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Do it.
Sebastian closed his eyes, his thoughts overwhelmed by the voice that would never stop haunting him.
At first, it hadn’t been a voice at all. It had been a tickle at the back of his mind, an itch in his fingertips. He felt it for the first time after he cast the Cruciatus curse on Wren in the Scriptorium. It had been like a small shadow passing over his mind as he cast the spell, one he had forgotten about almost as soon as it had happened.
That was the start of all his problems. It wasn’t noticeable much at first—just a twinge, a mild irritation he could easily ignore. Yet, as his search for Anne’s cure progressed, the itch became more persistent. He found himself drawn to Salazar Slytherin’s book, to the information inside. When he held the book and read the contents, the itch subsided. He learned things he had no right to learn, but the knowledge provided some relief at last…even if the content didn’t directly relate to anything that could help his twin.
The others didn’t understand—couldn’t understand. Ominis, at least, should have known what he felt. Known the itch, the desire to cast the spell again. To use it when it was appropriate. Only when needed—with care, always with care. It wouldn’t do to get caught using an Unforgivable curse.
The itch grew into a craving after he used the Imperius curse on the goblin that threatened to kill Anne. The surge of power and control he felt when he made the disgusting creature slit its own throat was unlike any sensation he’d ever felt. It was intoxicating. Invigorating. He felt as if he could do anything. This was what he needed to help cure Anne. Surely, he could do so with such power in his veins.
The euphoria hadn’t lasted long, and the fallout from his choice had nearly everyone turning from him: his uncle, his sister, and Ominis. Only Wren had refused to leave his side. She was clearly smarter than the rest of them. She knew what it was to wield power and to make it bend to your will. He admired that, but she still would never understand how he felt—the rightness of it all.
It was only when he killed his uncle that he understood just how much power had slipped from his control. The craving for more never stopped, and it became harder and harder to resist. The more upset he got about Anne, the worse the craving got. Nothing would take the edge off. He hadn’t meant to kill Solomon, but something had taken over. The craving had surged up, and he had been so angry, and the incantation was past his lips before he could stop it. There was a ripping sensation, though he couldn’t tell where it originated. Almost as swiftly, there was a cold feeling of something else filling that tear. The sensation faded quickly, and in the aftermath of his sister’s rage, he forgot all about it.
It did not forget about him.
Something other had filled the space left behind. It was hungry, and it had a voice.
At first, he didn’t recognize the voice as anything but his own. Just a stray thought here or there. A passing whim. Yet there was something off about it, a discordant sensation or an echo that none of his other thoughts possessed. The longer he lived with it, the louder it got. It was persuasive, too, oh so persuasive.
The voice crawled through Sebastian’s rational mind like a splinter being driven deep below the skin: hard to see, harder to remove, and impossible to ignore. There was seduction in the voice, the promise of sweet release, to give in and finally have peace.
There was never peace. Not truly. Moments of calm, yes, but not peace. The voice wouldn’t allow it.
Most of the he could ignore it. Push it aside and pretend it wasn’t there. Today wasn’t one of those times. The voice was a whisper in the back of his mind, but it couldn’t be louder. The world around him seemed to dim, and there was only the voice, coaxing and charming.
It would be easy.
One little spell and your worries disappear.
Do it.
Shut his filthy mouth.
One order, and he’ll never be a problem again.
Do it. Do it.
Order him to keep silent. To never speak to her again. To never interfere again.
You want this.
It would be so easy.
Sebastian opened his eyes and glared at Dean Snyde, the smug bastard with whom he’d shared a room for years. He had never had strong opinions about Dean until this moment. Why Dean thought that threatening him and Wren with detentions for just snogging under the stands was a good idea, Sebastian didn’t understand. What he did understand was that this prick was trying to come between him and a good thing he had going. Sebastian wouldn’t allow Dean to tarnish Wren’s reputation just because he wanted to get onto the Quidditch team. It was absurd.
Wren was speaking, her voice calm but intense as she tried to understand. He didn’t hear a word she said. It was too loud in his head.
Do it. Do it. Doitdoitdoit.
Imperio.
Say it. So easy to say it. One little word and your troubles go away.
It will feel so good to say it.
It would feel good to say it. He knew the euphoria that awaited him if he did and the relief at finally giving in after resisting for so long. It would be sweet on his tongue and a balm on his frayed nerves.
“Oh, well, I caught you two doing a lot more than just snogging. Behavior like that gives Hogwarts a bad reputation. Headmaster Black won’t like that at all. Especially if a Muggleborn is involved,” Dean taunted, his smirk turning nasty. Sebastian’s rage ticked up a notch, indignation and fury obliterating what little rationality he had left.
DO IT! NOW!
His wand was in his hand before he realized he was reaching for it.
Imperio.
Wren moved into his line of sight, blocking him from Dean and Dean from him. She put out her arm to steady him. He froze. Wren was still speaking to Dean, concern, of all things, in her tone. How she could even stomach talking to him was beyond Sebastian, but she had always had a cool head. Not like him.
Dean backed down and then apologized for his actions. Sebastian stared, baffled, as the boy walked off, and Wren exhaled in relief. He reached out and turned her so she was looking at him. Her pale green eyes locked onto his, and the voice hissed once before fading into the background noise of his mind.
Amusement at the situation replaced his anger, and the urge passed, unsatisfied.
———————
Nothing could have prepared him to wake up to Wren and Ominis in the throes of passion—passion that had been going on for some time by the state they had worked themselves into. He watched her climax, face turned into the pillow to muffle her cries for all the good it did now. Sebastian had never been more awake. He listened as Ominis finished with a stifled groan. He watched as they both relaxed in each other’s arms.
