Chapter 28 is out! This one took a while to finish because Elden Ring came out, and what a game it is. It stole from me all the free time I had!
1. This chapter is some kind of interlude, with heavy doses of Ancient Times lore and a bit of its world-building. Some of it will be important for the upcoming chapters, and some will be important for those in the far future. Now, every scene is important and will be used as the story progresses; there is no filler here.
I hope you all enjoy it!
Scala ad Caelum
Chapter 28: Soul Sanctum
Ronald Weasley POV
For an entire minute, Ron had no idea about what to do. He stood there, in the middle of the beach, far enough from the waves so they couldn't impact with his feet, but close enough to get splashed by the drops of water as soon as they broke against the sand, carried by a soft, cold wind.
Gerd stood in front of him.
She wore the familiar white dress, the one which covered her entire body—tight on the sleeves and with some leather trousers under the skirt. Their eyes met for the first time in weeks. It was the moment when Ron realised her attire was the only thing about the Essentia he was used to. She looked stoic, her facial expression cold and tough as hardened steel.
No, the woman in front of him wasn't Gerd—she looked way too royal for that. This was Gerdnyaram, who spun his entire life around the moment she showed him those damned visions about the future, more than a year ago.
"You saved me," Ron repeated those words he had just heard, too lost in his trance to even think about anything else.
"I saved you," Gerdnyaram replied with a nod of her head. "The Basilisk was about to kill you and your friend, but I meddled before a tragedy could occur."
Then he remembered it all; Harry had been by his side! "Harry," Ron muttered. "What happened to him? Is he okay?"
"Yes, he is. However, unlike you, he has no place for his soul to wander around as his petrified body lies in the realm of the living. You two were petrified, that is all that happened."
He didn't care about the explanation. Harry was fine, and that was enough for him. Besides, he already had many things to worry about. Still, his whole body and mind felt too heavy to even think about life and death matters. All he wanted to do was to close his eyes and forget… To forget it all.
The words came out by themselves. "I was the Heir, wasn't I?" He asked aloud. His legs finally gave up, so the boy let his body fall down, taking a seat in the grey sand. It felt comfortable.
"You could say so," the Essentia sighed. "More like the puppet of the Heir, I would say." She paused to take a seat by his side, both of them staring at the endless sea of colourless water. "He used you for the last two attacks; the ones on the two girls. However, the first three attacks remain a mystery, from what I know."
Something about the explanation set him off—it was too precise. Gerdnyaram knew a lot.
A humourless snort came from Ron. "You already knew it back then, right?" He asked. "At least, you suspected it." He took a moment to look upwards, to the dark sky which really resembled the sea. "I should have realised it way sooner; it was too bloody opportune! What a great ally I found out of a sudden! One who knew a lot about the Heir and the events of the past!" The redhead shook his head in bewilderment. "How can I be so stupid?"
"Yes, you were," Gerdnyaram confirmed. There was no malice on the affirmation, it just was a statement. "However, you are not the main culprit here. You are too young and inexperienced; that makes you very easy to manipulate and control." Those words carried a second intention behind them, and they both knew it—she had just confirmed the fear Tom hammered into his head. Ron might have been a puppet for the Heir, but so he had been for Gerd. "I am the one to blame. I focused too much on other matters and deviated my attention from my main duty. I allowed that cursed item to take a hold of your soul, and by the time I realised, it was too late."
For an entire minute, the crashing of the waves was the only audible sound.
"What is Tom?" Ron finally broke the silence. He had many doubts in his head, but that one might have been the most prominent one. "You talk about him as if he was an item. But he... all the memories he showed me... They looked too real to be invented on the fly. And the events of his life, like what happened to Hagrid, took place fifty years ago."
Gerdnyaram let out a tired sigh; her royal features weren't so intimidating anymore. "I will tell you everything if you agree to one condition."
"Say it," Ron shrugged it off. Truth to be told, he didn't care about anything at that moment. He wanted answers. He wanted redemption for his acts. He wanted for all to end.
Gerd stood up from the ground, then she walked towards the sea until her two feet were under the water's level. "We must reforge a new alliance, this time, one shaped by trust and truths," she said. "For the sake of this world, there must not be any secrets between us. I have no problem admitting it, even before we met, in this very same place, I already was manipulating you; it is all I have done since the little spirit by the name of Gerd befriended you."
"I never trusted you to be strong enough to carry out our duty, so I told you lie after lie, I influenced every one of your actions as I deemed necessary," she went on. "Despite that, there was a little part of me that grew fond of you. I tried to suppress it, but I could not—I am only human, after all. I can't get rid of my emotions. That would turn me into a worse monster than I already am." She turned around to stare at his eyes. "Promise me you still have the will to move forward, and I will tell you all I know. This time, there will not be a single lie."
Instead of answering her, Ron threw another question at the woman. "Why me?" It only contained two words, but he didn't need more. It had been all he wanted to know for a long time. Why was he so important to an ancient being like her? The concept of being the hero who could save the Wizarding World had scared him to the death, but it had also excited him... How could it not? It was all he ever dreamed, to be a famous and respected hero. He wanted to be the best Weasley.
Feeble dreams, that's all they were.
Harry was a hero; the one who defeated the most powerful dark wizard in history. Albus Dumbledore was a hero; the paladin of light who inspired hope to the people, even in the darkest of the times. Now, who was him? A fool who got his mind poisoned by sweet lies. A fool who attacked two innocent muggle-borns. Ronald Weasley was an ordinary man, one who tried to reach way higher than he was destined to, and now it was time to pay the price.
Why was he so bloody important?
"Because you aren't special," Gerdnyaram answered. "Had I not intertwined in your destiny, you were meant to be an ordinary wizard. However, you were fated to be close to special people; always in the right time and place. That was all I needed. Someone important enough to take part in those events of the future I considered necessary, and yet, someone ordinary and disposable enough so those persons who could pose a threat to me, like Albus Dumbledore, could not interfere in my control over that individual. You were the perfect tool for me, Ronald Weasley."
Those words hurt. He would have loved to say they didn't, that he already expected it, but, even if that was true, it bloody hurt.
"How can I know you are being honest with me?" Ron asked. "You said it yourself: you never had a problem lying to me. If I agree to your condition, what's stopping you from doing it all over again? I might be an ordinary fool, and we are known to be able to trip twice on the same rock, but even I can reach my limit. After all, you really need me, right? Otherwise, you wouldn't ever use someone like me." He didn't even feel resented for it; he was too exhausted for that.
"We can't lie here," Gerdnyaram said. "To be honest, I do not know what this place really is, or how it came to exist, but I know it is the only place in which two persons can talk in full honestly in the entire world. Kayle liked to call it the Soul Sanctum, but we still named it Scala ad Caelum—it was too good of an opportunity to miss it." That last part came as an amused huff, but the boy ignored it. "Besides, I already tried hiding the truth from you, and I failed miserably; just as I failed in the past, when I tried to do it all by myself. If you agree to my proposal, we will start from the very beginning. You will know as much as you want from me, no lies this time. Until you accept, that is all I can say."
So, I can't lie here, eh? Ron tried, but much to his surprise, the lie he prepared didn't come out of his throat; it just couldn't!
"See?" Gerdnyaram raised a brow at him. "None of us can lie. So far, all I have told you is the truth—what I consider to be the truth, at least."
That was a very important remark, he could tell. So, she could lie to me if she believed it to be the truth. They could agree on a certain matter, like what were the limits of how much they were ready to sacrifice in order to stop a disaster, and the outcome would still be different from what he first thought, just because the world she saw wasn't the same as his. However, it was the only bit he needed to trust in her. It had been a really important piece of information, one she could have saved for herself, and yet she didn't.
A part of him still refused to believe in her, though.
Despite that, Ron knew how much was at stake. His family, the world... He wasn't a hero, he would never be one, but he had been granted the option to act. If he came to an agreement with Gerdnyaram, they could shape that new alliance she mentioned; one which allowed them to fulfil their respective objectives without sacrificing the other's ones.
