Chapter 25 - Antithesis
It was warm. Quiet. There was air around her, swirling past her skin, moving, yet without rustling her hair. It was comforting. She would have sat down and sighed, but didn't really feel like doing anything at the moment, so she didn't bother. There, orange flicker. And over there. Why did wizards use gas lamps anyway? Couldn't they just... use magic lights? She did it all the time, it seemed so much more convenient. She watched the dancing flames for a moment, a bit miffed at their uselessness. Although they did make a nice color, she supposed.
The girl took a breath. Uhh, that felt funny, her nose hairs tickling against her skin- Which way had she breathed again?
"Such a waste," came a voice. She found the source, right in front of her, staring with deep blue eyes. Were his eyes always that blue? They looked so... pretty. No, don't close them!
His head lolled forwards for a moment, and the eyes came back. But- where was the blue? That deep shade of Indigo? This dull light blue was by far not as pretty... He opened his mouth again to speak. To her? Probably not, not all that important anyway.
"M-master? What do I do? What about her?" he spoke, but with a very different voice. She had preferred the other one.
"She is under my control now!" came a raspy voice that seemed to come from nowhere at all. And she was. She didn't know who the voice was, or why she couldn't see him, but she knew what he had said was the truth, so she nodded.
"I-I don't understand, m-master! I thought the plan was to-"
"I had to cut the plan short due to your incompetence," the second voice hissed.
The man in front of her stumbled and bowed. Was he bowing to her? That would be kind of funny. No, he was bowing to him, as he should. His incompetence had caused the curse to take hold, as Quirrell obviously wasn't 'at least as qualified as him to teach Defense'. She frowned. All that time he had spent teaching the students to the best of his abilities, in order to avoid the Defense curse, all for nothing. She'd be furious too, if it was her.
"F-forgive me master!"
"You are not the one to blame. That accursed werewolf took me by surprise, using Dumbledore's tricks no less..."
It always came back to Dumbledore, didn't it? He had thought himself so clever when he had cast that curse—just the perfect wording to spite Dumbledore in proving that there wasn't anyone better than him for the job—what a fit of youthful arrogance.
Her ponderings about the curse were kind of interesting, but so was the one part of the bookshelf, that had half its books missing. Why only that one particular shelf? Were there books somewhere that would fit neatly into that slot?
But now that she thought about it, the upside had been that Dumbledore had shown him his little trick, and he had been able to use it to cast an Unforgivable despite not being able to summon Darkness in his current state. She blinked. How did she know that? She wasn't sure, but she knew it was the truth. Just like she knew that she was now completely under his control.
"Even if I could have found a way for this to work... They would have needed at least another year. A year we do not have."
Yeah, he didn't. Due to the curse, he had until the end of the year at the latest now, thanks to Quirrell's incompetence. And he would have needed at least another year in order for them to trust him enough that they might place their lives into his hands, or at least voluntarily open their minds. She could have proved useful—potentially even another vessel. That sucked, she'd have loved to see that. The Imperius was nice and all, but it had too many downsides for long term use.
The man was now quivering on the ground. This was getting kind of boring, wasn't there- oh. Why was there a harp in the corner of the room? That hadn't been there before.
"Now stop asking questions! Quit your incessant stuttering and get going. Dumbledore will only be gone for so long."
The idiot scrambled to his feet and turned to look at her. "W-what about her?"
"She'll be... insurance. Come along, girl." That, she was. Apparently, she wasn't going to live through this anyway, she'd know too much due to the connection. But that was fine, she'd do her best to be useful in the meanwhile. Now if only the nameless voice would just shut up for a moment...
Eagerly, she took a step to follow her Defense professor, who was scrambling towards the door, shrank down the harp and pocketed it. Interesting things were happening, and she was all for it. The soles of her shoes pressing against her feet, she ran behind him. Whoa, that felt funny. Did walking always feel like that? But she shouldn't think about that now, she was supposed to follow. She'd be insurance. Whatever that meant. She couldn't wait.
They passed along portraits and statues and suits of armors and things. All very interesting, but not as interesting as what she was supposed to do. She really wanted to know more. But nobody had asked her opinion, so she followed along quietly, gazing at all the shiny things. They entered a new corridor, and one suit of armor turned in their direction and flinched, got up from where it had been petting a brown cat, and returned to pretending to be inanimate. The cat was staring her down, and she wanted to pet it. But she had no time for that right now.