Sebastian’s anger had always run hot, but in this instance, it ran cold. His whole body felt nearly numb with it. There was no build-up to the voice this time, no whisper. It was nearly a shout.
Do it. Make them pay.
She is yours, not his. He is yours, not hers.
Make them pay.
They deserve it. They should never have left you out.
Make them realize.
Do it.
Crucio.
Do it.
Make them hurt the same way you are hurting.
DO IT.
He snapped out some bitter words that he barely heard himself utter as he nearly threw himself from the room in his haste. If he stayed, he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge. The desire was too strong. It flooded his veins, and he had to keep his fists clenched and stiff at his side. He wanted to draw his wand, speak the words, and see them writhe…no.
No, he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to see that—didn’t want to cause that. He cared about Wren. He cared about Ominis. Hurting them wouldn’t make him feel better, and it would only make things worse. What this was, what this could be…he would kill it before it even had a chance to grow. No matter how furious he was with them, he could not give in to the urge. No matter how devastated he was to see them enjoying themselves without him. An outlier. Unimportant.
The Undercroft called to him, so he went. He unleashed all his fury at the training dummies and stacked crates. They burst into flames, his anger making them burn hotter, more intense. He poured everything into tiring himself out, but it was all for nothing. The voice was just as loud as before, more insistent. It was almost seductive, tempting him, pleading its case.
By the time it was evening, he still hadn’t gotten the voice to quiet. This is what happened when people went mad. They heard voices…but weren’t the voices of other people? Wasn’t hearing your own voice just thinking? No. This was different. It wasn’t his voice. Not fully…but it was close enough to make him uncomfortable. What would happen if he one day couldn’t distinguish this voice from his real one? Was it even possible?
He left the Undercroft and was so lost in thought that he nearly missed seeing her. He caught her out of the corner of his eye and whipped around. Someone had their arm around her. At first, he assumed it was Ominis, and the jealousy and irritation came flooding back. When he saw the shock of red hair, he realized it wasn’t Ominis but Garreth Weasley.
How dare she.
She cast you aside for Ominis.
She cast Ominis aside for Garreth.
Make them pay.
Make them suffer.
Do it.
It’s easy. It’s right there—one word.
Do it.
One word, and he’ll never touch her again.
One word and she’ll never touch anyone but you again.
He slid up behind them, rage churning through him like bitter acid. The look of shock on Wren’s face was worth it when he spoke. She looked uneasy. Garreth didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. He kept his arm around Wren’s shoulders.
Do it. Now.
Do it.
Sebastian suppressed the urge, using words instead of magic. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying. It didn’t satiate the desire. It made it worse. He was almost buzzing with the need. He walked closer to Weasley and Wren, and Weasley had the nerve to push Wren behind him as if she needed protection. From him?
He’s right to protect her.
It won’t matter.
Do it.
Neither of them can stop you.
It would be so easy.
One spell.
She’ll never go against you again.
Except that was wrong. Wren pushed Garreth aside and put herself between them. The fury was written across her face. It might have been cute if he wasn’t so angry with her. If he wasn’t so angry with himself. If the voice would just let up for five minutes.
Do it.
Do it.
Do it.
Do IT.
DO IT.
He barely even heard the words coming out of his mouth. The voice was so loud, so overpowering. He saw Wren’s expression change halfway through his sentence, the anger turning to fear.
Then his mouth betrayed him, sealing shut. He couldn’t move his tongue from the roof of his mouth or speak. The anger surged again, but he could do nothing against it. Not the spells the voice whispered to him or any other besides. He tried to pry his lips apart, but nothing worked, not even when he tried using his hands. Whatever spell she had hexed him with had worked wonders.
“Wren, is…is Sebastian who you were expecting when you blasted me in Hogsmeade?” Garreth asked, concerned, and Sebastian looked between them, confused. That wasn’t what he expected Garreth to say.
Wren quickly denied it, but Garreth wasn’t convinced. He eyed Sebastian with a glare. Irritation boiled up inside him, but it had nowhere to go. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t do anything. Even if he wanted to listen to the voice, he was trapped.
Wren assured Garreth again that she was fine and didn’t need an escort. That she’d handle Sebastian. Handle him? As if he were the problem in this situation? As if he had done something wrong? If only he had the use of his mouth, he’d make her see just who was in the wrong here.
“Remember, he’s only the second-best duelist at Hogwarts,” Wren remarked with a glare at Sebastian, and oh, how that irked him. He’d always loved that she was a fantastic duelist, and he encouraged her at every opportunity. It was infuriating to have it thrown back in his face that she was better than him, especially when he could do nothing about it.
Garreth finally decided that Wren could handle herself (or that Sebastian was useless with a mouth locked up tight), and he excused himself. When they were finally alone, Wren turned on him, eyes blazing and fury nearly radiating off of her small frame.
“I cannot believe you!” she hissed.
“ME?” he wanted to say, but all that came out was a muffled noise in the back of his throat. She didn’t drop the spell; in fact, she told him that he could suffer until she felt like releasing him.
How dare she.
How dare she do this.
What right does she have to be angry?
She can’t keep this up forever.
When she drops the spell, do it.
She’ll never do anything against you again.
She will be yours. Only yours. Only yours.
Only yours forever.
One spell.
Do it.
Sebastian didn’t want that, though. If he was honest with himself, he knew he didn’t want her to be only his. He just wanted her in tandem with Ominis. The three of them, together. As they had agreed the day before. Not…whatever today was. Not whatever this little trip with Garreth was. How could she have cast him aside so easily? She had a big heart, he knew that, but this big?
