Summer Camp Cabin of the Lethifold Closed

Nothing. The darkness remained, Edric's wand didn't light up.

His fingers curled tigther around the chestnut wood, the ornaments of the handle digging painfully into the flesh of his palm. His breathing was too loud in his ears, almost as loud as the thundering stacato of his own heartbeat. The voices kept whispering, now nothing but a backdrop in his panicked mind. Why hadn't it worked?

He didn't understand. Edric's spell had been flawless, as he had done it hundreds of times before. Scared or nor, this was his magic and he knew what he could do. What was happening? He hadn't made a mistake, so why- without warning the voices crescendet into one single, high, blood-curdling scream that was unlike any sound he had ever heard. Cyhyraeth. They had come to take him, the ghosts. To take him with them, to the Underworld. Death.

Edric wasn't brave. He was a bit of a coward, actually. He was a Slytherin who'd almost been a Hufflepuff. He didn't know how to fight. He was twelve.

So he whimpered and wept as hands came for him out of the darkness, invisible hands that were stronger than he could ever be. He wept as the fingers of death dug into his flesh trough his thin shirt and whimpered as they hoisted him up to carry him away into the Underworld. He didn't wanna die. He wanted to be with his family and the hippogriffs, to cuddle Butterwing and watch his brothers being silly, to spent time in the Common Room with the friends he'd made over the course of the last year.

Instead the voices were carrying him upwards, whispering promises and threats alike, some of them affectionate like family and others cruel and hard as ice.

Edric didn't want to listen to them. They were not real, or at least not more real than he would be soon. The dead held no power over living, not on a night as mundane as this one. As long as he was still alive they could not inflict the pain onto him they promised. Those last seconds were his. The cyhyraeth couldn't take them from him.

He opened his eyes - as useless as the gesture was with his sight blurry from tears and the room around him being coated in dark and darker blacks - and blinked in the darkness, his body frozen in fear. Still, after a moment he could see faint blotches of color beneath him ... that was his bed, he suddenly realized, his eyes picking out one of the light-colored pillows.

He- he was only a few feet in the air, actually. Whatever was holding him was dark and scary, and he wanted to have nothing to do with it, but it couldn't be death spirits, he belatedly realized.

Edric sniffed pitifully. This was a sick joke. He'd thought he would die! "Get away from me," he hissed at the voices, drowning them out with his own words and thoughts. Did the person think that was funny? Was that Professor Valtome playing games with them? Who was so disrespectful as to immitate the spirits of death?

"You aren't cyhyraeth!" he yelled, his voice hoarse from the tears. "You aren't one damn ghost, even. You can't even be a Thestral, because I can see Thestrals! And you can't be a frickin' Lethifold either, because we're supposed to be the frickin' Lethifolds! Lethifolds eat your dreams, nobody said anything about our dreams being eaten. Cer i grafu!"

Edric's panic slowly started to ebb away and instead was replaced by cold fury. He was so angry. Why did everyone always pick on him? Wasn't it enough that his brothers did that? Couldn't that whatever-it-was go bother someone else?

His knuckles were white from how hard the held his wand. Edric wanted the hands gone. He wanted the darkness gone. He wanted his Hippogriffs back!

 She was expecting one of her fellow students to respond back to her, instead she was answered by something that gave her chills. It sounded like people, hundred if not more; all responding back to her, "We have come to watch. We have come to play. We have come to watch. We have come to play. We have come to watch. We have come to play." They say to her. 'Watch' and 'Play', with us? Just what was happening here?! Asteria took a moment to think, her hand finally finding her wand, these feeling she had in her chest, the feel of the room itself, the feel of the grounds earlier that day; it was not a coincidence in the slightest.