They finally made their way to a familiar door. Now this was getting interesting! Glancing up at it, she wondered what they were about to do. Wasn't there still the dog inside? Could she pet it too? Or maybe not, it was a bit too big for that. Her Defense professor looked around the corridor, then withdrew his wand, and the door opened up. Iris had stopped to marvel at the doorway. She couldn't even see traces of cracks where the Cerberus had broken through it. From the corner of her eye, she saw Quirrell withdraw the shrunken harp, expand the instrument back to its original size, and levitate it inside the room. Then he performed a spell she didn't recognize and the harp started playing.
For a few seconds, there was nothing but the soothing tunes of the harp, and she swayed to the sound, tempted to close her eyes. Then, a ferocious growl, and she saw the three headed dog appear and tear into the harp, ruining the performance with the twang of broken strings. A terrified Quirrell dove out of the way and slammed the door back shut.
"M-master? I- I did as you asked, why isn't it working?"
There was no response for a while. Iris wondered what was supposed to have happened.
"I don't think the oaf was wrong..." the voice came again. That he wasn't. A Cerberus was just as much a mythological creature, as it was a magical one. And according to the myths, you were supposed to play music to them. That combined with what Hagrid had told him had to be the key. But then again, why didn't it work? They had to get past that beast into the trap door somehow, but it was immune to most spells.
Iris nodded along with her thoughts. She had experienced first hand how it would just shrug off any spell they had thrown at it. The only way to get past would have to be to play music to it. Or, she guessed, she could just go through the shadows. But he hadn't asked her opinion, so it wasn't needed.
Maybe, due to its magical nature, the problem was more of a ritualistic type? Iris perked up. Yeah, that made sense. If you were supposed to play music, you couldn't just use a charm to do it for you. Yes... the vexing school girl had probably been right again.
A few more moments passed with Iris pondering whether she should voice her thoughts, until the invisible man spoke up again.
"I suspect you will have to play yourself."
"I- M-Master? I can't! I... never learned..." stuttered the useless idiot. He'd love to Crucio him about right now, but sadly, he was still stuck in his body. Wait, he was in there? How did that work? That sounded... well like it would suck...
"What about you, girl?" the voice asked.
She just shook her head. "Sorry! I can't." Maybe she should just suggest to use the shadow realm? But he hadn't asked about that-
"Fine. I suspect if Dumbledore didn't notice the Imperius, he will definitely notice this, so we need to make haste."
Iris was confused for a second. Oh, he was talking about polarized magic? She could help with that! And she should, she realized. He needed her to summon it, so he could cast the spell. She gasped. That spell. The most powerful of all spells. She'd get to see it. That was bound to be awesome.
Eager to help, she stepped up, thought back to the Dursleys, and oh. Wait Dudley! Please! No, Harry, stay away!
Iris stumbled and came back to herself, recovering from the sudden flash of images. Shadows were warped around her, tinging the corridor in shades of black that should be impossible. She had never lost herself like that when thinking of them, what was going on? Shuddering, she took a step back, the shadows still lingering. Then, she realized that it hadn't been enough, so she steeled herself again, and- You stupid little girl! What have you done?
Harry!
Get over here, boy, I don't care if it wasn't you who did it, this is the only way she'll learn...
Iris hunched over and fell to her knees, gasping. She looked back up and... oh... the Indigo was back; the smirk was back.
The door opened up by itself, as the Darkness was being drawn inwards, as a sound of pure power rattled the room, growing deeper, reverberating through the corridor, as his wand started glowing and crackling in a bright mesmerizing Green. It swished in a jagged pattern and he spoke in a firm voice "Avada Kedavra!"
It was more magnificent than she could have imagined. Magic itself seemed to scream, to moan and bend under the words of power, as a pure command demanded the small price of a single life. It was Life. Life twisted by Darkness. The antithesis to the Life aspect. There was a rushing sound, which seemed to drown out anything else, and everything came to a halt for a fraction of a second.
The spell formed into a gigantic green arc of light, which exploded into the open doorway, and slammed into the Cerberus. She could somehow see the green glow of Death even through the solid stone walls. When it finally faded, she was met with darkness, every last torch snuffed into silence. Without looking, she knew that the Cerberus was dead, and there was nothing that would be bringing it back. The Command had been absolute; nothing would break it. Just like the Imperius.