She took him to the Room of Requirement, though it wasn’t the usual place they ended up. It was a stone room with nothing in it. Wren whirled on him, wand to his face. He recoiled instinctively, feeling a small tendril of fear creep up his spine. She was powerful—more than powerful with that ancient magic of hers. She could obliterate him if she wanted to.
You could obliterate her, too.
It’s easy.
You’ve done it before.
Do it again.
No more trouble from her.
Wren didn’t obliterate him. She used the counter-jinx, and he could suddenly speak again. The anger was still there, yes, and the voice, but that little tendril of fear had soothed the worst edges of his rage. He expected her to say many things but not to call him out on nearly breaking a promise. That made him back-peddle immediately. He’d never break a promise to Ominis, no matter how angry he was…but he almost had. She was right. His anger had gotten the best of him. The voice had sunk its teeth into his mind, and he had nearly made another irrevocable mistake.
The anger turned to dismay, regret, and then shame as Wren outlined his mistakes in explicit detail. Her anger diminished in stages as his guilt rose. The pain and obvious regret on her face washed away his remaining outrage, and all he felt was resignation. Would he ever make the right choice? Would he ever be anything other than a fuck up?
The voice just laughed.
——————————
Sebastian had left his wand back with his uniform. It wasn’t allowed on the Quidditch pitch. Thus, he had no means to quiet the voice screaming at him. There were no whispers this time, just the loud, insistent drone of the same messages. Over and over. Ceaseless. He could hardly hear McNully’s commentary over the voice.
All he could focus on was the voice in his head and the fact that Dean Snyde had purposefully hit Wren with a Bludger between plays. She hadn’t even been the one to score.
How dare he.
Kill him.
Kill him.
Make him pay.
He deserves it.
Sebastian had never been able to do wandless magic. He did, however, have a different sort of stick.
He was on Dean before he could stop himself, his bat cracking down on Dean’s shoulders, nearly unseating him. The anger hadn’t risen to fury yet, but he wouldn’t let Dean go unpunished for harming Wren. The roar of shouts from the stands almost blocked out the voice in his head, which laughed and laughed. It took three of his teammates to pull him off of Dean. Dean blinked, dazed and bleeding as the whistle blew again. He didn’t care about the fouls or the game.
The urge receded in the aftermath of his outburst. It felt good. It felt damned good. He hadn’t needed to kill Dean. The pain he’d administered had been enough to satisfy the voice. It was the first relief he’d had in months. The relief outweighed the shame. It outweighed the glare that Imelda was giving him or the disappointment of his teammates.
It did not outweigh the disappointment in Wren’s eyes when she looked at him. He’d disappointed her, but that was his job. Resident disappointment. Always making the wrong choice. Always fucking up. Always, always, always.
Always.
Always.
Always.
——————
Kill them.
KILL THEM.
KILL THEM.
Make them hurt.
Make them bend.
Make them suffer.
You are capable.
It’s what you’re good at.
He was good at it, and he intended to hurt them. To make them suffer. To keep his sister safe. To keep Wren safe. To keep Ominis safe. Even to keep Gabriel safe. Dueling had always been a skill he prided himself on, though the odds had never been this stacked. It didn’t matter. He would win. He had no choice but to win.
The spells flew from his wand with precision, every blast a scorching reminder that he was in control and wouldn’t give in to the voice that urged more and more violent methods to take out their enemies.
Think of Wren. Think of Anne. Think of Ominis.
They wouldn’t forgive him if he used anything worse than the blasting spell, even though twelve people were trying to kill all of them except Wren. He had finally gotten Anne back. He couldn’t lose her again. He couldn’t lose Wren or Ominis. He couldn’t return to the shell of a human he had been in his sixth year. He had everything now…and having everything meant that he could lose it, too.
Make them suffer.
It’s what you’re good at.
The voice wasn’t satisfied with his actions. It wasn’t satiated by the screams of the wizard he had set on fire. It wasn’t happy with the blood that spilled from a cutting spell. Nothing but dark magic would satisfy the urge that egged him closer and closer to the edge with each spell.
He felt it. The moment that Snyde cast the spell, he felt it. A slight, oh-so-slight relief from the urgency of the voice. It was like an inch finally reached after months of being unable to locate the source…if only for a moment. The sensation was sweet, almost euphoric…and that was just when someone else cast an Unforgivable Curse. The Imperius Curse. What would it be like if he cast the spell himself? How much relief would that bring him?
Sebastian could hardly concentrate on the battle at hand. He was drawn to Snyde, the spell, and the dark magic that pulsed inside of him, too. The magic ached to be released, to be free, and to draw power from Snyde’s own spell. Is this why Dark Wizards usually worked together? Did the dark magic thrive in groups where it could feed off the energy of the wizards that used it? Maybe it did. It certainly felt that way.
Yes.
Yes. Use it. Embrace it.
This is who you are.
Do it.
Pain exploded across his chest, knocking him from his daze. He went sprawling and hit the ground hard, making the pain flare up so bad that his vision went momentarily white. Ominis cried out as Sebastian fell, and he was at his side in a second.
“Be still. I’ve got you,” Ominis promised as Sebastian clenched his jaw tightly against the pain. He could feel the blood pouring out of him. There wasn’t anything else he could think of but the pain…except there was. The voice hadn’t gone quiet. It was still getting louder, demanding action, demanding he embrace it.
Glancing past Ominis, he saw Wren fighting wildly against Gabriel, who had been hit with the Imperius curse. She was barely holding her own against his onslaught. The anger flared in him at the sight, and the voice was nearly a shout. It drowned out everything. All he had to do was give in. It would be so, so easy.
