August 16, 1990
When she woke up, paradoxically, the first thing she felt was deep exhaustion—not just in her body but in her soul. And yet, she did not want to sleep.
She moved, and an overwhelming weakness spread throughout her body. With great effort, she sat up in bed and looked around, confused. She remembered nothing. She examined the room, the furniture around her, and the soft light gently illuminating the space as she shook off the heaviness of sleep. The light grew a bit brighter, and she recognized the room with it.
"This is Father's briefcase," she thought, even more confused. It had been many years since she had been there, not after their last family trip. Father died shortly after that, and Selene decided to store the briefcase wherever the Thornwoods kept their things.
She continued to look around, trying to decipher what had happened and why she was there when she noticed the boy lying motionless on one of the pieces of furniture. She couldn't see his face; half of it was hidden by the cushion, and the light didn't help, but she was sure she hadn't seen him before.
She got up, and her legs trembled. The simple movement had exhausted her immensely. She took a moment to recover and began to walk. She wore a strange gown and was sure she had nothing on underneath.
"What is going on?" she wondered. The last thing she remembered was...
"Eamon!" she exclaimed, starting to search frantically for her brother's little son. She didn't see him. He wasn't on the bed or any of the furniture. Her movements were heavy, but she paid no attention as worry flooded her. She approached the young man cautiously, thinking he might have answers.
As she got closer, she tripped over a white, almost pink wand, nearly slipping but managing to regain her balance just in time. Relieved to find a wand, she picked it up and pointed it at the mysterious figure.
"Incarcerous," she thought, trying to cast the spell. Tiny sparks flew from the wand and nothing more. The spell had failed.
"Maybe I'm weaker than I thought," she said to herself. She tried again, this time pronouncing the incantation and performing the wand movements, but nothing happened. Instead of the ropes, she expected to appear and bind the figure.
Frustrated, she tried other spells and got the same result. Finally, she poked the young man with the wand, trying to wake him, but he did not move.
She got closer, trying to shake and call him, but despite the noise and her efforts, he didn't seem to wake up. For a moment, she thought he wasn't asleep, but she dismissed any other thought upon seeing that he was breathing.
"I don't have time for this; I must find Eamon and see if the others are..." She didn't finish that thought. She knew her family, and they were powerful. Indeed, everything had passed, and they were fine.
She climbed the stairs toward the white mist, recognizing the entrance to the briefcase. Her father used to check the surroundings through that mist, but without knowing the enchantment and with the wand in her hand that did not respond to her, she would have to go out and see what she found.
She opened the briefcase and finished climbing, only to be horrified by the sight. Her house, the place where they had taken her in and she had found a family, was in ruins. The facade showed fire marks, the windows were broken, and the main entrance was destroyed.
Lysandra remembered clearly how it was before. The robust and majestic walls were now covered in vines and cracks. The main hall, once a place for family gatherings and parties, was now a shadow of its former self. Once adorned with murals and paintings, the walls were stained and faded. The heavy velvet curtains that hung elegantly were now charred and in tatters. However, strangely, some areas seemed untouched by the destruction, like the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, intact and shining, in contrast with the hole in the roof letting sunlight through.
Despite the state of destruction, the place was curiously clean, with no accumulated dust, which made the scene even more disconcerting.
The statue of Stella, the family's deer, still stood in its place, unyielding despite the time and destruction around it. She approached the statue, remembering the days when she used to caress its marble surface, now seeking solace desperately.
She couldn't help but shed tears of sorrow for the deplorable state of her home. No one would have left the mansion in this sorry state unless everyone was... She didn't want to think about that possibility, though her mind inevitably led her there. Only Stella remained, slightly bowing as if feeling the loss.
She ran her hand over the marble in an attempt to console herself. Despite not sharing the blood or the name, the Thornwoods were her family, and she was part of them.
She lost track of time, not knowing how long she had spent in that empty hall with only a statue for comfort, when she heard footsteps approaching. Before she could even turn around, she felt the wand she was holding weakly fly out of her hand.