Still breathing heavily, she followed Quirrell's glowing wand into the dark room. Obviously, she couldn't go first, he couldn't trust her to know what to do unless he told her. The fool hesitated shortly, but at another hiss from him finally jumped down the trapdoor. She stood around alone in the room for a moment, looking upon the motionless form of the giant dog. She wondered if she should still pet it.
Then, she realized that no, she was supposed to follow. So follow, she did, and jumped down the open hatch.
~V~
Harry gasped and stumbled as he walked. What in the world? Something, something had just- He'd felt such pain, such anger and sorrow, but why? He was alone in the common room, only Ron and Hermione by his side. Was it-
He looked down and his eyes found the bracelet. He had almost forgotten about that. Did that mean- Iris!
What had happened? Was she in trouble? Where was she?
"You alright there, mate?" queried Ron.
"I... No! It's Iris, I need to-" he broke off and slapped his face. He dove for the nearby table, sat down and pulled out the map. Furiously flipping through the pages, he fumbled with shaking hands until- There. Oh. Oh no! He knew that corridor! That was... what was she doing there? Was that the room with the Cerberus? And she's in there alone?
His breath hitched as he watched her walk towards the center of the room, and suddenly, her marker disappeared entirely. What? No! It... it couldn't be, could it? He hadn't felt anything else from the bracelet, he refused to believe that this meant what he thought it did. It just wasn't possible. It- hang on. Hadn't there been a trapdoor in the room? Right in the center? Right where she...
But he couldn't know, could he? No. He had to go and check, and he had to go and help her. He looked back up to see the determined expressions of Ron and Hermione.
"She's in the third floor, in the forbidden corridor. Or she was, she has disappeared. And something is wrong! I'm going after her," he declared, grabbing up the map and making for the door, only to be stopped by his friends.
"Let me go! I need to go!"
"And we're coming with you," declared Ron. Hermione squared her shoulders and nodded in agreement.
Harry saw that any argument was hopeless, so he just gratefully nodded, and with that, they were off. Out the common room and down the grand staircase they went, until they found themselves in a familiar corridor, panting heavily. However, the sight that awaited them was anything but.
The door stood open, and within it was the Cerberus. Even though he had seen it before, something was very different this time, very wrong. He took one glance at it and felt a sinking hunch in his gut. He wasn't just asleep. Carefully, they entered, step by step, and the giant dog gave no signs of life whatsoever. A part of him felt relief, but a much larger part of him felt worried. Terrified. What had happened? Who had done this? Had Iris seen it? Had she- No. She wouldn't do that.
Swallowing, he made his way over to the trapdoor.
"Shouldn't we go tell a professor?" asked Hermione hesitantly.
Harry had other ideas. "You go and get a teacher; I'm going after her."
"N-no. We're coming with you. S-she's saved my life too," declared Hermione, gathering her courage.
They shared another look, and then jumped down into the dark abyss.
What awaited them seemed to be a set of challenges, hurdles, or whatever, seemingly put up by the professors, probably in order to protect the stone. However, they seemed to prove surprisingly ineffective against first-years. Hermione saved them from a man-eating plant, Harry found and caught a flying key on a broom, and Ron sacrificed himself to get them past a giant chess board. Harry really hoped he was going to be okay. But for now, his sister came first. At last, the final riddle left them with just enough potion for one of them to pass through the flames, apparently someone else seemed to have already drunk some from the phial, hopefully Iris. Hermione promised one more time to take Ron to the infirmary and get help, and Harry swallowed the icy liquid and stepped through the flames.
What greeted him wasn't what he had expected. Well, Iris was there, off to the side, just kind of standing there with a silly smile, but the other occupant of the room had his attention. If anything, he would have expected Snape. But- Suddenly, everything clicked into place.
"You! So it was you! What have you done to her?"
Quirrell turned and gave him a look. "Potter... H-how did you-"
Harry paid the stuttering Defense teacher not much mind, as he made his way over to his sister.
"Iris! Are you okay? Did he... do anything?"
She smiled at him.
And it was wrong. So very wrong. She never smiled like that.
He blinked as he realized that her wand had come up, and it was pointing at him.