The kind and lively Gerd was dead, he needed to hammer it into his head. Gerdnyaram was a different person, but she looked strong enough to fight for the two of them. All Ron needed to do was to speak up as soon as the Essentia tried to surpass the limits of their new contract. If they came to an agreement, they could save the world and those who deserved to live on it. He would need to get those whispers about being a hero out of his mind, but if he wasn't alone, if he could really trust in someone... He could fight to the end.
A Weasley never surrendered.
"Okay, let's do it," Ron agreed. "You and me, Gerdnyaram. No lies, no fake promises... I might be a fool, but... I can still see traces of Gerd in you. I considered her my best friend, you know? She would have both wanted and trusted me to make the right choice, the one I judged as so." Ron raised his eyes to meet her gaze. "Let's do it."
Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. The cold and weak wind was extinguished, and some feeble rays of sun appeared through the thick mass of clouds, too pallid to even warm the plaee
"Good," Gerdnyaram said. "As I promised, I will tell you all I know. Every doubt you have, I will answer it; if my knowledge allows me, of course." She spun her hand around, and with that simple gesture, a seat of water was created for her to sit on. "You better get comfortable; I can sense it is going to be a really long talk."
Ron felt good enough sitting on the sand, which wasn't as cold as it had been a minute ago. Okay, let's start. He had more than a hundred questions, and so, he started with the most basic one. "Who are you?" The boy started.
"I am Gerdnyaram, a witch born a few years after the War for the Dawn," she replied. "I was also known as Gerdnyaram, the Eye of the Future, the Great Seer, the Seventh Precursor or even Skysword. I grew up in a little village at the north edge of the Isle of Crete, in Greece, where I peacefully lived until the age of nine."
The ghostly woman snapped his fingers and the beach disappeared. The two of them remained seated, but around them, the scenery completely changed. A bunch of very tall and green trees were born as the cold sand was replaced by fresh grass; the smell poured into his nostrils, and he was left surprised at how real it felt. Between Gerdnyaram and him, some kind of shrine was formed; it looked to be made of white marble, just like the few stairs which led to the wooden lectern placed on top of it.
First, it was the voices that he heard, but in just a matter of seconds, the people they belonged to appeared in the clearing. Never in his life had Ron seen such a diverse group—there were people from many ethnic groups, some with their skin as dark as ebony, and others of fair skin and bright eyes. Yet they all wore the same white tunics, both women and men alike.
All except a few, who wore tunics of a red-blood tonality. They must be some important folks, the boy deducted. An old man, with a very large beard and tired eyes, stood behind the lectern with an old, black tome in his hands. Then, in front of the first stair of the shrine, two hooded figures, with red hoods over their heads, stood still as if they were guarding it.
The people started to mutter, but their blabbering didn't make any sense to him; he could not distinguish any word. "Here began my story," the voice of Gerdnyaram woke him up. She had disappeared from the clearing, but she sounded close. When Ron looked down, his feet were nowhere to be seen. This is a vision.
Finally, the priest's voice came to his ears. "Bring the demon girl," he announced with a voice that didn't leave room for any argument. The people wearing white tunics started to mutter again—some sounded worried, while others were there out of curiosity. Tragedy, unfair, justice and atrocity were some of the words he managed to catch.
The noise of footsteps made him turn around.
A large procession of people, organised in two parallel lines, all of them wearing red tunics and hoods, marched towards the shrine; in their way, everyone stood aside. There must had been more than sixteen individuals, but his attention was set on a little girl who walked at the centre of the double line.
She held her head high in the air, but there were traces of tears running down her cheeks. A laurel wreath sat atop of her head, embellishing her long, brown hair and the white tunic she wore. She had very sharp features, and yet no one would deny her beauty; especially her eyes, of a bright green that left Ron speechless.
The procession ended and the red tunics, as Ron named them, pushed the rest of the people aside, creating a large space in front of the shrine, which was occupied by the little girl.
The priest cleared his throat as his book was opened. "Today, we meet to bring justice to a demon of questionable origin," he exclaimed. "This spawn of hell, that adopted the appearance of a little girl, was abandoned at our village nine years ago. Some of our own adopted her, tricked by her innocent appearance. Oh, how wrong we were! How blind I was! It is my duty, as the priest of our Isle, to look over the lives of my people; yet I was tricked! This demon, baptised here as Gerdnyaram, has control over the Forbidden Power! She can see into the Future! One of the very few things which were prohibited to us, humans!"
The time suddenly stopped; proof of it was the frozen arms of the priest, which had been frenziedly gesticulating as he spoke. "In the past, muggles and wizards coexisted in certain colonies without the need for us to conceive our existence," the voice of Gerdnyaram explained. "However, as you just observed, we had a fair share of stupid traditions and beliefs. When I was born, I was blessed with the Great Sight; a feared power among us, humans. Maybe, that was the reason why my parents abandoned me when I was a baby, even though I did not manifest it until the age of eight. Anyhow, some muggles adopted me, and I lived a good life until the first vision came."
The explanation ended and the priest resumed talking. "It is my duty to put an end to this creature before the Gods and Magic could feel offended because of her!" The regular people, the non-cultists, started muttering—some even tried to step up, but they were quickly intercepted by a red tunic. One of the two guards who had stood in front of the shrine since the vision began made his way towards little Gerd; he pulled a sharp dagger out of its tunic, made of black metal and with a red pommel.
Her body took a few steps back, probably unconsciously, but she came to a halt. The girl proudly raised her eyes and stared right at her executioner. As the dagger rose over her neck, she closed her eyes.
However, from the thick trees, some double-handed axe came flying at extreme speed. It nailed on the wooden lectern, under the surprised eyes of the priest, who couldn't suppress a scared whimper. "Man, one can't have a single day without crazy bastards and their madness, eh?" A grave voice said. A tall man, his skin of a darker shade than Blaise's, got into the clearing from the north thicket.
He had a bald head and a very sturdy complexity; for a moment, Ron thought of him as a bear. He wasn't the most handsome man he had ever seen, to say something. His nose looked to have been broken a thousand times, and none of them must have healed well enough judging by how squashed it looked. Numerous scars ran through his face, but all of them ended above the mouth, where a very dense and short beard covered the bottom half of his face. The man wore some kind of leather armour over a white shirt and some black trousers; over all, there was a red cape with some strange symbol carved onto the shoulder pad.
"How dare you meddle into our ritual of sacrifice?" The priest shrieked as his face turned all red. "Now Gea herself will punish us thanks to what you did!"
The soldier with the dagger tried to slice Gerd's neck; the girl was too busy staring at the intruder to notice it. However, it was the cultist who suffered the consequences. With a strangled cry, he raised to the air as if pulled from an invisible rope. "I shit on whatever the hell your Gods say," the man cursed as he spat on the ground. His hand pointed at the floating cultist. "Why would I, a wizard, worry about their stupid laws and traditions? I bow to no one, geezer."
"I am a wizard, too!" The priest exclaimed. "Yet I don't consider myself to be above them!" He was about to continue the rambling, but a very menacing glare from the soldier made him shut up. "You and the rest of our kind will condemn our race," he ended up muttering as he made a signal with his hand. The bunch of cultists stepped away from Gerd. "You just wait and see how the world crumbles under our pride. It is just a matter of time."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," the soldier dismissed his comments. With a wave of his hand, the cultist with the dagger fell to the ground—he ran to meet his friends as soon as he recovered from the fall. Meanwhile, the sturdy man made his way towards Gerdnyaram, who looked at him with open and awed eyes. "By the way, why in the hell were you trying to sacrifice this little girl?" He turned to look at the priest. Out of a sudden, his axe appeared in his hand—it wasn't a subtle threat, but it certainly worked.
"She is a demon sent by Kronos," the cult leader replied. "She possesses the most forbidden power! No human should ever dare to look into the Future!"