She turned and saw the young man emerging from the briefcase, now holding the wand in his hand. He had dark hair, brown eyes, a slender figure, and was tall for his apparent age, around 5.1 feet tall. Detailing his face, she was stunned. "Alaric?" she said almost in a whisper. He looked so much like her brother when they were young, but not entirely. The delicate features reminded her of Freya.
The boy smiled before responding. "That's my father's name, a handsome guy, no doubt, but my name is Eamon. A pleasure," he said with an almost practiced naturalness. "Though I think we already know each other."
Lysandra was speechless, and all she could do was hug him tightly.
July 13, 1980
The laughter and giggles of little Eamon seemed like the sweetest thing in the world. Like a conductor, small flowers floated in the air as she moved them near and far from the little baby who tried to catch them with his tiny hand. The room was decorated in sky-blue tones, with a crib in one corner, a rocking chair by the window, and an enchanted wooden owl just above the crib, keeping a watchful eye on the baby's movements. The wooden floor was covered with soft rugs that cushioned steps and falls.
Eamon was learning to walk, and though he wobbled and lost balance, he didn't let that stop him from trying to catch all the flowers Lysandra conjured. She sighed contentedly; caring for her brother's son was one of her favorite moments. After returning from her travels and completing her studies, she didn't quite know what to do with her life. She didn't have the passion necessary to research the mysteries of magic full-time, though she enjoyed learning new things.
Her family didn't care what she did as long as she was happy. She had doubted if the Thornwoods would allow her to continue staying with them, but she had been foolish to doubt. Serafina had scolded her greatly for thinking otherwise; after all, she was her daughter even though she wasn't her blood. Alaric and Freya shared that sentiment. Whether she stayed or found a goal outside those walls, she would always be welcome, and she couldn't be more grateful for that. With the addition of the new and adorable family member, she was inclined to stay.
Suddenly, small fireworks flew from the room's door towards where they were and put on a little show, leaving young Eamon awestruck. Lysandra couldn't help but laugh. "Aunt Selene always with her spectacular entrances," she said between laughs.
Lysandra turned her head towards the door just in time to see Selene enter with a playful smile on her face.
"Happy birthday, Eamon!" Selene exclaimed, throwing a few more sparks into the air that exploded into tiny golden stars.
Little Eamon clapped with enthusiasm, his eyes shining. Selene approached and bent down to kiss him on the forehead while Lysandra stood up and hugged her aunt.
"I'm glad to see you back, Aunt Selene," Lysandra said with a smile. "Eamon and I were enjoying a quiet time."
"Oh, I couldn't miss my favorite nephew's birthday!" Selene replied, returning the hug.
"I thought I was your favorite niece," Lysandra said, crossing her arms.
"But this little one came along, and you moved to second place," Selene said with a laugh. "Don't pout," she added with a mischievous smile. "I brought special gifts from my travels."
Selene left a couple of packages on the floor and began to unwrap one of them, revealing an enchanted toy that immediately started to float and move around the room, catching Eamon's attention. The little boy clapped with excitement as he tried to follow the toy with his eyes, laughing each time it made an unexpected movement.
Selene smiled, watching with satisfaction as Eamon was entertained. Then, she turned to Lysandra and handed her the second package. "And this is for you, dear."
Lysandra took the package, feeling a mix of curiosity and excitement. She carefully unwrapped it, revealing a silver bracelet with intricate engravings. She looked at it closely, noticing small crystals that seemed to glow with their own light.
"It's a magical bonding bracelet," Selene explained. "The crystals change color according to your mood and can also project small protection spells in times of need."
Lysandra put it on her wrist, fascinated to see the crystals glowing with a soft blue hue, reflecting her calm and happiness at that moment. "It's beautiful, Aunt Selene. Thank you so much."
Selene smiled and hugged Lysandra again. "I'm glad you like it. I wanted you to have something special from my travels."