Gabriel stilled, and Wren looked back at them in fear. Her head snapped to the right, and Sebastian followed her gaze to two men advancing on him and Ominis. Ominis, whose back was to them. Ominis, who was desperately trying to focus on keeping his shield up and healing Sebastian at the same time. He saw a spell fly from Wren’s wand, ice, and the men slipped. One fell and dragged the other down with him. Sebastian didn’t wait for them to fully go prone before he fired off Confringo, the fire blazing so hot it left a streak across the grass from his wand tip to the area they had vanished from.
Ominis fully dropped his shield and focused on the healing spell. Sebastian looked back at Wren. He saw Gabriel looming behind her and tried to call out and warn her, but the sound stuck in his throat. Somehow, she understood anyway and threw up a shield by sheer instinct. His spell collided with her shield, shattered it, and sent her flying.
He tried to get up, but all the strength had left him. Ominis calmly chanted some spell over his wound and was focused completely on the injury. Wren cried out, and he barely saw her scooting backward through the grass away from Gabriel.
Kill him. He’s going to kill her. He’s going to kill her.
Do it first. Get there first.
Stop him. Stop him.
Sebastian lifted his wand. His hand was steady, and his nerves were calm. Wren would die if he didn’t intervene. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t the real Gabriel doing these things to her. She’d end up dead either way if he didn’t stop it. He knew just the spell. The voice was screaming it in his ear. It was all he could think of.
Anne’s shriek broke his concentration before he could get the spell off. His gaze snapped to his twin, and his heart seized in sudden fear for her. She had jumped onto the back of Snyde, who was controlling Gabriel, fighting tooth and nail to break his hold on the spell. He watched in equal horror and admiration as his sister shoved her wand halfway down his throat and conjured water. The man’s panic was palpable but didn’t last long. He collapsed, and Anne went down with him.
“Anne!” Sebastian cried, but it came out as more of a croak. He hardly heard her answer over the shouting of the voice, which had redoubled now that Snyde’s spell had faded. The pain came back, and he closed his eyes to it. It was so loud. Everything was loud, but there was a small thread of triumph that he clung to. The fight was over, they had won, and he hadn’t given in to the fucking voice. He hadn’t lost control, hadn’t fucked this up. He had fought, and he had beaten it.
Next time.
Next time.
Next time.
The voice promised on repeat as it faded back to whispers, biding its time.
——————-
Kill him.
It would be easy.
You hate him. You want this.
You want him dead.
KILL HIM.
Alistair Ghast stood before him, threatening the woman he loved, and that was not acceptable. Not by a long shot. Sebastian felt the itch in his fingertips, but worse was the itch in his mind. The desire to end this before it began was nearly debilitating. No good would come from this man. Everything he’d ever done had been cruel. He was a murderer, a child killer, a torturer, and a poacher…and those were just the things that Sebastian was aware of. Who knew what other depraved things this man did in his free time? It would be so easy to lift his wand and cast the spell. Ghast wasn’t even looking at him; his gaze was focused on his daughter.
“You’re not going to touch her,” Gabriel snarled as he pushed Wren behind him, shielding her with his body from her father. The older man smirked.
“I taught you better than to stand against me, boy. Do you need a reminder?” Alistair asked as his gaze flickered to his son’s scarred face—the scars he had put there.
“Gabriel, please,” Wren protested, trying to move back into sight.
“He’s taken everyone else. He won’t take you,” Gabriel replied fiercely.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Sebastian agreed, voice low as he moved up to Gabriel’s left, helping him to keep Wren safe. Anne moved up beside him, and Ominis did as well. None of them would let Alistair take Wren. He would kill the man before that happened.
Yes.
Kill him.
Do it now. NOW!
Everything else faded except the man in front of him and the overwhelming desire. His hand started moving. The spell was right there, on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t even have to say it aloud. He could feel it, his hatred for Alistair Ghast, the wish to see him dead. To know that he could never hurt anyone Sebastian loved ever again.
“No.”
The voice was soft, so soft, and yet it cut through the voice in his head like a knife. Then Alistair was gone, and Wren along with him.
“Shit!” Sebastian cried, pulled from his daze as the two vanished.
“Where did they go!?” Anne cried in dismay, frantically looking around.
“I don’t know, I don’t see them,” Gabriel growled in dismay.
“That way,” Ominis replied. He had taken off the ring that Wren had made for him. The one to find her location. It was pulling towards the north. Sebastian looked up and saw lights from spells being cast at the very top of the hill. Maybe a mile away. That was doable if they ran.
Oh, he wanted to kill Alistair Ghast. He wanted that more than anything, except, perhaps, knowing that Wren was safe. He was torn.
“Do we have a chance?” he asked, looking at Gabriel.
“What?”
“Do we have a chance in hell at taking him down with the power he has?” Sebastian snarled, impatient. They were running out of time. Wren was running out of time.
“No. We don’t,” Gabriel groaned.
“Does Wren?” Sebastian asked.
“M-maybe,” Gabriel replied, sounding uncertain.
“Right…right…” Sebastian trailed off, mind racing.
It was hard to hear past the voice, but he forced it back and told it to shut up. Now wasn’t the time for this. He could kill Alistair Ghast, but he wasn’t an idiot. He hadn’t gotten through the last two years without learning a thing or two. He had resisted the voice until now and would resist it this time. As hard as it was, and as many times as he had almost broken…he hadn’t. Instead, he had gotten Wren back. He had gotten Ominis back. He had gotten Anne back. He had them all, and he wouldn’t let them go. Not again. Not ever again.