That answer made the soldier laugh. "And you call yourself a wizard?" He let out a loud guffaw. "Please, how pathetic... This girl is a blessing to the magical race! She possesses the Great Sight!" He squatted to look at Gerd eye to eye. "Say, girl, do you want to come with me? Far and safe from these sick bastards who fear your power. I might not know much about kids, but I can feel how famished you are. There is plenty of nice food where I come from. You can have as much as you want, enough to fill your belly a hundred times!"
The vision ended there, and the familiar scenery of the beach returned. "That was my life," Gerdnyaram told him, her body visible once again. "And the man who saved me is Kadir, another member of the Order of the Precursors—a man who was also reborn as an Essentia and now roams the world in order to fulfil his own agenda. He will be important when discussing other matters later on."
Okay, that was way more than what I expected. So far, so good. It was time to move onto the next question. "You once showed me a certain vision in which you died, and then you told me that it was the day when our destinies were sealed," Ron continued. "Was it a fake vision? Or you were telling me the truth?"
"Those were the events which took place that day," the Essentia nodded. "I died at the hands of a friend and a person I respected, Herpo the Foul. Moreover, as soon as the vision ended, that day I erased the said name from your memory, even if you remembered all his actions and words. I came to know that, in the present, he was considered as the first dark wizard in history. I could not take such a risk; it would be so easy for you to randomly hear that name. I did not want you to start asking problematic questions."
"I see," Ron mumbled. He already knew what the next question was going to be. "If you died, how are you still here? You told me you were reborn as an Essentia, but what does that mean? How is that even possible?"
"Here, I can only tell you what I know," she replied. "It might not be true, but they are the conjectures I consider to be correct." She took a moment to think. "I am still here because I am a special person—because of the talents I was blessed with, but most importantly, because of the people I surrounded myself with. I know it does not make much sense, but it is what I have always believed; at least, the beginning of the story."
"What is an Essentia, you ask," she continued. "It is a term others like me invented, and due to the lack of my own ideas, I embraced it. Back in our first meeting, I told you we were beings made of pure magic, but that was a lie, partly. I believe for us to be a mixture of two key elements every single magical person has: a soul and a magical core—the first being more important than the latter. Now it is then the real mess comes."
"Herpo the Foul committed a sin," Gerd muttered in a much lower voice, yet he had no problem hearing it. "An atrocity I could not allow—not because of him and his intentions, but because of what others, those wizards and witches in the future could do with that knowledge. Truth to be told, that was a thought which came to my mind during the two thousand years of slumber I put on myself after I died by his hands. The day I confronted him, I was sure of my purpose: I was there to prevent the destruction of our world and society by his hands. Now I say to myself, had I not intervened, maybe our race would not have suffered such a blow. I like to think it was bound to happen either way, but it might be my soul asking for forgiveness."
"What do you mean?" Ron asked.
"One must not meddle with the Future unless there is no other option," she explained. "The way I tried to change what I saw in my visions was too much; it was not a simple change of the upcoming events, no, I tried to alter the fate of our race. As a result of my failure, our race almost perished that day. Herpo, the man around who this story pivots, had always believed that it would be us, the magical race, to destroy themselves thanks to our stupid individuality and pride. Not by the hands of the Nightmares or other magical creatures—we did not need them. Maybe I just accelerated those events."
He could feel how his head protested—it was a lot of information to take in, and not precisely a simple one. Yet he was immersed in the Essentia's explanations. "You have yet to answer my question," Ron reminded her with a soft voice. Those looked like some tough memories to remember.
"I am sorry," she sighed. "I have not talked about this in thousands of years, and it is now when I realise how much I needed it." She quickly snapped off that moment of weakness. "The reason why I am still alive... I believe it has nothing to do with me, in fact, I believe there only is one responsible: Herpo the Foul. The sin he committed, better said, the actions he realised to commit that sin, broke a lot of vows and promises to us, his friends and fellow members of the Order of the Precursors. Pay attention to these words, Ronald Weasley: Magic takes very seriously broken oaths. Because of it, since Herpo could not die due to other reasons, we were, somehow, linked to his soul; our anchor to this world. We were reduced to this state, very limited but still alive."
Bloody hell, what the fuck? He didn't know what to make of that, but another question was born in his mind. "How in the seven hells could Herpo not die?"
"I do not know yet," Gerdnyaram answered. "It was one of the things I hoped to find out in the present times, but I could not look into it as much as I wanted; for that I needed your help and collaboration, and it was a price I was not ready to pay. I only know he killed his wife to obtain his immortality and that I was not fast enough to stop it. Then I died and life continued. The other Precursors fought him and they all died, Herpo included—too much magical blood spilled for any side to win."
Out of nowhere, Ron felt a weird sensation; someone was around, even if he thought for that to be impossible. He looked around, but there was nothing out of place. The presence was gone as soon as it came.
"Do not worry about it," Gerdnyaram said in a bored tone. "Out of the four Essentias who were reborn, only one still roams Scala ad Caelum. Her name is Kayle. I told her to not meddle in this conversation, but curiosity must have gotten the best of her." He sent a quick look to the east, where he last felt the presence. "She tried to find me for centuries, just as I avoided her. But that changed the moment we had our..., argument. Then, I decided to come here and make my presence known. We settled all the matters we needed to, and agreed to not meddle into one another's plans; for we have the same objective, yet there are a few differences between us and why we want to archive them."
"And that is?" Ron asked, even though he was sure to know the answer.
"To stop Herpo the Foul," Gerdnyaram replied. "She also died fighting him; in fact, unlike me, she was able to finish him."
Ron opened his eyes in surprise. He will never forget the day those visions were shown to him, much less the fight between Herpo the Foul and Gerdnyaram—they were monsters, but not even Gerd had been able to beat him. If that witch by the name of Kayle came out victorious... He didn't want to think about it.
Still, if he had trouble trusting Gerdnyaram, it was even worse for that mysterious woman. "What are those differences you just talked about?"
"I want to stop Herpo and his Heir, the one your people call Lord Voldemort, to save our beautiful world before it could be destroyed by mankind's arrogance," she explained. "Kayle wants to stop Herpo because she thinks, and so I do, that it will bring rest to the two of us and our comrades, those who left this place long ago. As far as I know, she does not care about the present and Lord Voldemort."
There it was the forbidden name... If there wasn't enough shit on his plate, now Ron needed to worry about the man who fuelled some of his nightmares as a toddler. "Why there is such a close relationship between Herpo and You-Know-Who?"
"Call him by the name he uses to inspire fear, Ronald," Gerdnyaram sighed, she sounded a bit disappointed. "Otherwise, you will not ever be able to stand up to him, and you will need to do it; trust me." She raised a hand to stop his comments. "He isn't his Heir in a literal sense, or so I think. When I refer to him as that, it is because, like Herpo, he did not die when he should have. Now, it is true I do not know the circumstances in which he fell against a mere baby, but if people like Albus Dumbledore, who is much more affine to magic than I ever was, believed it, then I will trust their judgement. And that brings us to a much sombrer point—Voldemort avoided death that night, and there is only one way to accomplish that feat."
This time, Ron understood the relation and its foundations—it made a lot of sense, but it also terrified him. Since he first knew about His comeback, thanks to Gerd and her visions, the redhead thought that He didn't really die that night at Godric's Hollow, when He attacked Harry; something else happened, but to die there? No, if he was back, let it be in the form of a wrath of a shadow, it was because he had never been gone in the first place. He shut that idea down as soon as his body started to tremble—he would think about it later, but now it wasn't the best time to have his mind ruled by fear.
"A few minutes ago, you said your souls were linked to Herpo's and that you were anchored to this world," Ron reminded her. "It has to be the same for Him, don't you think? I mean, if they used the same method..., whatever the hellish atrocity you commented earlier... It has to be that, right?"
She nodded in response. "As far as I know, it is the same method. Now, do not ask me to come up with a very precise theory, because I do not even know about what Herpo did in the first place. How does someone anchor a soul to the realm of the living? I know a life needs to be sacrificed, since that was Kassandra's fate. When it happens, do people close to the sinner get affected? It happened in our case, but I would not turn that information into a statement without further evidence."