"Iris? What-"
His words got stuck in his throat as he noticed something else. She stumbled for a moment, and suddenly everything grew darker. She took a deep breath and looked back up, an expression of loathing on her face, causing him to flinch. Her wand came up again and seemed to draw the shadows in, until it lit up in a blue light, and she snarled, "Depulso!"
Harry felt himself flung backwards and impact the wall hard. Except the impact didn't stop. He felt as if a constant force was pushing him into the wall, pinning him in place, making it hard to breathe. What? Why had she- What had he done to her?
She lowered her wand, and stepped to the side, that silly smile returning to her face, and he noticed something else. Quirrell was doing something with his turban. What on earth? What was- WHAT
He had removed the piece of fabric, and underneath was something that defied reason. A second face, as ugly as one could imagine, implanted in the back of his head. It opened blazing red eyes, which seemed to peer right into his soul. Harry thought he wouldn't have been able to move a muscle, even if he hadn't been pinned to the wall.
"Harry Potter. The boy who lived. Yes, this might work."
"What did you do to her? Let her go!" Harry shouted in rage and fear.
"Harry, Harry, Harry. I'm afraid it's not that simple," the cold and terrible voice continued.
What was he doing? Why was this—whoever this was—in the back of Quirrell's head?
"W-who are you?"
The face laughed. "Oh, I'm sure you must have heard of me. Of everything but the name, I presume..."
What, not the name? Like their Defense teacher? No, he was right there, well on the other side... But who was-
Harry froze. There had been another. Another nameless person. And he somehow hadn't made the connection until now. But... He couldn't be, could he?
"Yes. I see my reputation precedes me," came the voice.
What? How did he know? Could he... read his mind somehow? Or had he just been that obvious?
"It's good you came, Harry, you see, I'm in a bit of a tough spot..."
Harry couldn't think. This was him! The one who had tried to kill them. Who had killed their parents. This was bad. And he had done something to Iris, to make her attack him... And he had been having detentions with her for the entire year! This was worse than bad!
"You know why I'm here, don't you?"
Harry gasped. The stone! He wanted the stone, to come back! To regain a body! He couldn't let that happen!
"Yes. You see, the stone is here, inside the mirror. But, annoyingly, it can only be retrieved by one who seeks not to use it. It seems Dumbledore's tricks are once again preventing me from getting what I want, and Quirrell can't get it for the same reasons. And as for her, well, she can't do it either, because she now wants what I want."
He took a step towards him, which looked eerily jerky as he was actually walking backwards, and Iris followed suit.
"You know what I want, Harry, and I want you to get it for me."
"Never! I'll never help you!" he shouted furiously.
Somehow, the face seemed to almost smile. "Harry... I don't think you quite realize the position you're in..."
Both Quirrell and Iris had approached him and were now standing in front of him, while he was still helplessly struggling against whatever spell he had made Iris use.
"You'll have to kill me then. I won't help you come back to life!" Harry snarled.
"Oh, no. I'm not going to kill you. And as much as I'd like to, I still need your sister for the moment. However..."
He paused, and his face grew into a smirk.
"...You should know..."
Suddenly Iris stumbled to the ground with a yell, and her whole body started shivering. In the same moment, all the shadows around her seemed to grow into an endless abyss, much darker and deeper than they had before, and he felt an irrational fear, this time not from the man before him, but from his own sister. That fear quickly turned as he saw the shadows being pulled in once again, but this time, not towards her.
A crackling sound of popping cartilage accompanied him wrenching up his wand arm high—in the wrong direction—as all the shadows were inexorably pulled towards the wand, and Harry braced himself for whatever he was about to do to him, but he refused to close his eyes.
"...There are fates worse than death, Harry."
The wand came down, and he hissed "Crucio!"
Thunder cracked with a blinding flash of red lightning, and there was a bloodcurdling scream.
A scream that was not his own.
"No! Iris!" Harry shouted in despair, as his sister fell to the ground, face twisted in agony, and her body lit up in color. Much like had happened when Malfoy had cursed her, her body was rapidly flickering in an iridescent light, bathing the room in seizure inducing flashes of color, except this time, it was much more erratic, much more blinding. He could feel it on his skin, something-
There was a sound of shattering glass, and suddenly he felt himself drop to the ground as whatever curse had been holding him in place failed. He scrambled forward towards his sister uselessly, his mind dissolving in panic and desperation as all he could hear were those screams.