The sound of hurried footsteps in the hallway caught the attention of both women. Freya, a woman of serene beauty with delicate features, appeared at the door. Her tanned skin contrasted with the white dress she wore, and her dark hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders. Her eyes, usually warm and full of life, were now filled with worry.
"Have you seen Alaric?" she asked, her voice filled with anxiety. "He left this morning and hasn't returned yet. Dinner is almost ready, and I wanted him to be here for Eamon's birthday."
"I saw him heading to Diagon Alley," Lysandra replied. "He probably stopped to buy something special. You know how he is, always wanting to make everything perfect."
"Yes, but he should have returned by now," Freya murmured, biting her lip. "I hope nothing is wrong."
Selene placed a reassuring hand on Freya's shoulder. "Don't worry, Freya. Alaric is responsible. I'm sure he'll be here soon."
Selene's words seemed to calm Freya, though the worry did not entirely leave her face. The three women exchanged looks, sharing a moment of uncertainty before Freya took a deep breath and smiled.
"Alright," she said finally. "Let's enjoy the afternoon and celebrate Eamon's birthday."
The hours passed with laughter and games, but as night approached, the concern over Alaric's absence grew again.
In the midst of that worry, Serafina, Alaric's mother, appeared. She was an older woman, but her presence radiated warmth and love. Although Serafina seemed older than Selene, everyone knew her aunt had been born in the late 18th century. In contrast, with her 90 years, Serafina carried her years with grace, but they certainly showed.
"Hasn't Alaric returned yet?" Serafina asked, her voice soft but firm. She entered the room with a worried expression.
"No, Mother," Freya replied, trying to stay calm. "We're sure he'll be here soon."
Serafina nodded, though the worry didn't leave her face. She often remembered the sadness that had marked her expression during the early years after Julian's death. The loss of her husband had left a deep mark, and the stress had taken a toll on her health, though she always strove to maintain a positive attitude for the sake of her family.
"Let's get everything ready for dinner," Serafina suggested, trying to distract everyone's minds and keep spirits up. "Alaric will be here soon, I'm sure."
The four women headed to the kitchen and dining room, starting the final preparations for the celebration. The table was decorated with care, and Eamon's favorite dishes were ready to be served. Eamon, unaware of the adults' worry, played with his new enchanted toy in his room, constantly watched by the wooden owl with its big, attentive eyes.
Just as the sun set, the front door opened, and Alaric entered, but something about his behavior wasn't quite right.
"Alaric, where have you been?" Freya exclaimed, followed by the others to the living room. "We were about to start dinner without you."
Alaric didn't respond. He walked straight to Stella's statue and touched it. 'That's strange,' Lysandra thought. She knew there was something underneath, but only a Thornwood by blood could enter, and apparently, there were other requirements she didn't remember from her father's history lessons. Selene frowned, noticing her nephew's strange behavior.
Before anyone could say anything more, Alaric disappeared, seemingly absorbed by the statue.
"Something's not right," Selene murmured, her voice trembling with a mix of concern and alarm. Her eyes remained fixed on the statue of Stella where Alaric had disappeared, and she seemed about to follow him when she suddenly stopped.
"The house's protections... they're being deactivated," Selene said, panic rising in her voice.
A tense silence filled the room. Suddenly, a deafening roar shook the mansion. The front door was blown to pieces, sending splinters and wood fragments everywhere. Through the smoke and dust emerged a tall, slender figure. His presence was imposing, emanating an aura of imminent danger.
He wore an elegant black coat that floated around him as if it had a life of its own. A top hat sat arrogantly on his head. His hair, almost white as snow with black streaks, contrasted violently with his eyes. They were the yellowest eyes they had ever seen, glowing with cold malice. Despite his hair, his face showed a perplexing youth, no more than forty years old.
Time seemed to stop as everyone in the room processed the threat before them. Selene felt a chill run down her spine upon recognizing the intruder. His name escaped her lips in a horrified whisper.
"Osric."