   There was something here! She knew that a clear as day, but what it was, was the question. The words from the book she read earlier came to mind as she processed what was occurring. Two creatures came to mind, the less likely but possible Dementor and a even more less likely Lethifold. "We are the Lethifolds." Asteria's mind continued to work, trying to figure out her current conundrum when a voice came to her mind, "Omne trium perfectum"  the voice said sounding so close, as if it were right there with her. "Uncle Will?!" She said taken a back at hearing his voice, "He wants you to understand. He wants you to believe. He wants you to imagine." the voice of her uncle continued, "There is power in threes." with that the sound of his voiced left her, only to be replace the the chilling voicing one again echoing, "We have come to watch. We have come to play. We have come to watch. We have come to play. We have come to watch. We have come to play." They were going to drive her mad.

   Asteria pondered what the voice said. "Understand,Believe,Imagine.....There is power in threes." Asteria knew of the rule of three, who didn't? 'Understand,Believe,Imagine'..three things, would they lead her to the answer? "Understand..." try to understand the situation is what came to Asteria. Asteria thought about everything, the sudden strange weather outside, the professors' words, what she read in her books, and what was happening now. It was all connected it seems, she thought back to the two creatures. Dementors'. Yes they were native to England, but she couldn't see Dementors being this all and no one not knowing, it would be ridiculous. Even more ridiculous would be a Lethifold however, they aren't native here, unlike Dementors; and they prefer warm, tropical climates; the UK was far from tropical, and yet "We are the Lethifolds."
Professor Valtome and made certain to keep bringing them up but that didn't mean they were actually here, and the professor would never put them in any danger, unless...Asteria remembered what the professor said about the room "Imagination. It is all that is required to effect great change. Envision it in your mind's eye, direct the power of your thoughts through your wand and project your will into the world. This space will make it happen. Build our home from a place within your mind." These were Lethifolds, but not real ones, if they were real, they would not still be here with their victim wide awake, they pray on those who sleep. Current situation be damned she just wanted some sleep, "You're...you're not real, are you? no..or you would not still be here even though I am awake..." 'But, who?' Asteria thought, 'whose imagination brought them to life?' 'Maybe my imagination is running wild or something.' with a silent gasp, Asteria grip on her wand slightly tightened. 'Was it me? Asteria thought, looking over to the area where her letter hid. 'Did I trigger something with my letter? or...' "He wants you to understand. He wants you to believe. He wants you to imagine." "He wants you to...He wants...He..." or was it Professor Valtome who did this? Asteria didn't know which  answer was the right one, but she was starting to get annoyed by the creatures, they have got to go!

Rosie's eyes brightened, a grin on her face. A pillow fort, tent, it was perfect. "Oh, Elora. You're a genius! We should make this together, a pillow fort would be a great idea." She squealed excitedly.

And so, after Elora suggested Rosie drop off her stuff and start to settle in, she did just that. Afterwords, she ran back over to Elora and the two began to make their pillow fort. It wasn't the neatest thing in the world, but it was certainly something to be proud of, especially from two young girls. After they had finished, Rosie said her goodbyes and crawled into the fort, setting her stuff down inside of it. She smiled at the blankets and the work they had done. Valtome was wrong, Rosie did have an imagination.

When the professor came in to signal all the children into bed, Rosie went back into her fortress, taking out her bag. She pulled out the glass badger she had been anonymously gifted on her birthday. To this day, she didn't know who gave it to her. Maybe it was some sort of love letter via gift? That'd be sweet. Rosie smiled at the possibilities and put the badger back in her bag, taking out the rest of her things. She then, laid down against a pillow, dressed in her light pink tank top and unicorn decorated sweatpants, and closed her eyes, falling into a deep slumber.



The small girl woke up to whispers. Why were people up? Rosie rubbed her eyes and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. Nothing. She leaned up and rubbed her eyes. Wait. Rosie rubbed them again and blinked a few times. Was th- Were th- WHAT?

Those stuffed animals, the ones her and Elora had set up. Were standing up. Alive. How was that even remotely possible? She quietly sat up, peering at the.. guards? They seemed like they were protecting them, that was... Actually kinda sweet in a way. She smiled a bit and poked her head to the side of them, trying to get a better look at what was happening. Rosie turned up to the celing. Wh- They were gone? How were they just gone? What were they called again? Hi-.. Hippograins? Hippografs! Whatever they were, they were gone. And that was probably bad.