Ron nodded in response—Gerdnyaram had put a lot of emphasis in the terms such as anchor and link, his mind felt way better after grasping the general idea. It wasn't enough, not even close, but he felt much better about not being so in the dark anymore.
From behind, very close to his left ear, a voice whispered in a very melodic voice. "I can shed some light on that, if you want me to, of course." He turned back as fast as snitch, but there wasn't anyone. His eyes made the Essentia a silent question, but she ignored him; instead, her gaze was set at their right, in a little rock over the water.
There was another woman there.
"You couldn't resist," Gerdnyaram stated in a loud voice. She sounded tired, even a bit exasperated, but there was no anger in her voice despite the irked features in her face. Then she turned to look at the boy. "She is Kayle, another member of the Order of Precursors, a fellow Essentia, and one of my two masters."
The golden silhouette disappeared from the rock in a rain of sparks. She appeared in front of him, a few centimetres away from his face, with her back flexed to look at him eye to eye—she looked curious.
For a few seconds, Ron forgot how to breathe. He had known a fair amount of beautiful ladies in his life, but Kayle put them all to shame. In fact, her features were so delicate and gorgeous, that he couldn't find her attractive at all—it was too inhuman. Of fair hair, eyes and skin, gleaming with a subtle golden light and wearing a long, white tunic, which was embellished by some complex patterns of a green tonality that showed some kind of leafs and lianas, the woman raised a brow at him.
"So, this is the boy you choose to form a Link?" She asked Gerd. "I mean, quite an odd choice, in my opinion. But if it suits you for your purposes, then it is fine." She finally stood up—her scrutiny had made him sweat. "I couldn't help myself but to listen to your conversation. You must trust him a lot, for you told him much precious information."
Out of a sudden, what started as a conversation with him at its lead had completely turned around. The two Essentias were acting as if he didn't exist! "Hey, hey," Ron interrupted Gerdnyaram before she could speak. "What she just said about some Link... That can't possibly refer to what we were talking about, right? I mean, I'm all in to stop You-Know-Who and save my people, but I don't wanna be linked to anyone—much less if it means for me to end like you after I'm dead!"
"It doesn't," Kayle replied. At least, she looked at him this time. "Remember what she told you about me? That I'm the only one of us who still roams this place?" Ron nodded his head in response. "That's because I didn't form a Link with any human."
Ron sent her a confused look. "We are not supposed to leave this place, which, probably, was created for us," Gerdnyaram piped in. "I could spend four years in the regular world because I created a Link with you, back when we first met. That is the reason behind the strange connection we share—because of the Link, you can feel my presence as I can feel yours, we can share thoughts, and I can even lend you my magic and knowledge; which I didn't, because I don't know if that could cause any damage to you. As you can imagine, the other two Essentias, by the name of Kadir and Niklos, also did it; in their cases, many centuries ago and with dozens of people."
He could understand that. However, it raised another question in his head. "Why haven't you formed a Link?" Ron asked her. "I mean, being trapped in this world doesn't sound like a good idea."
"I have my reasons," that was all she said.
Okay, no more questions for you, lady. Ron turned to look at Gerdnyaram. "This lady said she could provide some pretty valuable information for us," he started. "You know her better than I do, but I think we should listen to her… If there's no problem between the two of you, of course." The two Essentias raised a brow at him.
Ron would have loved to be swallowed by the ground at that moment—at least, down there, he wouldn't need to feel as if two women were trying to stare into his soul.
"Yes, I would also love to hear what she knows," the blue Essentia nodded her head. "Those must be details you obtained after I died and before our society was destroyed, right?"
Kayle took a seat in the sand, by the side of Ron and in front of Gerd, who was still seated atop of his water throne. "Some of them were, but others were learned in the recent past," Kayle began as she toyed with a bit of sand between her hands; she let it fall like that of a sandglass would. "There was a ritual needed to archieve immortality, one Herpo himself created—the cost of one innocent life to extend his cursed one. He deemed it as worth it, and even though he knew how devastating the consequences of his acts would be, Herpo still decided to submit himself to it."
"What were those consequences?" Ron asked. "I might be wrong, but I felt you weren't talking about those Herpo would suffer from the ritual."
"You are sharper than I thought, boy," Kayle said as she sent a quick look to Gerd. "I was not, indeed. How much do you know about Herpo the Foul, who was labelled as the first dark wizard ever?"
"Not much," Ron replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "He was evil beyond limits and he created many dark things; at least, that's what I read in my History's book," he paused for a moment to remember the vision which had been engraved in his mind. "Then I really learned about him. He killed Gerdnyaram in a fight I will never forget. The way he fought and killed was…, monstrous—yes, there is no other way to describe it."
"He wasn't so bad at first, back during his youth," Kayle let out a tired sigh. "He always had those… questionable morals that allowed him to experiment with magic further than others would dare, and he acted wrongly many times in his youth. His name wasn't known without a reason. That being said, he had a really strong ambition behind his actions and his search for both power and knowledge—a very respectable one, even though, up to this day, I still ignore if it was fueled by pride or a noble sentiment towards us, his people."
"The information I want to share with you does not have a direct relation to the ritual and immortality we were discussing," Kayle continued. "However, the beginning of your story was written many centuries in the past, Ronald Weasley, when a man by the name of Herpo started to weave the lattice in which the threads of our lives pass by. He is the core of this story, ours. All started with him, and all should end with him." She got up from the ground and extended her left arm towards the boy. "Gerdnyaram wants to purge the World from the evil root Herpo and his Heir represent, while I want to bring peace to those fallen comrades of mine, whose lives and peace were taken many centuries ago by a man who betrayed us. But, what do you want, boy?"
Those words dispelled the stupor which had enveloped his mind. What did he want? I want to save my family and those people who don't deserve to suffer from the actions of such a vile man. Ron shook his head to shoo that idea away. No, that was such a great ambition; too great for an ordinary boy like him. They related so much to those words Tom had used to poison his mind and heart; the only fuel his stupid pride had needed to allow that bastard to take control over his body.
I want to save my family and those persons I care about, came the next idea; a much plausible one. He could accomplish it; he'd try, at least. Those feeble dreams of greatness weren't fit for a regular person like him. It was a witch like Gerdnyaram who could save the world, and the same went for Harry and Albus Dumbledore. Theirs was that dream and duty. For a moment, Ron doubted—he didn't know if he was envious of those persons who were fated to achieve greatness, or if he felt pity for them—after all, he had tried to play hero once, and it had been enough for the rest of his life.
"I'm in," Ron answered. He didn't have an honourable reason to fight like the two Essentias did, but the oceans would dry before he gave up on his family. He could still remember the dread that shadow caused him the day they fought for the Stone of Life, but when he closed his eyes, all the boy saw were the faces of his loved ones smiling at him—his parents and his six siblings were there, in the front, but close behind them were his close friends… Harry, Daphne, Tracey, Hermione… He could save them all, and he will!
Herpo and He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named both survived death because of some aberration the most ancient of them invented. The two of them were alive, lost in the vast world and safe from those who once opposed them. If Gerdnyaram thought—no, she knew thanks to her Great Sight—for the two dark wizards to share a destiny, then it would be their duty, as the only people who were aware of it, to end their story once and for all.
At least, he wouldn't travel that path by himself.
Ron's hand met Kayle's, and just like it happened before, the beach disappeared. This time, he couldn't identify any specific locations; it was more of a very rapid sequence of blurred images and dull colours that danced around him. Then it stopped.
Barely rising over the calm water of an ocean there was a red sun. Like a curtain of fire that announced the dusk, its reflection on what should have been two blue surfaces fooled his eyes for a few seconds; no, the ocean and the sky had not been set ablaze, it was just a very astonishing visual effect.
He walked forward, just to feel how his feet stepped on a soft surface; it made a crackling noise. The entire place was covered by a layer of dry grass that reached his ankle's height. To him, it was a sad view—he was so used to the green and lively colours of the Burrow and its surrounding terrains, that his mind couldn't understand how such a great scenery could be tarnished by that chestnut tonality.