Osric smiled, a cruel and disdainful grin barely hiding his sadism. His voice echoed in the room, laden with icy sarcasm.
"What a joy to see you here, Sel," Osric said, stepping forward with a wicked smile. "You've certainly aged well."
Selene raised her wand and opened her arms to protect the others behind her. "Come on, Sel, is this the welcome I get after so long?" Osric continued mockingly. "Little Alaric told me about the family reunion. Surely, you forgot my invitation in good faith, so I decided to show up."
Selene stood firm, her gaze full of determination, but she couldn't hide the slight hint of fear. "How are you here? You're supposed to be banished. You're supposed to be dead!"
Osric let out a laugh, the sound cold and devoid of joy. "Dead, banished, those are just details, dear Selene."
Alaric seemed to emerge from the deer statue, positioning himself next to Osric. "Ah, Julian's spawn decides to join the party. What do you say, little Alaric? Should we finish this?"
Alaric's expression was utterly blank, and for a brief moment, Lysandra thought she saw his eyes entirely black before returning to normal.
Without a word, Alaric pointed his wand at his own family while Freya desperately pleaded for explanations.
Suddenly, Osric waved his wand, and the shadows throughout the mansion began to lengthen and darken. From the darkness emerged small bodies, childlike in appearance, but their skeletal form and cloudy white eyes dispelled any illusion that they were alive. They were Inferi. With this, Osric and Alaric attacked.
Osric cast a dark spell that twisted in the air like a black snake, heading straight for the family. Selene quickly raised her wand, conjuring an ethereal blue dome around them. The barrier shone intensely, protecting them from the initial attacks. However, Osric's spell was faster. The dark snake pierced through the dome before it was completed, striking Serafina's side with a horrific sound.
Serafina let out a heart-wrenching scream as she fell to the ground. The impact of the spell left her writhing on the floor, her eyes turning purple in seconds. A black, viscous liquid began to ooze from her mouth, nose, and ears as if her own body was disintegrating from within. The agony on her face was evident, her hands clawing at the floor, desperately trying to cling to life.
Freya ran to her, her hands trembling as she tried to cast every healing spell she knew. But nothing worked. The black liquid continued to flow, and Serafina let out a final gasp, a wet, bubbling sound, before her eyes fixed on a distant point, lifeless. Her body lay still, a grotesque shadow of the strong and loving woman she had been.
Freya sobbed, her tears falling onto Serafina's inert body. But there was no time to mourn the loss. The Inferi were pounding on the dome, climbing over each other, their claws scratching the magical barrier in an attempt to get in. The situation was desperate, and every second counted.
With rage and pain etched on her face, Selene raised her wand and waved it above her head in circular motions. In a firm and resonant voice, she exclaimed, "Ignitex!"
The ethereal blue dome she had conjured instantly transformed into a tornado of flames surrounding the family. The fiery whirlwind expanded, burning everything in its path. The undead creatures writhed and screamed as they were consumed by the fire, their skeletal bodies disintegrating into ashes.
Selene continued to wave her wand, rapidly expanding the tornado and directing it. The flames danced and roared, creating an impenetrable wall of heat and destruction around the family. The Inferi, though endless, were incinerated on the spot whenever they tried to breach the fire barrier.
But Osric, with a cold and calculated look, raised his wand and, with a simple gesture, split the tornado of flames. The fire barrier dissipated into a wave of dark energy, leaving the family vulnerable again.
Chaos erupted as the Inferi, now free from the fire barrier, began advancing toward the family once more.
"Go, find Eamon, and get out of here! I'll handle this," Selene ordered firmly, waving her wand to keep the Inferi at bay. Freya nodded, her face a mix of determination and anguish, but Lysandra remained frozen.
"I won't leave you alone," Lysandra protested, her voice trembling with emotion.
Selene looked at her with intensity, her eyes reflecting a mix of love and urgency. "Lysandra, you have to help Freya get to Eamon. Trust me, we will reunite after I knock some sense into my foolish nephew and deal with Osric."