Then, she suddenly stilled, and her light died down. He glanced up from her shivering form into the merciless red eyes of the man who had just lowered his wand. He didn't need to say anything, they both knew he had won. Harry got to shaking legs and stumbled forwards. Over to the mirror.
He needed to find the stone. He needed to get the stone, and give it to him, so his sister would be safe. So she wouldn't be hurting anymore. He had no idea if he would keep his word, but Harry knew, that if he did nothing, he would just continue. And he couldn't let that happen.
~V~
Existence was agony. Just a few moments ago, everything had seemed so simple, so happy, so interesting. She'd have loved to spend hours like that, no, days, but it was all torn asunder in a single instant, dissolving into unimaginable pain. She couldn't think, couldn't feel, couldn't exist. She just wanted it all to stop.
A part somewhere deep inside her realized that the pain had already stopped, but her brain simply hadn't really registered that fact. It was playing over and over in her mind again, a disjointed mess of screams and agony, leaving her unsure whether it was really over or not. She longed for that feeling of simplicity, of having someone else do the thinking for her, not having a care in the world.
But no matter how much she wished for it, the pain remained. The painful clarity grew instead of shrinking. Her mind struggling against itself, she wrenched open an eyelid. The sight that met her sent her thoughts into a turmoil for an entirely different reason.
Harry.
What had happened to him? He was looking like- well... Broken, was the only word she could come up with. The sight alone served to fill her newly acquired vision with tears. She should have just left them closed.
Iris watched as Harry stumbled over towards him, something clutched in his hand. What was that?
Then she remembered. About him. His plan, about the stone, and about them... who was them? Probably herself, but who else? Wait. The stone! Was that what-
Her eyes opened wide as she saw Harry throw another desperate look at her, and then raise his hand, holding a red stone. No!
He couldn't! He'd come back to life! She wanted to shout, tell him she was alright, not to do this, not even for her, but she couldn't. Her body simply refused to cooperate. Standing with his hand outstretched, he hesitated. His eyes flicked back and forth between her and him, the small stone innocently resting in his palm.
Just as she thought he would actually reconsider, his wand moved an inch towards her. Harry's eyes widened, and he swallowed and took one final step forwards, sealing their fate. He placed the stone into the man's waiting hand, stretched out the wrong way in front of him.
"Very good, Harry."
Her eyes fixed on the man in equal parts fear and fury. It was him. She had known, but she hadn't consciously realized the fact. He was the one who killed their parents. Who almost killed them. The nameless Dark Lord. He wasn't dead after all. And he was here to finish the job.
They were so utterly screwed. She remembered. His goals, his power, how he was apparently immortal. His thoughts still coursing through her mind in a blurry mess. She didn't have any memories to go with them, but everything he had thought, she had thought. And it was her thoughts—his thoughts—that scared her more than anything else. How could they ever hope to stand against such power? Such evil? They couldn't even think his name, because it was impossible. Even though she had mirrored his every thought, she still didn't know the name.
But then again, another impression had remained. Despite all his power, right now, he was weak. Whatever had happened, he was unable to use polarized magic, at least not without her, and he couldn't properly control Quirrell anymore, after whatever had happened with Lupin. But would that matter? No matter what they threw at him, he'd probably just shield it like he had in class. That golden shield, nothing ever seemed to have gotten through it. Or had it? No, that wasn't right. She remembered something, a stray thought about Lupin, and Dumbledore. Whatever they had done had broken his shield. Something... about polarized magic... Could that work?
At last, Iris felt feeling return to her limbs. She would only get one shot at this. Right now, he was turned away from her, gloating over Harry. Slowly, carefully, she felt around on the ground, until her fingers clasped around the familiar cold handle. She closed her eyes and focused. Usually she'd think of the Dursleys, but right now, she had only one person in mind she loathed above everyone else. The one who had killed their parents, who had used her to break Harry. She wouldn't let him get away with this.
The shadows yawned, plunging her into darkness, as her rage was forged into purpose. A shaky hand was raised, clutching the black stone, beginning to glow blue as the darkness was drawn into it. The man whirled around, his eyes widened, his wand came down, and a brilliant golden shield wrapped around him just in the nick of time.
"DEPULSO!"