She heard a scream, an unfamiliar one. But someone in her cabin, for sure. She shot up and grabbed her wand, flicking it quickly. "Lumos." She whispered, going towards the noise, hoping the stuffed animals would stay and protect Elora while she slept.

"We are the Lethifolds." 

A phrase appeared in Elora's mind, accompanied by a girl's voice. 'Omne trium perfectum.' A phrase in Latin often spoken by a friend of Elora's back in Soho, a young witch such as herself who's family spoke Latin. The young witch had spoken of this phrase often and explained to Elora, saying that roughly it meant 'everything perfect comes in threes.' 

She would often connect it back to history and religions, such as The Holy Trinity, The Three Pure Ones of Taoism, and The Three Jewels of Buddhism. Finally, Elora's friend would often talk about the Three-Fold Rule, that whatever you put into the world would come back to that person three times. 

This string of thoughts ran through her mind and her gaze became unfocused. She became lost in her thoughts, unconsciously digging deeper into those words than she doubted the Professor meant. 

After what felt like an eternity, Rosie's voice snapped her back to reality. 

"Oh, Elora. You're a genius! We should make this together, a pillow fort would be a great idea."

Elora grinned at Rosie's response and nodded excitedly. "Yes! Let's do it!" She said happily, glad to have finally made some sort of friend. 


Soon, the two began to build the fort using pillows and blankets Elora conjured. It was incredible, really how they could pull their thoughts and ideas from their mind and weave them into a reality. This cabin was like a dream, a fantastical dream from her childhood, back when ideas and imagination were magic to her, when her creativity was at it's height. 

But as Elora had grown older, she realized that bright dream wasn't quite the reality. She had grown dismissive of imagination. After all, what good was something that could never be real? 

And as anxiety took over her young life, she became agitated and fidgety. Never resting, never ceasing. Dark thoughts clouded her mind and began a thunderstorm in her head. 

Any creative whimsy was washed out with the rain from the storm in her head, the only physical thing you could see of the storm, her tears. 

But perhaps..Perhaps in this cabin, perhaps in this summer, that would change. 

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The fort turned out nicely. Elora smiled happily as they completed it. "We did it! Good job, Rosie!" She wondered what the Professor would say about this. Technically, they hadn't done anything against the rules. 

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A little while later, after Elora had been writing in her cookbook and making small doodles and notes, the Professor came out to inform them of their impending lights out. Following the others, she conjured a small washroom at the wall they she and Rosie could use. Elora brushed her teeth, washed her face, and changed into a silk black button up with white buttons and accents and black silk shorts.  

Elora then slipped under her bed covers and pulled down the cloth around the cords and switched the lights onto a low setting. She bid Rosie goodnight and lay back onto her pillow, awaiting sleep. 

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Elora had never been one for sleeping.

She had always lain awake into the wee hours of the morning, sometimes even until pale sunlight crept through the window, dousing her room in a golden haze. 

But something was different this time. 

There was an aura in the room, a strange yet familiar one that made sleep, a normally foreboding opponent to her, feel like a welcome escape. So Elora closed her eyes, focusing on the soft glow of the lights and the cool silk bedding. Elora slept fitfully, dozing in and out of consciousness until a curious feeling came upon her.


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Angela was a bit disappointed to have her conversation with Edric such abruptly ended, but stayed positive. Tomorrow's another day! He'll surely tell her all about the Hippogriffs when they have the time. She smiled and told him goodnight. Then only a short moment of privacy - some small separate space with a shower will do, she won't be picky here - and she was in her pajamas, ready to sleep. She wouldn't dare to rely on imagined clothes. Who knows what can happen to them in this weird place with an unpredictable host?