Ron snapped out of it and looked around, then he realised where he was standing: at the end of some large cliff, a hundred metres over the water. Near the border, forming a perfect heptagon, there were seven chairs; tall seats made of bright silver and cushioned with some thick animal's furs for its owners to have a comfy seat. Those aren't regular chairs, they are thrones. Empty thrones for people whose identities would be revealed soon.
Time passed, and the fiery light from the sun came to an end. It was replaced by the faint light of the moon, a full one. Then, three silhouettes made their way upwards towards the ring of thrones. The boy couldn't suppress a gasp as their faces were revealed to him; he knew them all!
At the front walked an old man with grey hair and beard, wearing a simple and yet elegant tunic, of the same colour as the night. Herpo the Foul… Even if he looks much healthier than he did in Gerd's vision, I won't ever forget his face.
To his left was the dark-skinned warrior he saw at the last vision; Kadir, the man who saved Gerd—gone was his leather armour, but the red cape with the strange symbol sewed on the shoulder pad remained. He had a long and confident stride, but unlike it, his face looked troubled.
Lastly, at Herpo's right came Kayle.
The blond woman wore some very elegant and regal armour, of a golden tonality that brightened the night by itself, over a white dress which ended a bit over the knees. It wasn't a full set since the armbands and the helmet were nowhere to be seen, yet she didn't need them to look like a proper warlord; the most beautiful one in mankind's history, that's it. Carved in the centre of her breastplate was a thick tree with thousands of roots which descended until the pelvic area, of a green metal that, despite the great difference of tonality, looked as the perfect partner for the golden pieces. It should have been a very uncomfortable attire to wear, especially since there wasn't a battle, but as she walked, the golden set seemed to follow every of her movements as if it was an extension of her own skin.
"The night all changed," the voice of Kayle echoed in the place as the three figures took a seat on the first three thrones, those that were further from the cliff's end. "Had we not shut down Herpo without giving him the benefit of the doubt, we might not be having this conversation. Oh, how much sense his words hid, now I can say it! Cursed be us, let it be Alatzthi, Precursors or those fools who walked by our side when we believed for us to be the kings of the world!"
"What was fated to happen in the course of our lives, as soon as we took our first breath in this world, can not be avoided," Gerdnyaram stated. "Herpo's act were bound to happen; we were fated to try to stop him and to fail miserably, just to try it again thousands of years laters; this meeting had always been just another step towards the fulfilment of our destinies."
Ron didn't have to wait much for those who were missing to appear.
Out of thin air, a man materialised not far from the heptagon. He wasn't old—in fact, he looked very healthy—yet each one of his steps were rhythmic by the ups and downs of a very large staff, of white wood, that had twin, feather wings atop of the wooden end, which easily surpassed his height. The man took his time to reach the centre of the heptagon, then he stood there, under the watchful eyes of his three companions.
It allowed Ron to observe him better. Black hair fell all over his shoulders, which along with his very sharp features and serious attitude, gave him the look of a stalking raven. However, it was his eyes that made the boy step away from the man; two irises, of a darker shade than his hair, practically gleaned over the mily white sclera.
For several minutes, none uttered a word.
Until Kadir broke the silence. "You've been spreading rumours, Caedar," the imponent man stated. It wasn't a warning, more of an accusation. "You did not take part in the War, yet you dare to blasphemy the name of those brave warriors who sacrificed their humanity for us."
Their humanity, not their lives, Ron noted. Those people loved to talk about very difficult topics to understand, but each one of their words could be useful for him in the future; he needed to put all his focus into the task.
"It was not my duty as the Citadel's Keeper to fight," the black-haired man answered with a calm voice; it didn't give away a single emotion. "My duty is to advise the King in all he needs me to," he took a moment to look at the vast ocean, even though it now looked as dark as the void itself. "The War for the Dawn might have ended twelve years ago, with us as the victors, but the Alazthi Empire suffered heavy blows… too much noble and great blood spilled… and those who lived, too many mediocre Houses with enough pride to make us live another war…"
Some heavy steps interrupted his speech—uphill came another young man, one taller than the rest. Yet, it wasn't his most prominent feature, not when there was a tangled mess of white curls over his head, not when his azure-blue eyes shone as the purest sapphire ever. Despite what his simple tunic tried to hide, of a very pale silver with purple ornaments in the neck and the sleeves, the man's presence screamed royalty.
"Nalend, my King," Kadir stood up to bow at him, but the King stopped him with a raised hand.
"Rest easy, my old friend," the royal let out a tired sigh. Then he looked around. "Two seats remain empty… Herpo, Kayle, Kadir and Caedar, as I expected, you answered my summons." He made his way towards the nearest seat to the cliff's end—as soon as he let his body down on it, his regal facade turned into a defeated one. "Neither Goran nor Sepherene came."
The words fell heavy over the group. "I would never dare to accuse Lord Goran of treason, but his actions in the past few years, since the War ended, had been pretty questionable," the man by the name of Caedar voiced out. He still refused to take a seat.
"Is that what you've been whispering into the ears of those Alazthi fools who still hear what the Citadel has to say?" Kadir bit back.
There was bad blood between those two, Ron could tell.
The King silenced them with a simple gesture. "When I was a kid, my father used to tell me stories about peace," Nalend began. "Peace, such a fantastic yet rare word… How was peace even possible when the Nightmares attacked our people, the one we were bound to defend, at their houses' doors? How was it possible when we, the magical race, still fought one another despite us both being annihilated by bloodthirsty beasts? One day, the need will arise over our personal ambitions, and then we will stand united, he told me again and again…"
The vision stopped out of the blue, and Kayle's voice came to him from every direction. "Our existence has always been threatened by the Nightmares and their need to feed on our flesh and blood. For centuries, our society consisted of hundreds of scattered groups and civilizations, each one carrying out their personal venture against those monsters and against other human groups. Some, like the Alazthi Empire or the Forest's People, were strong, but most lacked power to defend themselves."
Some shadows appeared in the middle of the heptagon; different beasts killing and eating humans. "The War for the Dawn came and the Council was created. Seven individuals, some of the most prominent figures of the Ancient Times, were chosen to represent and to speak in the name of their people; mankind's last hope," the Essentia explained. "This was our last meeting, because even after surpassing the biggest thread we had ever faced, instead of plenitude, it brought us nothing but misery."
The vision resumed.
"The Nightmares worked as one being—to hunt us down was their one and only objective," the King continued, almost talking to himself, under everyone's attention. "My father lived to see the day in which the magical race left their disputes aside to fight those predators which wanted to wipe us out, yet our Goddess, Magic itself, if she even exists, was cruel enough to deny him his greatest dream… Dalingrar Khol lived and died for his people, but he didn't get to see his dream of peace come true…"
Even Ron was absorbed in the speech. "Herpo, the leader of the Order of Precursors and probably the greatest mind that has ever graced us," the King raised his voice as his eyes looked at every one of his companions. "Kayle, a half-elf sent to us, the Council, to represent the People of the Forest. Kadir, a simple man whose brave actions in the War inspired the common folk to take part in it; he who is admired by all. And lastly, Caedar, the Citadel's Keeper who advises me as he did with my father."
Nalend looked to the two empty seas. "Yet we are nothing without our two missing pieces… Goran the Dragonlord, who carries one of most noble bloods the Alazthi Empire has ever seen, but was altruist enough to sacrifice his humanity in order to become the First Hunter; he who became the Nightmare's Bane and the best warrior the world has ever seen. Sepherene, she who leads the Maidens of Hecate, humanity's shield for the past centuries… Their absence threatens our feeble peace in these tough times after the War. It won't matter how hard we try to defend it if those two refuse to listen to me… If the War for the Dawn wasn't enough to create a united front, nothing will."
The soft wind was the only audible sound over the dark silence that enveloped the cliff. It was an atmosphere of defeat; those people were at the verge of giving up.
