Consuming Darkness Solo Finished

Nikolai Volkov had been no stranger to darkness, in fact his entire name was accursed with the very substance left festering by a family who revelled in the power it beseeched. Somehow despite that the young Durm had managed to fight his way out and spent every second of his existence since in desperate dedication to bury that familial pollution. But like all diseases one couldn't simply ignore it for unless it was cut out at the core the bile always rebuilt and convulsed until it struck once more. Knees in his arms he shook in the alcove like the scared child he had once been feeling its grasp returning to claim him.

From the beginning Nikolai grew up with the knowledge that darkness corrupted but it wasn't until he left it behind him and discovered the freedom of light that he truly knew it for what it was. Darkness consumed. Not all at once or even always entirely but bit by bit it broke down aspects of who a person was replacing them with warped versions of themselves. It could turn the best people into mere shades of their former glory eating away at the good, at the soul and heart of what made them real. Separation blessed him with such clarity but his brothers hadn't his benefits and had grown as he had only worse for they had endured years longer. Nikolai knew beyond a shadow of doubt that if left he would lose them too.

Helplessness wasn't a new concept to the blonde but until these last few days he had thought himself free of it. Every step he had made to better his life since the moment he left was being undone before his very eyes like the eternity of darkness snuffing out the stars one by one. Stars were finite they would all eventually burn out but the dark was infinite, eternal, all encompassing and if he was honest a fucking nightmare. It was an inevitable fate but that didn't mean they could simply stop fighting. Nikolai had clawed his way to a better life and now he was here it was his duty to pass along those gifts. After all he wasn't sure his heart could bare witness if his brothers succumbed to its foul devouring. If they became like him.

For Nikolai's entire life his brothers had shielded him as best as they could from the darkness in their house. It wasn't always possible and it was for that reason alone he had witnessed true evil. Supposedly it was impressive to be subject to a virus like that and come out the other side not just unmarred but actively seeking to be better but Nik could never reconcile with that evaluation. It was his belief that anyone would have given the circumstance for he knew of no one that could witness that first-hand and not want to do better to make other choices. The very thought of it made him convulse in pain or sickness or merely disgust. Clutching at the cool stone for comfort he let his head fall back against it tears streaming down his face. How could he have left his brothers to fend alone, and yet he wasn't the one who had stopped writing.

At first when the letters stopped Nik had hoped Cas had simply been busy but it had been months of no contact and with each returned letter his heart grew heavier in the rejection. Now he wondered if it was really their choice at all. Nikolai had been so hurt when his birthday came and there wasn't a single word he hadn't stopped to consider the possibility that they were being denied to communicate with him. Disownment in the Volkov household would be final and Casimir had taken great risk in disobeying that order. Hair swept over his face masking it in shadow he let out every spec of pain tears staining his face in floods of devastation. For the first time since he had left Nikolai wondered if all of this had been selfish, wondered if the pain was his own doing, wondered what would have happened if he stayed. That was how darkness won, it seeped in the cracks that chipped at your lowest point. It warped and it consumed and he knew he was allowing it.

Maybe it never really left him, maybe it never could, maybe he was simply a product of it. All of the emotion felt suffocating and he clawed at his tight throat that refused to take air in. Every bone in his body rattled, every muscle tensed and every follicle of hair was raised to attention like they said it did when someone walked over your grave. The pain was almost unbearable and every time he almost caught a breath he flashed back to the explosion or to the argument with Hans or to the day he left or any other shitty memory in a pulverising spiral of turmoil. Desperate for release he clutched at his bag and drew from it the only solution he could muster. With quill and paper in hand he fought relentlessly to steady his hand along with his breathing and began to write.

Sometimes in life it seemed that no matter the amount of time spent delaying the inevitable when it eventually reared its head the act was just as hard as it would've been originally. For time may heal most wounds but it didn't prevent them. Writing the letter was one of those acts. Sitting out there in the dark he had spent hours in from the moment he left the ball, lost in wandering then perching on the shaded alcove and stargazing just working the words through his mind. Wracking through every emotion sending himself into spirals over word choice and emotion and even the plan itself until he had realised it would all be in vain in the end. For when the quill touched the parchment it was his heart he used for ink and oh how it would bleed.