Climbing into her egg was even easier than she would expect, like the ladder was alive and moving under her feet, pushing her body upwards. She quickly got inside, sat in the middle and wrapped her body in the wonderful comforter. She gave a last look at her peers and all their imaginations and finally lied down on her soft silvery pillow. From the inside the shell was much darker and something like silvery-gold mist slowly moved through its surface. It was almost like clouds. Clouds looking like dragons, like rabbits, like owls...

---

She is falling from the sky. She is an owl. She can't fly. She can't move. A dragon eats her. Black dragon the size of a planet.

She's drowning. Hundreds of tiny hands are pushing her under the surface. It's the surface of darkness. She struggles in vain. She's dying. She's dead. Her parents are dead. Ana and Elsie are dead. They will lie here forever.

No! It's not real, not true, wake up...

She is running from a monster. She is cutting beetles. She is swimming through the lake. Giant Squid pulls her down.

Stop. It. Stopitstopitstopit

...Lethifolds eat your dreams...

A noise... a voice... she knows the voice... is it real? She knows the darkness. It has a voice too. Just a step and she'll understand it.

It's getting colder, despite the comforter.... despite THE SHELL, her egg, it's there, she can see it, the mist, it's safe, she'll be safe, just to get there, just to

wake up, wake up, wake up-

The black darkness was backing away from her-- Cel was nearly surprised, but not quite. A hiss, a growl, and it retreated, tendrils of its power seeking weakness yet finding none that it could access-- none that the girl dared show, at least. She crept forward quietly, her feet silent on the carpeted ground, rising from her kneeling pose as she advanced, eyes fixed on the dark shadow ahead-- not because she didn’t want to look away, although she did not, but because she couldn’t-- couldn’t tear her eyes off the shifting mass of blackness in the corner of her room.

Was it material? Was it living? Was it all in her mind? What was it? What should she do? The questions flew through her mind as more materialized in an instant-- did Professor Valtome know about this? Could she trust herself to handle this herself, a little girl with amnesia and just her wits on her to defend herself? “The darkness will overtake you, made up of nothing,” the black patch snarled, sensing her uncertainty.

”I am not nothing,” she countered calmly now, ”you know what I am.”



She could feel, she could sense its begrudging submission in her gut, a visceral sensation that gave way to triumph, despite the lingering air of reluctance around it. Perhaps magic, like she had barely heard another student attempt in her sort of half-trance, would not prevail at the moment, but she doubted the black, an absence of light, could hold against the sun’s radiation.

But perhaps she needn’t stave off the dark patch until sunlight appeared. Cel could feel the deep abyss of the patch of black, could reach to it, she knew, if she wanted to-- the others seemed lucky to her that the shadow had not crept, silently on the prowl, into their other corners to wait and prey. She had control now; she could...do things, she could extend a fingertip and touch it-- somehow she knew. And-- would she?

The shadow was just beyond; beyond what she did not know. It was not a distance, for this was not a physical matter. It was not a thing, for nothing so much as material separated them. It was not time, even if it could be; even if the previous statements made no sense. She settled on desire, or the absence of it towards reaching the black, yet she knew that on a whim, she could find it easily. But then what can she do?

Every sentient creature could communicate, she heard some book stay in her mind. Every book had a voice to Cel-- this one's was cool, robotic, mature, female-- not robotic as in monotone but as in without much emotion behind it. Could she, then, communicate with this one? Was it even sentient? Was it bad idea? Quite likely that it was, but it was an idea nonetheless, one that won the not-so-difficult debate in which its only competitor with the sit and argue with it until daylight appeared.

Carefully, as if unspooling a thread of black silk, Cel uncoiled a tendril of her will, reaching toward it, the looming massive void. She hesitated many times, inching forward on infinitesimal distance, or what everyone calls a face of time between minds, so as to consider the pros and cons-- but what else could she do? Inch-by-inch she moved forward, now both physically and mentally-- the Umbra, as she had decided to call it, recoiled, hissing. Though it had nowhere to go, the girl stopped and advanced slowly as if approaching a wounded animal.

