself in one smooth swoop.

No!

Harry burst into action, flying down in a run, clawed feet gouging deep furrows into the forest floor as he sprinted out into the clearing. The field, full of fallen logs and goldenrod before, was now cleared and packed with buildings, ranging in size and purpose. They clustered around a large hall in the centre of the large field, with only a few buildings scattered here at the edge.

One burst into flames behind the Dark Lord, Daphne ducking behind a range of old stumps as Motineni cackled and spun spellrope above his head like a whip, snapping it across the space between Daphne and him.

Harry ran faster through the darkness, all the sunlight was long gone, clustered and shimmering around Daphne.

Screaming still, Daphne stood like a white glowing angel, arms spinning, shaping great runes before her. The air shook, shock waves billowing out from her etchings.

He marvelled, even through his fear over her safety, at the power she commanded. The enchantment took and echoed, visible concussive force pounding towards the Dark Lord.

Motineni flung red-tinged light vertically in front of him, splitting the waves around him and Astoria, like a rock splitting waters. But on either side of him, buildings fell, crushed under the force, erupting in a violent burst of splinters.

Yells and shouts rang out from the shadows behind the two, violence agonizing at the acolytes caught in the impact path. They fell screaming to the ground, pierced and punctured with large slivers of wood. Bleeding and howling.

This was not the plan. This was not the plan!

The ridges of his wand dug into his palm, hand clenched tight, white-knuckled around it. He skidded down beside Daphne, casting as he fell. He flung binding, furrowing, and gouging spells out at the Dark Lord, enjoying the shock on his face. Harry nearly laughed. This juvenile Dark Lord didn't know what he'd awoken. He had no idea what he faced now. Harry doubted he'd ever seen a wand-cast spell before, but Motineni responded surprisingly quickly, ripping the ground in front of him upwards, several of the spells bursting against it, throwing dirt and sod into the air.

It had been so long since Harry had been in battle. Far few had dared confront him in his growing power. He relished the feeling, the adrenaline, the rush of fervour.

A mass of grey-robed acolytes swarmed into the circle of light Daphne gave off. She still glowed like a small star, her face screwed up into a foul scream, spitting. She'd gone over. Fully. And he wasn't sure how to bring her back. So he just turned back to the fight, blasting the gathered followers with spells.

There were too many, however, they just kept on coming. The Dark Lord reflected and returned every bit of enchantment Daphne could cast. His silver halo glimmering and echoing in the dark with a light of its own. Whatever ritual he'd done to create the foul thing, it worked well, sparking silver lightning out to intercept stray spells, in a frustrating defence.

Daphne was growing careless in her madness, frustration clearly building as their siege had little effect upon the Dark Lord's forces. In a burst of energy she jumped over the barrier of logs they were hiding behind and ran towards Motineni and her sister.

"No!" Harry shouted after her, reaching for her too late as she sprang out of his grasp. She toppled, almost immediately, underneath a dark red enchantment, spinning like a blade across the field.

Harry howled as Daphne spun, a gash bursting across her chest, a burst of dark blood spray.

Her light dimmed, sputtered, went out.

And the darkness fled the field, sunlight bursting back out, shattering like lightning across a dark sky.

There was an unnatural lull in the fighting as everyone gathered shielded their eyes, stunned under the sudden light.

This had gone on long enough! Harry pulled off the dark crown. Dropping it heavy and draping onto the ground. Holding his hand out in front of himself, he spun the Ring around his finger three times and spoke a dark command:

"Render."

The spirits giggled at that.

Manic.

Wild.

And Harry smiled a terrible smile.

The spirits tore through the crowd. Murky green waters turned red. Grey robes ripped and slashed. Howling acolytes toppling like wheat to the scythe.

The Dark Lord stared around, eyes wide, shocked, he'd likely never seen anything like this. There were powers in this world that no man might know about. Harry's glee sputtered as Motineni spun toward Astoria, reaching for her.

He couldn't let him flee with her! Who knows if they'd ever be able to find her again.

The spirits went grabbing and yanking. They tore the girl from Motineni's clutch, flinging her like a rag doll across the field at Harry. And the Dark Lord glowered and gnashed his teeth, screaming in frustration as the piling growing hands of the spirits fell, descending upon him.

And there was a bang.

And the Dark Lord disappeared. Cracking away.

Silence fell on the field, punctuated only dimly by the ripping of hands, by the muffled screams of dying acolytes.

But Harry turned away, ignoring it all to pick up Astoria and Daphne. Time to leave this place.

AN - well, here is the action we've been teasing at for a while now. I hope y'all enjoy this chapter. I haven't been writing much lately. But I would love to get back to it. Unfortunately, life just gets in the way sometimes.

Anyways, let me know your thoughts! It was fun working out how enchanting/spell-casting might look similar and different in a battle like situation. I tried to impart the feelings of both Harry and Daphne as well, they both were rather unprepared for what this might actually look like. But I hope it's a learning experience for them. An opportunity to figure out a better approach. But hey, through it all, they still achieved their goal! Astoria is out of Motineni's clutches. I wonder how she'll be away from him now? What's her mind going to be like? Why was she working for him? Why did she have the Deathly Hallows carved on her chest?

I wonder what's going on with Daphne as well, she really snapped there didn't she?