“We can’t do this alone,” he realized.
“What choice do we have?” Anne asked, dismayed.
“Hogwarts. Wren’s helped so many people…we have to get them, bring them here to help fight. It’s the only chance we’ll have,” Sebastian answered, the realization dawning on him all at once. All those errands she did. All the little tasks and her endless patience and empathy towards those who needed a hand. It had to count for something.
“Gabriel, help her. Stall him if you can. I’ll need all the time you can give us,” Sebastian demanded, “I’ll bring back as many as I can find.”
Gabriel hesitated for only a moment and then nodded and Disapparated up the hill towards his sister and their father.
Sebastian didn’t waste any more time. He grabbed Ominis and Anne and vanished with a crack.
——————
Her friends came willingly. It wasn’t hard to spread the word. Many students were already outside the castle, enjoying the fresh air. Natty and Lucan were the first he spotted. He didn’t go into detail. There wasn’t time. The message was simple. Wren was in trouble and needed all the help she could get. Natty and Lucan took off in opposite directions, seeking out more students to spread the word. Anne stayed on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Sebastian and Ominis entered the castle and split up. Ominis went for the Slytherins. Sebastian started with the Hufflepuffs. He found Poppy. Charlotte. Erin. Charlotte and Erin said they’d find the Ravenclaws. Poppy stayed with him as they went towards the Gryffindor common room. They found Garreth along the way, who almost argued with him but must have seen something on Sebastian’s face that changed his mind.
There wasn’t time to find more. Sebastian and Poppy ran back to Anne at the entrance to the Forbidden Forest. She was gone, but Ominis was there talking rapidly to a small group of underclassmen that had gathered. He was explaining the situation.
“Where’s Anne?” he asked, startled not to see her.
“She took Natty to Falkirk. Natty wants to help Apparate students, but she needs to get a look at the place first. Anne can’t do it alone, and I’m useless,” Ominis spat, clearly annoyed at his lack of ability to help move people from one place to the other.
“I can help too!” Poppy offered.
“Good. Hold on,” Sebastian grabbed her arm and the arm of a nearby kid who looked like he was on Wren’s Quidditch team, but Sebastian didn’t know his name. He Apparated back to the field, closer to where Wren and her father were still fighting. This was taking too damned long. He looked back at Poppy and then pointed up the hill. She nodded. The boy started running up the hill towards what looked like an enormous red shield.
Sebastian made two more trips, feeling sicker each time he popped back into the field. He kept waiting to see something different, but there was nothing to see, and he didn’t have time to waste. Things went faster once Poppy and Natty also started to bring students with them. On Sebastian’s last trip, he grabbed Ominis, knowing there likely wasn’t time to rally anyone else.
“Come on,” he growled, and they were being pulled back to the field. He tried to get them as close to the red dome as possible and managed it without splinching either of them, although his stomach wanted to turn inside out. No one was supposed to Apparate this much in such quick succession. Ominis groaned but staggered towards the red dome.
Gabriel was focusing a stream of magic on the red barrier, but he looked hopeless and furious simultaneously.
“The barrier! Add your magic! I’m not strong enough,” he cried as he spotted them. Ominis figured it out first, letting go of his sensing spell and pouring all he had into the stream of magic from his wand. Sebastian followed suit a moment later but nearly faltered when he spotted Wren.
She was hanging by her wrists against a large stone. Her chest was in ruins, and blood poured from a horrific-looking wound. Her clothes were soaked with it, but she was somehow still alive. Alistair was pulling something from her that looked like a ray of blue-white light. She was crying. Sebastian felt his heart rupture at the sight as hopelessness washed through him.
You should have killed him.
Now she’s going to die.
The voice sounded smug, and Sebastian wanted to scream.
Was it all for nothing? After all that he had endured and struggled for…was it going to end like this? Wren dead at her father’s hand and him unable to do anything about it? Did he resist the voice for so long to have her die anyway? Had he made the wrong choice yet again?
Always.
Always.
Always.
Another beam of magic hit the barrier. Then another. He glanced to his right as more and more students appeared, adding their magic to that of the barrier. Sebastian didn’t know what it was doing, but Wren seemed more alert and a little less pained with each new beam added to the barrier. Wren smirked, and that little gesture renewed the hope he thought he had lost. She spoke to her father, but Sebastian couldn’t hear what she said.
He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She nodded at Gabriel, and Sebastian flinched as Gabriel slammed the gemstone in his hand into the barrier. It shattered the gemstone. The barrier still held, but it brightened, and Sebastian watched as Wren seemed to pull the magic into herself. The barrier, the collective magic, the gemstone, and even the magic her father tried to take from her. It all collected around Wren instead, and she absorbed it. He watched in fascination as she started to glow. First, her eyes, then her hair, then her skin. He watched until she was so bright he had to look away.
The light flare was blinding even through his eyelids, and he grimaced as a deafening crack split the air. There was a rush of energy as he and everyone around him was thrown backward. It didn’t hurt, but it was jarring. The world around them went dark, and he opened his eyes, blinking harshly to try and see through the afterimage.
He searched for Wren, heart in his throat. He saw Alistair first, crumpled in a heap a few feet from Wren. Unmoving. Unimportant. Then he saw her. He scrambled to her side as fast as he could. She was on her back and looked even worse than she had a few moments ago. There was too much blood, and his stomach turned at the sight of it. He forced the bile down as he searched her face. Fear knotted in his heart as he thought she might already be gone. Gabriel and Anne knelt beside her, taking her hands in theirs. Ominis was on the opposite side of him, his wand pulsing over her body and his face contorted in worry.