She felt as if she was still dreaming, the muffling blanket of black silence pressing down around her, get the smooth press of the carpet against her feet, the coldness of air rustling the cotton she wore, and the obvious other conscious object within her reach proved her half-lucid state true. Her heart beating steadily in her chest, the glimmer of beads that she could remember she did conjured, the clear writhing mass of the Umbra that her eyes could see proved that perhaps she wasn't awake, but she was most definitely not dreaming.

Her dreams were nightmares. Her dreams were screams, unrest, flashing red and black like the red lamp of a lighthouse lonely in the silence of its roost, but without such peace to rest in-- no, they were tense and frantic, tears and anger, frustration and fire. Sometimes she would wake up at night, nearly screaming and heart pounding, not quite remembering what she had to fear but fearing nonetheless, and then she would read, letting the pages dry her eyes as the scripted land took her away into their wonder.

She used to wake up screaming, back when her first flashback rocked her mind and her replaying memories resurfaced in her sleep. For the first week, she'd apologize profusely for waking those around her back in Oxford and stayed up to avoid them. Since then, though, Cel had learned to control herself,  to keep herself from yelling out when she was afraid, only to seize up and freeze instead… at least she done so before Hogwarts, where she had roommates.

She used to sleep wishing for dreams.



This was not a dream. This was not a nightmare, this dark calm in the night that sometimes terrified her, sometimes called her. She only found it mesmerizing, calling, and she did not notice the distance she closed before the darkness was right in front of her, barely a few inches away.



The consciousness was vast, alien, empty, in a way; something was off about it, as expected, but not any less unnerving-- she touched it with her own in the same way she was able to push at the images of furniture and decoration in her mind. It loomed over her own, making her feel minute comparison, the strange sense letting her know it seemed to be surveying her through narrowed, critical eyes, but she stayed back with her two disparate ones, not judging like the Umbra's, but simply observing.

Cautiously she thought, pushing again towards the Umbra, this time carrying a thought toward its Mammoth existence. Her mind operated in Latin more than half the time, the communication she sent was in Latin as well. It would understand, she knew.

Darkness. Did he close his eyes? If so, when did that happen? What did happen? He opened his eyes, when did he close them? Did he even close them? He must have, if he just opened them. He was in a room. Four walls, a perfectly shaped quadrat. Like a cube, a big white cube with windows on each wall. The glass was polished. Everything in this room was so clean and neat, so tidy and unsullied. Pristine.

But something was wrong, something was off. A sound appeared in the back of his head, a menacing laughter. It started quiet and undetected but it grew louder and louder. Got high, shrill even as the room began to rattle as if a storm was outside. Lyonel tried to move but it was as if his feet were glued to the ground. Upon discovering this the laughing seemed to grow louder, it got more mocking and grew into an unbearable and inhumane sound.

Suddenly everything went quiet and only his heartbeat could be heard. Faster than it should, his heart beat in an unsteady rhythm, pulsating against his rib cage. But even the sound of his heartbeat soon quietened down until nothing was audible. And then, it shattered. The sound of something shattering filled the room as the four windows surrounding him seemed to burst into small pieces that flew into the room. The white ceiling broke, cracks appeared and turned the perfect room into hell as something began to fight its way through the cracks in the wall. A dark substance formed and one single drop of it fell down. Right at the spot where he stood. But instead of making way something was directing his body as if he was not in control of himself and as soon as the drop of mud hit his hand the laughter appeared again. But this time it wasn't only in his head, it seemed to resonate from all walls, echoing through the room.

The drop of mud on his usually sterile hand, that was not covered. By nothing, his dragon hide gloves gone. The small droplet be ran down his hand, following his pointer finger as Lyonel watched on in suspense silence. His brain registering, the feeling of being dirty hitting him when the muddy drop reached his fingertip only to fall onto the glass covered ground. Many things happened at once all of the sudden, as soon as the drop hit the corner of a shard that laid on the ground to his feet. His bare feet. The shards of glass reflected his face, the look of disgust and utter shock. His eyes ripped open as they were glued to the dirty line on the back of his hand.