Kayle stood up from her throne. "I hate to act as the emissary who only brings bad news," she started. "But I was sent here to represent the People of the Forest, and they still seek answers and justice for the atrocities which were committed against them in the War." Both her face and voice now showed a cold touch. "They chose to remain neutral, yet they were slaughtered by those who swore to be on the good side. It's been twelve years since it ended, and the Lady of the Forest still waits for those vile acts to be punished."
"There were Nightmares among your people, Kayle," Kadir said with a soft voice. He looked like a child among adults, something that surprised Ron—after the vision Gerd showed him, he had expected for that man to be a menace at everything and everyone.
"Neutral Nightmares," Kayle hissed back. "But does it even matter? I know you have very little blame in this matter, Kadir, but these people do not. By the order of Nalend Khol, the Hunters were set loose when they weren't fit to control their new nature; they killed and killed, but didn't care whose blood tarnished their hands. The Citadel did nothing to aid us, even when the Lady of the Forest helped them in the past. Then, the War ended, but the Hunters and those who approved their use have yet to answer for their crimes!"
"I'm just the Keeper," Caedar replied. "The Hunters were born out of the most primal of needs, that is survival. The best warriors out of the Alazthi Elite, led by Goran the Dragonlord, and the Royal Family, whose crown rests atop of Nalend Khol's head, in an act of pure courage and dedication, choose to sacrifice their humanity so our great race would not meet its end. I believe those poor souls already suffered the cruellest of the punishments." The tall man turned to look at the King. "Such leadership speaks for itself, your grace."
"So you say," Kadir grunted. "However, it didn't stop you from spreading mistrust and bad blood among the Alazthi nobles. The Hunters won us the War, you said it yourself. If so, what is the reason after the never-ending blasphemy you've been spreading for years? Hell, what is left of the Alazthi Elite—pure cowards and weaklings, if you ask me—want nothing but to kill those brave warriors who saved them twelve years ago! Tell me, how is it? Oh, the Citadel's Keeper, what a humble servant who wants nothing but what is best for the people!"
"The Hunters are dangerous," Caedar spat. It was the first time he showed any kind of emotion, yet his face remained almost neutral. "Creatures born out of need—warriors who once were human but chose to become monsters. I will not tarnish what they accomplished. Yes, it is true they ended the War. However, how could our noble citizens, those who know the truth behind the rituals their former friends and comrades experienced, trust them to not turn on us all? They aren't humans anymore…"
"Sepherene and her Maidens know it very well, so they ran and abandoned us," the man continued. "They saw firsthand all the death and misery a Hunter, lost in their personal hell of madness, can cause to others. But, even after the rituals, they can still be killed, for we made sure of it before it was too late. If the Alazthi Elite wants to exterminate them, and if the King does not oppose it, then I will be more than happy to let our people act as they deem necessary."
Kadir stood up from his seat, his face all red and furious. In his hand, under a cloud of red-blood mist, his double-edged axe started to form. Caeder just took one step back, even though his left hand now hid under his robes.
"Tell me, Herpo, is there anything we can do?" The King's voice stopped the two men, who instantly turned to look at the royal. At that moment, Nalend Khol looked the total opposite as a leader should—sunk in his throne, trying to hide himself under the safety of his silver robes, the royal almost implored for the answer of a question he couldn't find. "You are the most prodigious mind we've ever seen. I know many of our Elite despised and feared you because of the nature of some of your experiments, but, please, if you save us all, they will no longer tarnish your name. You might be all that is stopping our race to exterminate itself."
The five figures froze as Gerdnyaram's voice echoed around. "The moment Herpo had always been waiting for came to him," she said. "For decades, long forgotten those dark experiments from his youth, Herpo had been preaching about the one imperious need our race should focus on: we needed to get rid of our pride and individuality to form a society. No one heard him—not during the years of War, and neither when it ended. Every person turned a blind eye to his words, even when death itself was present at our houses' doors. Because of that, he decided to act by himself—he believed it was the only way to save magic and its users."
As the vision resumed, her last words came out much softer, like the whisper of a soft breeze. "Yet he also failed. Like I did. As we all did."
All the eyes were on the oldest man around; such was the intensity of their stare that Ron needed to remind himself to take a breath.
"We must reach Scala ad Caelum," Herpo finally said in a soft voice; one that reached everyone's ears. "One of us must reach the Ascension, the state in which a magical user becomes one with Magic itself. Then, the rest will understand all the incredible feats we can accomplish as a race. It does not matter if it is Alazthi blood that flows through one's veins, if it is the tree's melodies, or even if it is a half-beast… We all need to set our differences aside so we can honour Magic at our best…"
Those words, along with the five individuals, slowly vanished from his sight, like a pile of cinder carried away by the wind. Ron blinked his eyes, and when he opened them again, he stood at the beach again. Just like him, the two women were also there—Gerdnyaram staring at him dead in the eyes, while Kayle eyed the far horizon.
"Do you get it now?" Gerdnyaram asked him after a few seconds of silence. It startled the redhead, whose mind still thought about the vision. "It was all fated to be. Our greed and pride were meant to be our bane. Herpo was meant to try to save us, but to also fail nonetheless, mainly, because he was rejected and laughed at by his own people, those who had always tried to cast him away due to the questionable nature of his experiments from his youth… Moreover, his actions and plans accelerated it all, for they spur my need to prevent them."
"I don't understand," Ron shook his head, trying to gather all the information that swarmed his mind; too much to form any coherent thought. "That vision… You said only a bunch of you were reborn as Essentias. Those people…, if they didn't come back, then what the hell do they have to do with us?"
"As the wheel of time moves forward, the important events are bound to be repeated—you must think about the events you were showed, not the people involved in them," Gerdnyaram went on. "Our race finds itself at mortal perish once again, at the verge of destruction due to its own mistakes. In the past, it was a collective effort, fueled by pride and greed, that destroyed us. However, now in the present, it is because of one individual, who went mad in his search for power, that represents the biggest threat."
"Herpo's Heir, the one who calls himself Lord Voldemort, used his secret and most vile atrocitie to survive death, just like our dear leader did," Kayle muttered in a sour voice. "I'm afraid, this new threat you just talked about it's a hundred time more dangerous than Herpo was, since he already looks to be on the move, only a few years after his false demise."
Gerdnyaram sent her a sharp look. "You are quite well versed about it," she pointed out.
"I did not form a Link for the past centuries, but that doesn't mean I'be been sitting here, doing nothing but crying about your whereabouts, when you all had your plans and ambitions. No, I needed to find both Herpo and the three of you. For that, I established feeble contacts with multiple humans every once in a while."
"Hey, hey!" Ron jumped into the conversation. Those two old souls liked to ramble about their lives and past too much; he needed answers, and he wanted them now. "Don't deviate from the matter," he was sent two cold looks, accompanied by their respective raised brows. "Please?" He added.
"The boy's right," Kayle let out a tired sigh. "We've already talked about this, Gerdnyaram. You have a goal, and I have mine. In fact, it is very probable for our collaboration to be needed if we want to accomplish them."
Gerdnyaram answered with a subtle nod of her head, then she took the word. "This is just a guess of mine, but I think Herpo has not died yet because there is something he needs to do before perishing," she said. "All his life, he's desired for one thing over the rest: to reach the Ascension. He failed countless times; all his ideas were futile. Then, the concept of immortality crossed his mind. Herpo didn't know how, or if it was even possible, but he was sure of it being the last and correct path. Again, he failed."
"It makes sense," Kayle agreed. The golden Essentia looked deep lost in her thoughts.
"Well, I don't see it, so, care to elaborate?" Ron pressed her to continue.
"Herpo was a very tenacious man, to a point in which many called it madness," Gerdnyaram went on. "He didn't care about eternal life, not unless it was the path to reach the Ascension. If he's alive, let it be as an Essentia or something else, that is because he still seeks for the said knowledge. Otherwise, he himself would have put an end to his cursed existence long ago. Herpo failed, but then came another wizard, one who dared to go through the same rituals as he did in the past; a wizard who is even more versed in magic than him."