Her spell formed, tore down the distance in a blink with an electric sound, until its tip met the shield. It seemed to freeze in place for a fraction of a second, soundlessly spinning in place, the blue glow at its tip growing brighter and brighter, until it finally impacted the shield with a resonating boom that she felt all the way down her spine. The spell came apart in an explosion of color—a circular shockwave bursting perpendicular from the point of impact—which caused the shield to crack and splinter and him to topple backwards.
Her moment of victory was short lived as he rolled on the ground, right back onto his feet, and his wand swung right at her. He flicked it in a short pattern, causing it to glow orange, and Iris frantically made to dodge, but couldn't move more than a few inches.
"Confringo!" he yelled, and she froze. Was that... an explosion curse? If he had aimed at the ground, it wouldn't even matter if she dodged.
However, what happened instead caused her to gasp. Harry dove right at him and wrenched his wand to the side, causing the spell to go wide, hitting the ceiling somewhere behind her. He snarled and kicked Harry to the ground, causing Iris to scream. Her scream had not been alone. The other face, Quirrell, had started screaming, as he raised the hand that Harry had just touched. The hand which was rapidly blackening and crumpling into dust, causing his wand to clatter to the ground and down the stairs. What? This was it! This was their chance!
The ugly face snarled, and he raised his other hand, still clutching the stone, and held it towards the rapidly decomposing stump, causing it to glow in a bright green. The petrification slowed, then stopped. No! She could see his hand quickly growing back—at this rate, he would have it back in seconds, and have his wand back—and they'd be dead for sure.
There had to be something she could do! Some spell she could cast to end this, something he couldn't block... or dodge...
And there was. She had never cast it, hadn't even known how, she had never even considered it. But she had borne witness to his thoughts when he had done it.
She had no idea if it would work, if she even could do it, but it was her only shot. Focusing on every ounce of rage, hate and fear she could muster, she pulled.
The red eyes turned to look into hers, and he froze. For a moment, she felt as if he was peering right into her soul. Then, without a word, he started running, this time forwards—away from them, his wand left behind on the ground, the still glowing stone clutched in his fist. Up the stairs, and through the flames, the ugly face glaring its angry red gaze at her the whole time.
Iris stood, swaying on her feet. Had... had they done it? Had they won?
They... No. They hadn't. He had the stone. He had won after all. Her legs felt weak, and she collapsed onto her knees, shivering. Harry came up next to her, and slung her arm over his shoulder.
"Are you okay?" came the inevitable query, to which she did not have an answer.
After a while, he said, "Come on, we have to get you to the hospital wing."
They made their way through the flames—luckily the potion still seemed to work—back towards the chess-set, and then the room with the flying keys, where Harry had an idea. He heaved them onto the rickety-looking broom, and slowly took off, flying down the corridor, up the trapdoor, and down the halls, up the stairs until he finally made it to the hospital wing. Setting them down gently, he once again held up Iris as they made their way over to a bed, only to be met with the frantic hospital matron running towards them.
"Potter? Again? What-" she paused, as she took in her shivering form, and cast a few spells at her. "Oh my. This cannot be," she mumbled to herself.
"Will she be okay?" Harry asked frantically, as she sagged into the sheets.
"I... Well, she was exposed to some very dark magic. But she seems to be still in one piece, so that is good. But she will definitely have to stay the night. What about you? Were you hurt as well, Mister Potter?"
"I... No, I'm fine, he only attacked her. I... I think..." he broke off, swayed for a moment, and then promptly threw up on the ground.
"Mister Potter!" she exclaimed, and hurried over to him. What was going on? He was right, he hadn't even been hit! Except for that one time he had been knocked to the ground, but he had gotten back up right after, and she didn't think he hit his head there, he had landed on his bum...
Harry heaved again, then swayed for a moment, and collapsed.
A/N: Well, here we are; we have reached the end of the first book. Although, since there are still several plot threads ongoing and there isn't a real cutoff point, this story is most likely going to continue as one massive single story, rather than several books. Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed so far, your feedback is greatly appreciated.
I have currently written ahead up to the half-way point of the second year, and plan on continuing at a similar pace, although I may or may not slow down at some point, so I'm not sure how long the weekly updates are going to continue, however I will aim to at least post one chapter every two weeks at the minimum.
In other news, if you find yourself wanting to discuss the story, there is now a subreddit for some reason: r/VeilWeaver. Feel free to drop by.