Multiple times as he wrote Nikolai turned himself inside out over whether the decision was even the right one. The damage it would do was immense but if it worked he would have a family again. Not that he didn't already. Valentin and Hans were as much brothers as the four who's names flourished upon the page but unlike those four, his brothers here were safe. At least as safe as was possible in this twisted, cruel world. How much damage the Pyre of Hogsmeade had inflicted on the young Russian would likely not be discovered for some time but there was no doubt that it was a festering wound and until he could begin to heal it the cut would only deepen. That decision alone made him compartmentalise any ideas of the damage his current relationships might suffer as a result of his actions. What was the old saying, better to ask for forgiveness than permission? Still his fustanella sleeve dampened in tear stained suffering to spare the letter itself.

As he wrote the silence around him seemed almost alive. Like even though he knew beyond a shadow of doubt there was no one watching him the very quiet solitude did. The watchful eyes of the world weighing the balance of how every word would shape the rest of his life. How he was shaping his life, a path he not so long ago felt was impossible. Really the magnitude of change he had been through never settled permanently, it always tripped him when least he expected and although it was a positive usually, in today's light he felt nothing but guilt. Guilt for the happiness he had felt in leaving, guilt for leaving the only family he had ever known before Durmstrang.

20th October

Dearest Brothers,

I write to you in utter desperation for I believe that should we continue as is then I am to lose you forever. Perhaps I already have, given your lack of communication these past few months, but I refuse to sit here and do nothing any longer. I admit that when my birthday came and I heard nothing I was blinded from pain and I have allowed that to cloud my judgement from the truth. But I will no longer.

Now more than ever I find myself worrying about each and every one of you. A Volkov I may no longer be but you four are my family, whether you feel the same is inconsequential the truth remains that even if you force me to I will never give up on you. Since my title was revoked I have lived more at ease in my skin than I ever believed possible and life for the first time has genuinely felt within my own control. Our name is a binding chain and yes I know that we all know this, yes I know the suffering you all endured, that you as much as possible protected me from but now it is time for me to repay that favour. I beg of you all to meet me as soon as the coming week so that I might explain how we can move forward and leave that darkness behind. If you love me do this, I beg.

Casimir you as the eldest have the most to face and I know you feel the weight of it not just for yourself but for us all. We all know you are the born heir but the work you all perpetuate, I have seen its evils first hand and I believe to know your hearts enough to know this is not the life you all seek. There was always darkness in that house but I can't believe it has tainted you. My eldest brother who held me during my first lightning storm and told me stories of Stribog to paint those streaks in new light. My brothers who stole away my tears with laughter. I love you all. Each and every one of you is more than the mould he forced upon you. Let me help break it as I have done myself, as you all allowed me to.

Brothers. Cas, Nova, Brodny, Rad. I write this in the heaviest of heart, on bloodied knees begging you to hear it. Begging that you not be consumed by the darkness. If you remain by his side I don't know, well I don't know how to help you. Each of you have always had your talents and they are wasted being blackened and corrupted. If you love me, or ever loved me, meet me at our spot in four days time. I'll leave tonight and make my way home to St Petersburg as quickly as I can.

I hope you will. I never intended to lose you. I don't intent to lose you.

With Love,
Братишка Niko

When the words were immortalised in ink he felt no relief. Perhaps it had been silly to think that he would be granted any kind of solace from the act but instead all he received as penance was the resolve of his decision. It wasn't possible to know if he was making the right decision logically but morally he had never been surer. Nikolai couldn't allow himself to sit back and do nothing for another moment. Not when his brothers didn't even know the freedom they were missing out on, not while they were trapped under the man who had ruined all of their lives.

Folding the letter carefully he placed it close to his heart where it would remain for the remainder of the evening until he could send it by owl the following day. While the young Russian would typically have used one of the Schnell owl's to do so he had to account for the seeker's insight and tactical mind. If anything went wrong, Valentin had to be as far away as possible. No instead he would sneak off to the Hogwarts owlery. The trail had to be untraceable to protect as many as possible. Yet the way he so methodically managed to think of betrayal made him practically ill. Just a few days ago the boy was resolved to never see his family again and now he was turning his back on the only people who showed him the true meaning of the word. Perhaps he was darker than he gave himself credit.

Lessons in being a Volkov started from birth. You were not simply an inheritor of darkness you were to be an incubator of it. Nikolai always hoped he was different, that every part of his meticulously created Volkov persona had been a lie. Yet out here in the darkness, in that all consuming darkness his mind faltered and he became sure that no matter his progress, no matter the way others viewed him, he was sure he belonged to that same darkness. It seemed that sunlight no matter the strength eventually lost to the dark. Nikolai may have been denied his heritage by title but the spirit of Volkov had already corrupted him. He was damned to it forever.