”Not enough?”

The voice washed through the destroyed room, the remnants of a perfectly white room. It was barely above a whisper and still struck Lyonel more than anything else could.

”Look at you, look at you~”

The now choir of voices told him and he did, he felt himself unable to fight. The chaos surrounding him. So when he did, a scream left his lips, ear piercing and beside the laughing it was the only sound heard within the room. His whole body was covered in mud and dirt, dust and germs. He wrapped his arms around his head, crouched down as he pulled his head against his knees and just screamed. The laughing grew louder as more and more voices joined in and he was six all over.

"Scourgify!”

He screeched but it was no help, it did nothing. Nothing and all the dirt seemed to continue swallowing up, spreading over his skin and clothes, covering him in mud all over.
”Scourgify. Scourgify! Scourgify!” it was to no avail. It lead to nothing and he felt helpless.

”Aren’t you a wizard? You can't even manage a spell?”

”I am. I am! Leave me alone!” The mud was already reaching his throat, crawling up as it swallowed him up and seemed to consume him. He is a wizard, he is a…. Remember it.

”We are the Lethifolds”

Lyonel felt the mud reach his chin, as tears began to pool in his eyes. ”I'm not… a wizard” he gasped out, his body shaking as his voice sounded more desperate than ever. The sound of laughing that had filled the room wavered, stocked.

”You’re not?”

Lyonel gasped, shaking his head as he let his hands drop down at his side loosely, a will to fight appeared in his eyes. A sign that he wasn't to give up, not as fast at least.
”I am a L-Lethifold”

The voices appeared again, laughing; cackling. Making fun of him and mocking him.

”You’re not, You’re not!”

By now he was fully covered in dirt and mud and the ground below him seemed to get soft, the stone was turning into mud and his fingers that were placed against the ground seem to sink down into the yielding surface. Panic rises up, numbing his senses as the laughing once again filled his ears. Pleaseeeee…

”I am a Lethifold. I am a Lethifold! I AM A LETHIFOLD!”

He screamed thrice, unbeknownst to him he used mimicked the rule of three, his chest heaving.

”You are.”

The voices disappeared and Lyonel was thrown out of the nightmare as his eyes snapped open. He never moved from his spot, leaning against the wall. But his eyes opened and stared, an unfamiliar tension stiffened his body and a strange emotion masked his features. Making him seem far away, as if he still was halfway stuck in the nightmare. The Lethifold was gone, the memories and the experiences not. Lyonel found himself still caught, as cold sweat ran down his face in single droplets while his eyes stared into the nothing.

There was a storm raging in Edric's mind, a living, howling thing fuelled by fear, rage and frustration. His whole body was tense, ready to fight, prepared to tear the thing apart that was holding him captive. He didn't even realize that there was a real storm brewing until the sound of it became deafening, drowning out the whispering voices that promised death and despair.

Something like thunder roared up, but the boy couldn't have said what it was or where it had come from. Around him the darkest of nights was reigning, shadows upon shadows, twisting and merging, a single thing that was many, or many that were one. He couldn't tell the difference, was lost in his anger, his want for the thing to disappear, the wish to have his friens back by his side. Edric had never had any intention of fighting anyone, we just wanted peace.

Suddenly the sharp sound of a whistle being blown parted the storm.

Everything happened at once, then. The black tendrils that had wound tight around him, trying to strangle him, started to loosend their grip, as if the sound of the whistle had weakened them somehow. Then another noise pierced the darkness, less high but with a desperate urgency to it. A war cry.

Edric had heared that screech only once in his lifetime, and he'd never forget exactly how it sounded.

Without warning the living darkness let go of him completely. He fell. It should have frightened him, should have made him fear for his life and scream in terror, but the boy didn't. He didn't feel panic and instead turned while he fell, tried to correct his postion, to guess where was up and where was down. His mind was lighter now, brightened by certainty. He knew what would happen. No Hippogriff had ever let Edric Banes down.