When her eyes flickered open, the sudden relief that rushed through him made him lightheaded. Something about her eyes was different, but it took him a moment to place it. They weren’t pale green anymore, the light color he’d been captivated by for so long. They were now a bright, vibrant green, much like Gabriel’s eyes. He didn’t know what it meant but didn’t have time to think about it further. Wren started to cry, though her tears were silent. Her chest hitched awkwardly, and there was no question she was in pain.
“Hey, hey, I got you,” he assured her, swiping tears off her cheek with his thumb. Her tears were warm, but her skin was alarmingly cold.
“It’s not working. Why isn’t it working?!” Ominis cried, his voice tight and panicked.
“The same reason mine never healed. It’s a curse, not a wound,” Gabriel replied softly, reluctantly.
“We don’t know the counter-curse,” Anne lamented, knowing all too well how this worked. He heard the pain in her voice at seeing another person suffer the way she was suffering.
“That’s....that’s not acceptable,” Ominis snarled and then tried the spell again. The same one he had used earlier. The one he’d healed from. It wasn’t doing anything this time, either. Wren’s chest was still a mess, the blood still pumping out of her, and there was nothing they could do about it.
“Did I? Is he?” she gasped, gaze unfocused as she attempted to look towards where Alistair lay.
“You did. We don’t know how, but you did,” Gabriel assured her with a squeeze. She tried to move, to see, but pain spasmed across her face.
“Easy!” he cautioned, alarmed as the energy left her and she slumped backward. The motion jarred her, and she started coughing. Her lips turned red at a pace that made his heart stutter in his chest.
“Turn her head,” Anne instructed. He gently tilted her head to one side. His hands were now slick with her blood, and he tried so hard not to think about it. Wren was starting to panic. Her pupils were blown wide, and her breathing was shallow and quick.
“Please, Wren, hang in there,” Ominis whispered, still trying to heal her, though all attempts had produced no results.
“Don’t give up, Ominis. There has to be something you can do. Something…” Sebastian trailed off, unable to get the rest of the words out. He felt as if he were the one choking on blood. He’d never felt so helpless, so useless. The voice laughed. If he had just listened to the voice, if he had just followed through and killed her father, she’d still be okay. She wouldn’t be lying here, dying in his arms.
“Thank the others for me...they didn’t have to...” Wren whispered, desperate to get the words out.
“Yeah, they did. You helped every single one of them, and they were happy to help you in return...but I’ll tell them—every single one. I promise,” Sebastian assured her, and his voice broke alarmingly on the last word. He didn’t want to promise this. He wanted her to tell them herself. This was too much like goodbye. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Not now. Not ever.
More tears fell from her eyes, and he dutifully wiped them away, leaving pink streaks behind. There was nothing else he could do. All the magic at his fingertips, and not a single thing could stop time or reverse the damage. Wren met his gaze, and he tried to memorize her face, every single detail. He should have been doing this all along. He thought they’d have more time.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she whispered, and he barely heard her. Her words ripped him in half. How could she be sorry after all she had done?
“Don’t be sorry. You have nothing to apologize for,” Ominis assured her, voice tight.
“You were brilliant. Literally,” he agreed. His voice didn’t even sound like his own anymore.
“I…I don’t want to go,” Wren gasped, tears sliding from her eyes faster.
“Then stay,” he begged, desperate for her to pull some last-minute miracle.
There was no last-minute miracle. She exhaled, and her chest went still. It did not rise again. He held his own breath as if that would make a difference. Wren did not move. He grabbed her shoulders, seized by the need to do something, to try something.
“No, no, no no no. Wren,” Sebastian groaned as he shook her, hoping she’d be jarred back into wakefulness. Jarred back to life. It didn’t work. His eyes went back to her face. There were still tears on her eyelashes and dirt and blood on her cheeks. He wiped the tears from her eyelashes. They were still warm. Then he wiped her cheeks, trying to get the dirt and blood off. He didn’t know why. It just seemed like something he should do. It was the only thing he could do.
“Sebastian,” Ominis said his name softly. Sebastian didn’t react to it. Not until Ominis touched his shoulder. He jerked backward, head snapping up as he focused on Ominis.
“What, Ominis!?” he growled. He was so angry, but more than angry, he was lost. This couldn’t be happening. Not like this. Not after everything.
“She’s gone,” Ominis’ voice was fragile and broken.
“No. She’s not,” Sebastian snarled, but there wasn’t any denying it. Not any longer. Not with her body on the ground between them.
“Yes, she is,” Ominis replied, his voice hardly above a whisper. Sebastian looked up at him and saw tears sliding down his cheeks. Ominis didn’t bother to wipe them away. Sebastian looked back down at Wren. He had so many things he had planned for her. So many things, and now he would get to do none of them. He’d never even told her that he loved her. It had never felt like the right time, and now it never would be.
“She can’t be...I never...I never told her—” Sebastian stumbled over his words, hardly able to get them out.
“—she knew. She knew,” Ominis assured him, one hand tight on Sebastian’s arm.
He turned into Ominis, letting his head fall into the crook of Ominis’ neck as the tears finally came. He felt as if his body was going to shake apart with the force of them. Ominis just held on tightly, lost in his own grief. There was little comfort in mourning, but at least he wasn’t completely alone. Distantly, he was aware of Gabriel and Anne giving them space. Even more distant was the rumble of thunder. He hardly heard it over the voice.
You could have saved her.
You should have saved her.
He was right there, and you failed.
She’d still be here if you had used the spells.
You failed.
You failed.
You failed.
“I should have killed him. I should have killed him, Ominis. I could have done it,” he sobbed.