Lysandra hesitated for a moment but then nodded, knowing Selene was right. "Take care," she said, and with one last glance, she turned to follow Freya.
The two women ran toward the stairs, but before they could reach them, they were interrupted by a spell cast by Alaric. A beam of yellow light struck near them, causing the ground to tremble and fragments of stone to fly in all directions.
"Alaric, please! Stop!" Freya cried, her voice filled with desperation. But Alaric's vacant, cold gaze showed no recognition. He continued to cast spells in their direction without mercy.
Seeing the imminent danger, Selene waved her wand, and the ground beneath Alaric and Osric transformed into a viscous mass that pulled them toward the center of the room. With a swift motion, she summoned a flock of magical crows that emerged from her wand, attacking the intruders with their beaks and claws.
"Freya, your son is upstairs; go now!" Selene shouted, not taking her eyes off her enemies. "I've got this under control."
Freya and Lysandra exchanged a look and hurried toward the stairs. However, the Inferi continued to emerge from the shadows, blocking their path. Lysandra conjured bursts of fire, clearing the way with explosions of heat and light that incinerated the undead creatures.
As they advanced, Lysandra couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for the Inferi, many of whom seemed to have been children before their transformation into monsters. But there was no time for compassion.
Lysandra glanced briefly back at Selene. Her aunt was fiercely battling Alaric and Osric, while the Inferi seemed to have concentrated on Freya and her. The shadows swirled around Selene, but she stood her ground, casting spells with impressive precision and strength.
Alaric and Osric freed themselves from the transfigured ground, apparating out of the spell's range. With a fluid wand gesture, Osric shattered all the windows, directing a stream of broken glass toward Selene. Selene cast a spell toward Alaric without missing a beat, trapping him in vines that emerged from the ground, immobilizing his wand. With a quick movement, Selene shielded herself from the stream of glass, transforming it into butterflies that fluttered around, completely obscuring Osric and Alaric's vision.
Taking advantage of the cover, Selene began a long incantation, her voice resonating with power as she moved her wand in intricate patterns. Lysandra felt a mix of admiration and despair; she knew Selene was fighting with everything she had.
"Come on, Lysandra! Don't stop!" Freya shouted, pulling her out of her thoughts. Freya whispered an incantation and curved swords appeared out of nowhere, starting to cut and tear through the Inferi and blocking their path. With another spell, the swords burst into flames, clearing the way as they went. Together, Freya and Lysandra advanced toward the stairs, their determination unwavering.
The flames from Freya's swords illuminated the hallway, casting dancing shadows on the walls as the Inferi fell around them. Lysandra conjured more bursts of fire, incinerating the creatures that stood in their way. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of burning flesh, but they pressed on, driven by the need to reach Eamon.
Just before reaching the long corridor leading to the room, they glimpsed the battle unfolding below in the hall. The people and animals who normally resided in the portraits on the walls seemed to have come to life outside their frames, frantically attacking Osric. The hall was filled with chaotic energy, with Selene's spells lighting up the space in intermittent light flashes.
Selene was near Alaric, who was still restrained by the vines. With precise movements, she extracted black smoke from Alaric's body, a process that seemed to require all her concentration and strength. Selene's face was tense, her lips moving rapidly as she recited a complex incantation.
It was the last thing Lysandra saw of her aunt before they continued down the corridor. Freya and Lysandra advanced with determination, their wands ready as they prepared for any other danger that might arise.
The corridor was dark, illuminated only by the flames of Freya's swords. The air was heavy with tension, and the sound of the battle faded as they delved deeper into the mansion. Each step echoed, making their hearts beat faster.
When they reached the door to Eamon's room, Lysandra quickly opened it and rushed in.
Lysandra stepped ahead and entered the room when a gurgling sound cut through the air like a knife. She turned her head just in time to see Freya, her face pale with pain, as a giant wooden stake emerged from the floor, impaling her side to side. Blood erupted in a crimson explosion, splattering the floor and walls. Freya tried to scream but could only manage a choked, bubbly sound as her life quickly ebbed away.