Strong, powerful wings beat beneath him, and then a body hardened by muscle broke his fall. The air was forced out of his lungs by the harsh landing. Butterwing cooed at him, deep and happy, and Edric joined him with a heartfelt cheer on his next exhale.

They circled the sky as they always had, and he needed a moment to realize that the room had grown unimaginably largs, had become it's own world. It confused Edric, how a simple cabin had turned into a vast sky - Who imagined that? - but he had no time to ponder the thought as the storm suddenly withdrew and the dark nothing-thing lashed out at them, pitch black shadows clinging to the wall of the room that was somehow still there, pursuing Butterwing's flight like a hunter stalking its prey.

Before he could react however, tell Butterwing to steer clear and deeper move into the room, away from the hunters, there was Silvertalon plunging from the sky in a blurr of fury and claws. She was the proudest Hippogriff he'd ever met, she wasn't prey but predator, and ruthlessly tore into the closest shadow.

It's pained shriek was inhuman, unlike that of any living being. It shrank away from her talons and merged back into the wall, where her claws were useless against it. Edric clicked his tongue, telling her to cease, realizing that the stone made any attacks of hers futile. She'd rather hurt herself flying that close the wall with the shadows clinging to it... with a snarl she broke off, turning and flying back to their side in an impressive display of mobility.

Another screech, the sound of Edric pulled around, his hands tightening in Butterwings cream-colored feathers. Swiftfeather had appeared at their other side, her children greeting the sight of their mother with happy noises.

Her golden eyes found Edric's. They were hard and sharp, the look of a mother ready to defend her family to the death.

He wanted to cry again, to hide in Butterwings feathers, to close his eyes and ignore the shadows, to take his friends and run away from the malicious shadows that wanted to kill them. Shaking, Edric put his head against Butter's neck, and yelped a second later when the Hippogriff reared his head back, his powerfull neck connecting hard with Edric's forehead.

"What are you-" He stopped shouting when Butterwing turned his head to look at him. Three pairs of golden eyes were on him now. Butterwing cooed softly, rubbing his huge head against Edric's tiny shoulder, but caring at all that he was flying blind.

"Watch out!" he told him, scared of what could happen should be shadows attack them again. "I'm fine, go look ahead!"

He wasn't fine, he was shaking still and cold and tired, but Butterwing was warm and lovely and understanding, and so the Hippogriff induldged him and turned his head back to look out for their enemies. Silvertalon cried war now, too, and Swiftfeather echoed her. They circled the-chamber-turned-sky together, wingtip to wingtip, Edric in their midst, protected and warmed by the heat of their bodies.

They would fight. For him. Because Edric was family. He was suddenly ashamed that he had wanted to run away a few minutes ago. Hippogriffs didn't run, they fought.

But there were the shadows. They could be hurt, but not if they hid in the wall. It was their save space and Edric had no idea how to chase them off, to drive them away to wherever they had come from for good. What could hurt a shadow? Oh.

Slowly, carefully, he loosened his death grip on his wand, relaxing his number fingers. He hadn't donw it often, but Edric took te chestnut wand into his left hand, then, burying the stiff fingers of his right one in Butter's soft feathering. He pointed it at the Hippogriffs and imagined light, bright enough to drive off any darkness. It came from within each of them, warm and inviting, first a silver glow to Silvertalon, then a bronze one to Swiftfeather and last a golden shine to Butterwing, who gave a satisfied caw when the light took hold of him.

It illuminated the space around them, like a bright bubble of day in the middle of the night, a happier place surrounded by darkness and the monsters waiting there. Now for the first time Edric could see more than vague shapes, his eyes piercing the shroud of darkness on the ground, recognizing furniture, beds, and the silent, motionless forms lying admist the shadows.

The other students. He had forgotten about them in his fear, too scared to think of the other children suffering with him.

Swiftfeather shuffled beside him, suddenly twitchy, her golden eyes searching the ground. Then she looked up and met his gaze. "No, we can't leave them alone," he agreed.