“No…you shouldn’t have. S-she wouldn’t have wanted that. You know she w-wouldn’t have wanted that,” Ominis stammered, his voice shaky.
“I could have kept her safe,” Sebastian replied, defeated as it started to rain.
“You did everything right, Sebastian. She will…she would…she would be so proud of you,” Ominis assured him, faltering over the past tense.
“She’s gone Ominis. What good is pride now when she’s gone?” he asked, nearly choking on the word.
“It matters, Sebastian. It matters to me. It matters to Anne. It…it mattered to her. It mattered to her,” Ominis assured him firmly as he took Sebastian’s head between his hands, speaking low, “You proved that you have control over yourself and that you won’t resort to the Dark Arts just because it’s the easiest solution. She knew you had it in you. She always had faith in you…she had faith in you when the rest of us had lost it, and she brought us all around in the end. I can never repay her for that. You did everything right, Sebastian.”
“It wasn’t enough,” he protested.
“It was. It was,” Ominis assured him and then hugged him tightly as it started to rain. It didn’t take long for them both to be soaked through, and he couldn’t help but remember the last time he’d been drenched. They had all danced in the rain, and it had been Wren’s doing. Wren bringing them all together.
Something jostled him, and he and Ominis pulled apart as he looked back to see Anne pushing Wren’s hands off of her corpse, exposing her ruined flesh to the open air.
“Merlin, what are you doing!?” Sebastian cried in shock and dismay.
“The rain!” Anne answered, waving a hand as if that explained everything, and then continued to free Wren’s skin from her shirt, ensuring all the damage was exposed to the rain. “Come on, come on! Please,” Anne pleaded as she looked up at the sky, the rain running down her face. It was then that Sebastian realized the rain had a faint glow to it. He looked up at the sky, then at his twin. He had no idea what she was doing, but he found he couldn’t look at Wren’s ruined chest.
“Come on!” Anne cried, dismay bordering on anguished fury.
“Anne,” Ominis started, his voice full of pain and exhaustion. He reached for her but stopped, hand in midair. He turned his face towards Wren, ear tilted towards her. He looked concerned, and then his face filled with wonder.
“Sebastian,” he breathed as he reached out, pawing the air a bit aimlessly to grab at Sebastian's arm.
“What?” Sebastian answered, unsure what Ominis was doing.
“Find my wand,” Ominis ordered, nearly frantic as he waved his empty hand in desperation. Sebastian grabbed it and thrust it into his waiting hand. The red light strobed over Wren. Ominis was frowning in concentration as he focused on Wren’s body.
“What are you…” Sebastian trailed off as he finally looked at Wren’s wound. His heart did a painful stutter in his chest, and he wiped his eyes, sure he must be seeing things.
“Her wounds are closing...right?” Anne asked. “I’m not just imagining it?”
“No, you’re right, they are closing,” Ominis agreed.
“But she’s...she’s still...” Sebastian stammered, unable to finish the sentence. She was still dead.
Ominis took one of Wren's hands in his and pressed his finger against her pulse point at the wrist. He let out a half laugh, half sob as he turned to Sebastian.
“She’s alive,” he breathed.
“Are you—” Sebastian started, but Ominis snatched his hand and pressed his fingers to her wrist, where he could feel the pulse for himself. He let out a choked little laugh at the faint throb, unable to believe that he was really feeling it. The longer he held on, the stronger her pulse grew, and the more he started to cling to hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t ruined everything.
They sat around Wren and watched in wonder and anticipation as the glowing rain slowly healed the damage done by her father. Anne closed Wren’s shirt for modesty’s sake as the outer edges healed. The healing was a long, tedious process. They waited in anxious silence as they watched the wound slowly, slowly close. Wren did not wake, which was concerning, but there was breath in her lungs, and her heartbeat was steady. Ominis kept checking it almost as compulsively as Sebastian was.
The rain fell for a while before the storm started to clear out, blowing itself to the north and taking the rain with it. By the time the rain let up, Wren’s wound had fully closed. She showed no sign of waking, which was concerning, but Sebastian was just grateful to feel that tiny rhythm beneath his fingertips.
“Was it ancient magic in the rain, do you think?” Gabriel asked.
“I don’t think it could have been anything else,” Sebastian answered quietly as he looked up at the sky.
“I don’t fully understand how this works,” Anne admitted, and she sounded stronger. Sebastian had hardly realized in his anguish for Wren, but now that he noticed, it was impossible to miss. He smiled at Anne, who smiled back. A real smile. One full and unburdened by pain or discomfort. The bruises under her eyes were gone, and though she was still too thin, she looked well. He had almost forgotten what she looked like when she wasn’t in pain. His heart gave a painful, grateful lurch as he looked at his twin, and he had never been more grateful. His sister was healed, and Wren wasn’t dead.
“I don’t think any of us understand how this works,” Ominis admitted as he lightly ran his fingers over Wren’s wrist, keeping tabs on her pulse point as if to assure himself that he hadn’t imagined it.
“Must be magic,” Wren added hoarsely.
There wasn’t any thought as he grabbed her and pulled her to his chest. Just the sensation of having her alive and breathing in his arms. To hear her exhale a laugh as he squeezed too tight. He didn’t care. She was alive. She was alive. She was alive.
——————
Sebastian shut the door behind him and leaned up against it, eyes falling closed as his head fell back to rest against the wood. He inhaled deeply. His chest felt heavy in his exhaustion, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered right now except the silence. His mind was quiet for the first time in nearly three years. The itch was gone. The urge had vanished. The voice was silent. He wasn’t sure exactly when it had disappeared. His mind had been on other things, but there was no denying that it was finally gone. There wasn’t a trace left, not even a whisper. He would have cried in relief if he had any semblance of energy left. Instead, he basked in the silence and the sense of peace that came with it.