Ron finally got it. "You gotta be kidding," the redhead snorted. It wasn't funny—it was very far from it, actually—yet it was the first reaction that came out of him. "If our mission wasn't difficult enough, now you tell me you think the first known dark wizard in history wants to take You-Know-Who's side? Great. Fantastic."
"It is a guess," Gerdnyaram sighed. "The Great Sight is silent, and this time it feels different, not like other times in which it didn't give me any knowledge. I don't like it. I'm scared. Yet, I know there is only one way to go, and it is forward. It doesn't matter who stands in our way, we must overcome all the obstacles to save this beautiful planet."
"Yes, if there is someone who can reach the Ascension, that is the monster known as Lord Voldemort," Kayle muttered. "For many years, Herpo was mocked and laughed at because of his delusions of greatness. He told us many times that he would become the first wizard to unite his soul and heart with Magic—just as many others, we called him madman. He tried and tried, just to fail again and again—death found him, yet he did not surrender… If he's aware of him, Herpo must have already seen Voldemort's potential to reach the state he could not. He's his one and only heir."
The three of them fell into a calm silence. Ron used it to observe the two Essentias—Kayle looked to the sea, while Gerdnyaram stared at the ground; none of them paid him any attention. He could see how hard the two of them were thinking about what had just been said; how it could affect their plans. The two women had different objectives, even if they shared a few points. Yeah, and I'm in the bloody middle of it. He hated that fact with all his soul; the boy knew he was going to be manipulated sooner than later.
However, much to his surprise, he accepted that thought.
As long as they need me, I can also use them to protect those who I love. It was a very risky bet, but that was also fine. By himself, he stood no chance—with such a big reward at the end of the road, what was a bit of pain? He was scared to the death, of course. But, when all was said and done, he hoped for it to be worth it.
Ron tried to look confident. "Okay, we thought about the worst case scenario," the boy started as he flicked his fingers to get the Essentia's attention. "But what if Herpo has no intention, or let's say, knowledge about You-Know-Who, to join his ranks? From the little I know about him, he isn't a very approachable person, to say something. If the existence of a wizard like Herpo was revealed to him, moreover, if the said man was in such a weak state as you believe him to be, what's stopping You-Know-Him to exterminate him? I know he can't die… Well, not really…"
His rambling brought another point to his mind: how the hell were they supposed to kill two immortal wizards? Ron didn't talk for an entire minute, and the two women raised a brow at him. "How does that shit of eternal life work?" The boy asked after reorganising his ideas. "That's what me and Gerd were talking about before you came, but we deviated from the topic."
"There needs to be a ritual and some object, that's all I know," Kayle said. "An object to anchor a soul to this world, and a ritual to imbue it with the soul—probably, a person needs to be sacrificed at the said ritual."
"I do trust you, Kayle, but how certain are you of that?" Gerdnyaram pressed on. "I don't think it is something you learnt when you were still alive, and that would mean it is information which came from a third person…"
"When you all died, and only I and my cousin were still alive, after reading your letter and killing Herpo, I understood many things," Kayle interrupted her. "Kassandra was dead, killed by her own husband during the ritual; a sacrifice needed to imbue the cursed object. How do I know, you ask me. Trust me, if you had felt the ominous magic that came out of his obsidian dagger, you'd also be sure of it."
"Wait, so we already know what kind of object he used, don't we?" Ron piped in. It felt like the first good news in years! "Then all we need to do is locate and destroy it!"
"It is already destroyed," Kayle replied.
That statement left Ron pretty confused. But… If it was destroyed, why are you two still here? He hated being so blind to such important knowledge—unfortunately, it happened quite often.
As if she had read his mental rambling, the golden Essentia continued. "I destroyed it by using Sacred Fire, but the cursed item was so powerful that it also took my life with him; quite a painful and slow end, if you ask me," she added with a sour voice. "Anyhow, the point is one Horcrux is already destroyed. Other than that, I know nothing."
"One, as if there are more?" Ron questioned. He already knew the answer he was about to get, but the redhead needed to hear it from her mouth.
"An Horcrux?" Gerdnyaram asked at the same time.
"It seems the path to immortality is of public knowledge in the present, at least to a very small part of the population," Kayle replied to her old pupil. "A witch I met recently called it that way: Horcrux, the cursed object that can link a soul to this world, even after the death of both heart and mind. " Then she turned to look at Ron. "I know there has been more than one since I destroyed the dagger, yet we are still here. Now, don't ask me an exact number, because I don't know it. I suppose the ritual must take a huge toll on the soul, but how grave is it? I hope it is very demanding, for our hopes depend on it."
A rapid succession of thoughts went through his mind—if they could be called so, because to him, they looked like a bunch of fears that had just been turned into realities. Fuck my life… Those bastards managed to link their souls to some cursed items and that's why they are still alive. Harry didn't kill Him that night, he just delayed everything. For more than a year, all he had wanted was to know; to know as much as he could from everything. His blindness to the events that Gerd assured him they would take place in the future had scared him so much, but now that he knew many things—very important ones—Ron didn't know how to feel about it.
The magical race found a way to survive death many centuries ago… Death, the only constant in everyone's life—death, the only force that could save them from He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Ron had also been wrong about that. Dear Merlin, not only do we need to kill He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, we also need to find and destroy those cursed objects which link His soul to this world. He wanted to scream and cry. It looked to be an impossible feat to accomplish—not only to him, but for those special people like Gerdnyaram, Kayle, Harry or even Albus Dumbledore were.
Instead, the boy just grabbed a bunch of sand and squeezed it as hard as he could in his hand, trying to turn the already minuscule grains into mere dust. "Is that all we know?" He asked, his calm facade still on.
"It is more than enough to start," Gerdnyaram stated with a voice that didn't leave room for any argument. "It is way more information than we had at the beginning of our talk, Ronald."
"We also clarified all of our ambitions," Kayle cut in. "We have two objectives, two lives to end: Herpo the Foul and Lord Voldemort—the paths of those two wizards might cross in the future, if they have yet to do it." She turned to look at the other Essentia. "I believe this is the end of our meeting, Gerdnyaram. From now on, we will both act on our own, as we recently agreed. Yet, if the need calls for it, we will join forces once again. That also includes the others, if we manage to contact them."
"With Niklos gone and Kadir, presumably, on the other side, I see that future of yours quite optimistic," Gerdnyaram replied, yet she nodded her head in agreement. "It is the two of us, for now. Us and this boy, Ronald Weasley."
"You chose him to form a Link, and you never took an action without a good reason behind it," the voice of Kayle reached his ears as the Essentia dematerialized, in a rain of golden spirals of light, in front of him. "I have people of this age to talk with since the plans have changed, but I will be there if my presence it's needed." Just when the redhead thought it was over, her voice whispered in his ears some words that sent a shiver down his spine. "I asked a certain witch to search for you and the other people who were used to form a Link by my comrades. I'm almost sure she won't ever cause you any damage, but still, keep your eyes open at every moment, Ronald Wesley. She's of fiery hair like yours, with a long scar that goes from her forehead to her chin. I wish you and Gerdnyaram the best of the fortunes, for your success will also help me."
Ron stared at the golden particles until they were gone, then she turned to look at Gerd. "Did you hear that?" He asked. "She warned me about some witch she sent after me and other people."
"I did not," Gerdnyaram furrowed his brow. "But I already knew about it." She made a pause to walk to his side. "However, I don't think it is a problem we should focus on right now. If that woman ever finds you, we'll see what she wants—if she means no danger to us, then there will be nothing to worry about, and if she means any ill to us, we will answer back." There was a fire within her words that scared Ron, but at the same time, it made him feel a bit safer.
This new version of Gerd—better said, her real one—looked strong enough to fight for the two of them.
The Essentia started to walk away from the grey waves of water, and Ron followed her. "What happens now?" The boy asked. "I mean… I'm stuck here, am I not? How am we supposed to do anything if I can't leave this place?"