The sight was terrifying. Freya, a figure of grace and strength, now hung limp on the stake, her eyes wide with disbelief and terror. The sound of her labored breathing mixed with the constant drip of her blood on the floor.
In the hallway, a figure with glowing yellow eyes emerged from the shadows: Osric. His dark presence filled the space, and his cold laughter echoed like the harbinger of death he had just delivered.
With her heart pounding, Lysandra lunged for Eamon, determined to protect him. But before she could touch him, a dark purple spell struck her with force, slamming her against the wall. Pain spread through her body, and darkness threatened to engulf her.
Osric approached, his wand raised and ready to finish her off. "It seems you chose the wrong side, dear," he said with an icy voice. "This is your end."
With a last effort, Lysandra reached through the bars of the crib and managed to touch Eamon, whispering the Thornwood family motto with her final breath of strength. Realizing something was about to happen, Osric hastily cast a spell, but it was too late. Lysandra and Eamon had already vanished.
They reappeared on the outskirts of the village, Lysandra staggering under the weight of the spell and extreme exhaustion. She felt every fiber of her being crying out for rest, but she knew she couldn't stop.
Lysandra, carrying Eamon, advanced slowly toward the St. Elias orphanage. Each step was a monumental effort; her legs felt like lead, and her vision blurred. The darkness of the night closed in around her, broken only by the faint light of the village lampposts.
The red building of the orphanage loomed in the distance, a blurry silhouette through her tired eyes. She felt her heartbeat echoing in her ears, the echo of her heavy, labored breathing. Osric's words still echoed in her mind, cold and ruthless.
Reaching the orphanage steps, her strength gave out. She knelt, gasping, shielding the small Eamon with her body. With one last effort, she stood once more, her legs trembling under the weight of her exhaustion. She climbed the steps, each step a battle against the unconsciousness threatening to consume her.
Finally, she reached the orphanage door. With her last strength, she placed Eamon on the threshold, wrapped in the blanket bearing his name and birthdate. She felt her body giving way and fell forward, her arms outstretched to protect the baby.
As her vision darkened, she heard the faint sounds of the door opening and worried voices. And with that, she knew no more.
August 16, 1990
Lysandra and Eamon sat in the clearing, the night sky dotted with stars. Tears streamed down her face as she recounted that fateful night. She had hesitated to reveal the events, overwhelmed by the emotion of seeing her nephew again. Her memory was fragmented and confused, but he had shared his story first. He told her how he had grown up in the orphanage, discovered her existence, and learned from the portraits of his ancestors beneath the statue of Stella. Those portraits had educated him and given him the knowledge needed to help her, and finally, he had been the one to wake her up.
Despite his youthful appearance, Eamon demonstrated the maturity of a man. She had no excuse to hide the truth when he asked about that night. As she spoke, her memory returned, and the pain of the loss surged powerfully. Between sobs, she managed to tell her story. When she finished, he hugged her, trying to comfort her. Though weak, it didn't stop her from hugging her nephew back.
The emotions began to calm, and taking deep breaths to steady herself, she asked, "And now what? What is your plan?"
With a determined look, Eamon opened the briefcase and, with a brief "Accio," caught some potion bottles. One contained a bright green liquid, and the other a thick orange substance. "Wiggenweld potion and a nutrition potion. All of it down," he said, handing her the bottles. "This should speed up your recovery."
She took the potions and felt the heaviness lift from her body, and the weakness slowly dissipated. "Thank you, but you know what I mean," she said, looking at her nephew with a mix of gratitude and expectation.
He gazed toward the clearing in the direction of the ruins of their home. He spent a moment in silence, contemplating his response before finally speaking, his voice firm but filled with resolve. "Now? I will make sure that whoever came after us is dead."
A/N: This chapter is a bit longer than usual, and it was quite challenging to write, so I hope you like it. I welcome any critiques, comments, or questions you may have.