“Are you alright?” Ominis asked, his voice low as he moved up beside Sebastian.
“Tired, but alright. Very much alright,” Sebastian admitted with a small grin. He wondered if Ominis could hear the relief in his voice. He wondered if anyone would notice the change in his demeanor now that the voice was gone and his mind was his own again. Would he be any different? Would the voice remain silent, or was this just a small reprieve? Either way, he was grateful for any respite, however brief.
He opened his eyes as he felt Ominis’ hand in his hair. Ominis was close; his head tilted slightly down. He had an intense look on his face, his brows drawn together slightly. His hand trailed from Sebastian’s hair down his jawline to rest on his chin. Ominis gently tilted Sebastian’s chin up and then kissed him until his pulse started to race. When Ominis pulled back, both of them were a little out of breath.
“What was that for?” Sebastian asked, curious. Ominis usually wasn’t the forward one.
“I’m proud of you,” Ominis replied, and Sebastian frowned a little, not expecting that response.
“You are?”
“Yes. I know that you’ve been struggling. I know what it’s like in the aftermath of using the Dark Arts, and I know that it only gets stronger the more you’ve used it. Marvolo, he…he used to talk about it sometimes…but the urge fades, eventually,” Ominis admitted.
“Why didn’t you say anything before now?” He asked with a frown. Knowing that this was normal would have made the burden easier to bear.
“I had hoped that the urge had already faded…but when Wren…when she…then you said you should have killed him. I figured it out. I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out sooner,” Ominis lamented, looking pained.
“Don’t beat yourself up. I wasn’t exactly forthcoming about it. I wanted you all to think I had a grip on it so badly. Truth is, it was nearly a daily struggle,” Sebastian admitted with a sigh.
“But you didn’t give in. Not once. That means something, Sebastian…and tonight? Your quick thinking saved Wren. You knew we couldn’t help her alone. That was you, and you should be proud of that,” Ominis declared, his voice firm. Sebastian could hear the pride in his tone and didn’t know what to do with it.
“I, uh, well…it didn’t seem like all that much, really,” he shrugged with one shoulder.
“Are you serious? You overcame the urge, Sebastian. Do you know how few people manage that? Have you ever heard of a wizard that turned to the Dark Arts and then came back from it?” Ominis asked.
“No, I haven’t,” Sebastian was forced to admit.
“Well, now you have. How does it feel?” Ominis asked, curious.
Sebastian thought about it. The quiet was comforting. The lack of an urge and the absence of the itch was such a relief he nearly wanted to cry. The smile came to him easily.
“It feels bloody brilliant,” he laughed. Ominis smiled at his words and kissed him again, deeper this time. Sebastian wrapped his arms around Ominis’ waist and pulled him closer until they were flush against each other. Ominis pulled back suddenly, panting. His face was flushed, and his wand was pulsing red in quick bursts in his hand that wasn’t tangled in Sebastian’s hair.
“I love you,” Ominis said, his voice low and so quiet Sebastian nearly missed it.
“You…you what?” he stammered, clearly having mistaken what Ominis had said.
“I love you,” Ominis repeated as he pulled back a little further, his voice a little louder this time.
“You love me,” Sebastian replied numbly.
“Yes. Sebastian, I love you. I have been in love with you for a very long time, honestly…and after today…well, I needed to tell you,” Ominis admitted with a small, sad smile.
“Why are you making that face? Are you unhappy about being in love with me?” Sebastian asked, concerned and reeling slightly.
“No. I’ve never been unhappy about loving you, Sebastian. I just hate that it took me so long to say it. To feel comfortable saying it. But it’s done now, so, now you know,” Ominis stepped back from him, turning to go.
He reached out and snagged Ominis’ wrist, keeping him from fleeing. He pulled him backward, and Ominis stumbled back against his chest. Sebastian kissed him hard, unwilling to let him drop that emotional bomb and then flee the scene. Ominis relaxed a little into the kiss, returning it with as much enthusiasm as Sebastian was putting forth. When they broke apart, Sebastian let his forehead fall onto Ominis’ and they stayed that way for a moment, just breathing each other in. His stomach was equal parts knots and butterflies, and he didn’t know if he was more giddy or anxious.
“I love you too,” Sebastian replied and was amused to see Ominis’ eyes snap open in surprise, even if he couldn’t see.
“Really?”
“Yes, really,” Sebastian laughed, amused.
“Well…good. That’s…yeah, that’s good,” Ominis stammered, his entire ears red instead of just the tips. His cheeks were flushed in pleasure at the admission.
“Yeah. It is,” he agreed, and when they kissed again, it felt different. It felt like something more. It felt like coming home.
He had never expected to hear those words from anyone, not after the things he had done. It hadn’t felt like he deserved them. Hell, he had never felt like he had deserved Wren or Ominis. Yet somehow, here he was, head over heels for them both. To have at least one of them say it back made him feel like the luckiest guy in the world. Now, he just had to tell Wren how he felt…when she was out of the infirmary, of course. She deserved to know. He had almost lost the chance to tell her, and he wasn’t going to let that happen a second time.
Sebastian pulled Ominis into the room, getting them away from the door. There were several ways he wanted to spend the night, and none of them involved hanging around by the door. Neither of them could keep their hands to themselves, and although they were both too tired to really make good on their newfound admission of love, it was enough just to be close.
And all the while, Sebastian relished the absence of the voice that had plagued him for so long. There was peace in the silence. There was, at last, redemption.