"We wait, that's all we can do," Gerndyaran replied without turning her back. "You and your friend now lay in a bed at the medical wing. Our destiny is at the hands of your people now—if they manage to stop the Heir and unpetrify you, we'll be on the move again, but if they don't…" She didn't need to elaborate on that. If Tom won, there wouldn't be a new day to fight.
He was a replaceable piece—even though he knew nothing about his Link with Gerd and how his eternal slumber could affect her. Maybe, she would find another person to manipulate once his life was over, if that was even possible. Powerful things always have negative shades behind them. It could be the reason why Gerd hadn't ended their Link as soon as Ron sent her off. That would make sense.
However, the real tragedy that would come with Tom's win would have nothing to do with Ronald Weasley. No, if there was someone who couldn't be replaced, that was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.
"Can't you do anything?" Ron almost pleaded to her. Their walk continued without pause. He could still feel the cold sand under his feet, but it was a harder surface now. To their right there was a dark and large forest, with short trees that looked to be vigilant of every of his movements. Ron didn't know what freaked him out the most, if the cold and grey ocean, or the menacing forest.
"Not really," Gerdnyaram let out a tired sigh. "Not as much as I want, at least. Your actions greatly weakened our Link, and because of that, I can't leave this place like I used to do." There was a faint accusation in her words, and Ron took it on the chin. Don't be sorry, be better. Those words, said to him by Snape, came to his mind—there wasn't a single second to lose lamenting what couldn't be changed. "However, I think I still have enough energy to leave Scala ad Caelum once. I'll wait for the perfect chance and then I'll bet all in one play."
Their new relationship was one of equal and total trust, or she said. For now, the redhead would have to trust her as he did nothing, even if that irked him to a point that it hurt. "I guess it will be sleeping time for me, isn't it?" Ron laughed mirthlessly. What a pathetic joke of a hero he was!
"Yes, it will be," Gerdnyaram said as she turned around. Their eyes met for the first time in more than ten minutes—in those blue irises, Ron saw a fire that scared and fired him up at the same time. "However, before you leave Scala ad Caelum to rest, you can ask me as many things as you want to know. I promised that I will not hide a single detail from you anymore. My stupid need to act by myself condenmed me twice, and it condenmed the magical race once. Besides, you've proved to me that I can trust you to fight until the end, Ronald Weasley. At first, I chose you to form a Link because of who you were meant to be to other people, those who really were important, however, you turned out to be a courageous and noble boy, one strong enough to move forward despite all the tragedies he knows about the future. Ask me as much as you want, Ronald, and I will answer as much as my knowledge allows me."
He had many questions, indeed. However, his head hurt like it hadn't done in his entire life—he had already absorbed enough information to knock Hermione out. Come on, this is your chance. Even if I start to trust her again, she can't lie here; just in case. The first image that came to his mind was of Tom and his hateful smirk looking down at him.
"What is Tom?" Ron asked. "Is he an Essentia like you? Before Harry stormed into the room, he said something about you: 'hers looked to be more powerful than mine'. Now that I think about those words, it makes me realise he thought you two had the same nature. I wanna know your opinion."
Gerdnyaram looked quite thoughtful for some minutes as she walked around; three steps forward, a turn around, then three steps backwards. She repeated the sequence many times before speaking. "Most likely," she finally said. "I can't give you an exact answer, but that is what I think. The fact he was able to manipulate you, getting stronger as you fell into his strings, looks very similar to what I did with you—he didn't form a Link with you, probably because he intended to use you for a bit of time before tossing you away like a broken tool" Those words were said with such ease that Ron couldn't suppress an ironic snort. "Maybe, he's one of us: a soul trapped in this world because of some broken oaths."
Tom's smirk appeared in his mind again, this time, accompanied by the cold look Gerd gave him when their argument took place. "That day, why didn't you stop me?" Ron asked. There was a slight accusation there, but he didn't care to hide it. It still hurt. "You knew about Tom, didn't you? Then why?"
"When you came to me in that clearing, I thought it was going to be another ordinary conversation, and it certainly progressed as such," the Essentia let out a tired sigh. "However, in the spur of a second, it all changed—your aura, your posture and attitude, the way you looked at me… And the fact there was another presence within you, one so dark and vile that almost paralyzed me. One I had only felt once in my life, the day where I faced Herpo before he could doom us all. They felt the same: regrets, rage, pride, ambition and unfaltering resolve to accomplish his goal."
"The moment I felt that presence, I knew I stood no chance, for his roots were already too deep within you," she continued. "In a few seconds, I cursed myself many times. My stupidity had defeated me once again. I knew there was a very dangerous person, known as the Heir of Slytherin, in the castle, yet I completely left you alone and unsupervised because I was too busy trying to know what the hell my old comrades were doing." The hint of a sarcastic smile appeared on her face. "Because of that, realising there was an impossible battle to win in front of me, I let you go."
"You let me go," Ron repeated, trying to take those words in.
"Since you were out of my reach, I needed to change the way I acted," Gerdnyaram went on. "I tried to hide my presence as much as I could, but I also needed to be careful with it since our Link was almost severed. Your rejection almost ended our connection, but deep inside you, there was a little part of your emotions that managed to raise over that feeling of betrayal. It was what allowed me to save you."
So, she deemed it as an impossible battle. What the hell are you, Tom? Another train of thoughts crossed his mind. What if…? He felt like he knew the answer, but the boy wanted to hear it from her mouth. "If you hadn't been able to save me, if Tom hadn't gotten rid of me like a broken tool… What would have happened?"
Gerd helz his intense gaze without blinking. "I would have searched for another person to form a new Link, one that allowed me to interfere in the events of the future," the Essentia replied. There it was, just as he had expected. It felt good to receive an honest answer, at least. "However, since yours was the first Link I formed, I don't know how its breaking could have affected me. I needed to save you, not only because of that and your position in the lattice of future events, I needed to save you because you had proven it to me again and again that I could trust you to fight until the end. That makes you a special person, Ronald, even if you don't see it that way yet."
Flattening words, those were. Maybe due to her need to appease him, but they sure felt good to hear.
Ron nodded at her. He only had one more question left, the most important one—not for the future, but to him it was. He had tried not to think about it too much, but he needed to make sure she was safe. "When Tom talked to me," the redhead started. "He mentioned that I had been harder to manipulate than some girl. Then, Harry mentioned it was Ginny who told him I was in danger…" Ron had trouble continuing. "Please, I beg you… If my sister is somehow involved in this… Please, don't let anyone hurt her. If you do that, I promise I will be the most obedient tool you could have ever wished for. Please, protect my sister."
Gerdnyaram walked towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Ron almost ran away from it—it was the same sequence Tom had used to mock him. He rejected the thought and stood still, his eyes fixed on hers. When her hand laid over his shoulder, he relaxed his tense posture. It was a warm touch, one he embraced to feel safe.
He finally freed all those contained emotions.
"P-Please, save my sister," Ron cried as he placed his head on the Essentia's chest, two rivers of tears already coating his cheeks. Gerdnyaram just embraced him back, no words needed to express how she understood how he felt. One of her hands found his back, while the other rested atop of his head, softly ruffling his hair. "Please… Fix all the mistakes I made before more people can get hurt…"
As the entire world turned black, his senses started to quiver. Still, he felt the warm embrace, just as he heard the words which were almost whispered into his ears. "I promise I will try my best," Gerdnyaram said with a soothing voice. "Rest well, Ronald, for our venture has just begun." When all seemed to be over, his mind already drifting into its slumber, the last words came to his ears. "I'm sorry for not trusting you to be enough. I really am. Difficult times wait for us, but we must be strong for those we love. I'll see you soon…"
Ronald Weasley closed his eyes.
Well, there it was. Honestly, It wasn't on the script to write a sad-emotional scene as the one to close the chapter. However, my playlist decided it was a great time to play a sad song, and the scene came to mind. So, I thought, why not?