We are the Lethifolds. Professor Valtome's melodic voice suddenly echoed in his head, advise and warning both. Of course. "We are the Lethifolds." Not the shadows, but them, the studets. All of them. This was their territory. Alone they were weak, but together they could be predators to those shadows. Their imagination could kill them.

"Angela!" he screamed for the first person that came to his mind. "Angela! Where are you? It's me, Edric! Angela!"

It took a while, but finally is hazel eyes found the egg the girl had designed as a bed for herself. He couldn't see her anywhere nearby, so she still had to be in there. A tug off his hand and a bit of pressure from his right leg made Butterwing turn in the right direction, Silvertalon and their mother following an instand later.

They descended towards the girl's bed in a sphere of bright light, illuminating some of the other beds as well when they closed in onto the egg.

"Angela!"

  What is real? What is not? Where is the line between? Who was she to determine what is real and what is not? Who was anyone to do so for that matter? Asteria was only twelve, she didn't hold the answer to such questions, did she? In her heart she felt like she did, in her mind she felt like she didn't, but right now, she felt that what stood before her was not real. So as she stood there in the now silent, dark room, Asteria awaited an answer. She in turn looked at the shadows as they watched her, a fire burned bright in her eyes.

  It didn't take long for Asteria to receive an answer,"We have come to eat!" the shadows responded. This time however, instead of multiple voices it sounded like one singular, familiar voice; "Professor?!" Asteria exclaimed as the shadows gathered around her and blended together. One would think fear would be the first thing on the young girls' mind, but it was far from it. Instead, what filled Asteria's mind was pure, raw annoyance and the need to defeat the shadow that threatened to consume her. 'They have got to go!' her thoughts rang out in her mind, her eyes closed. She refused to be defeated by the darkness, refused to be threatened by shadows! It was when she felt like she did not met oblivion that Asteria opened one of her green eyes, the shadows...they were no longer there.

  Opening her other eye, Asteria looked around, they were...gone? Tightening her grip on her wand, Asteria made sure to look everywhere, above, below and behind her. It was then that she felt it, a strong gust of wind briefly took her breath away as it suddenly started to blow. Asteria watched as the gust of wind blew away more of the remaining shadows; all the while struggling in the wind to keep standing. As the stormy gust blew on, its howl became louder, the sound of gale force winds filling her ears. It wasn't long before the sound of a piercing whistle took over, and the wind started to die down. "W-what? What's that sound?" Asteria muttered. Was this some kind of effect of those creatures? Unsure of what might come next, she thought over what she should do next. As it stood, Asteria was currently in a room that allows people to explore their imagination.

  Asteria thought back to her letter, this was her doing she could feel it, she had said that her imagination might have been running wild in that letter to her uncle, and it seems the room had taken notice of this. 'Oh no, the others!' what if her imagination caused the others harm?! concern filled her heart as she tried to come up with a plan. It was then that a thought spoke to her, maybe...maybe just because something is born of the imagination, that doesn't make it any less real the herself or anyone else. Asteria is a logic filled person, books and things like that are what she's goes by, but maybe somethings can be solved by thinking outside the box? But she was only a kid, what could she do?

  Darkness, it was still here even if she no longer saw the shadows, but she had to find the others. Light! Light can break through darkness. But she didn't think Lumos would be enough for this. But she couldn't cast any other light spells. Asteria's eyes lingered on her wand, but maybe she could imagine a stronger light than just hers? It sounded absolutely insane, but maybe she could use her imagination instead? If the imagination could be this powerful, then maybe it just might work? Asteria closed her eyes and imagined a giant radiating ball of  blinding blue light high in the air above her. It was enough to make her annoyance ease down and fill her with the feeling of safety, she only hoped that the light would reach the others. Still, there was a small, pang of loneliness in her hearts as she stood there by herself. ‘We are the Lethifolds’, she thought to herself. The ‘we’ was rather comforting when she thought about it, such an inclusive word. ‘We are the Lethifolds’, she continued to think, 'We are the Lethifolds’.