Requiem Open

This post is dark and could be triggering in any number of ways.
You might not want to read it if you are sensitive.

Legends speak of a draconic beast that soars across the dark void between stars, travelling fast, far, and forever as their kind feeds off the energy of wishing stars. Some accounts say that after stargazers of old mistook the creature’s flight for the passing of a comet, disasters befell the Earth. Others claim that there is no distinction between the two celestial phenomena, asserting that any comet sighting could become the next “calamity from the skies.” Particularly close passes were feared as augurs of doom, but only the rarest of buried books explained why.

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In the dream, Valentin felt his words weren’t really connecting. Anything from outside of the sanctum made little sense to Nikolai, as if spoken in foreign words, but even his mental block itself was difficult to see. For now this would have to do, decided Val. To escape Death, a wayward spirit needed to find the path back to Life before it was too late. Their realm formed a barrier to buy Nikolai time to remember the meaning of safety, tranquility, and recovery. Yet, the effort of sustaining such a hyperdetailed, immersive, and emotional realm was difficult enough that Valentin’s ability to hear faltered. Nikolai’s words came to him corroded, surreal, like recordings played by a broken mechanical golem. It hurt because it meant that Nikolai wasn’t all the way home yet… or maybe he was, but Valentin was not entirely there with him. Either way, Val couldn’t give up on truly reaching him. Never.

With his sacrifice, Valya had bought insight but only in warped, broken, sharp fragments that proved difficult to interpret. More than understanding, what he gained was raw trauma. Without further analysis, without judgment, all Valentin chose was love. Nik’s wounds were Val’s wounds, the seeker still believed, and so he followed after him in the only way he could. After all, their battles were supposed to be the same. That was the vow – one which Nikolai forsook when he left to fight alone.

Perhaps the Russian imagined he would win the support of others once he arrived, but one way or another, he did not share his struggle with blood-sworn Valentin. Thereafter it was natural for Nikolai to desire some process towards forgiveness, but once he returned home his chosen family confronted him with only unconditional acceptance. While the issue remained unspoken, Vol’ka had dealt a grave blow to Valentin by dragging promises through the mud. This much he could guess. Yet, he did not know just how deep that wound really sank. “Together we are one,” he’d said. “May our burdens be halved.” Nikolai swore with an ancient crimson rite before the gods of old, but what did such acts even mean now? A true believer could argue that Nikolai suffered righteous punishment for breaking his word: enough to nearly kill him as well as inflicting experiences arguably worse than death. Yet, Valentin only received his blood brother with healing and devotion in return for betrayal. What justice was there in this world if a Volkov could do whatever dishonest, destructive acts he pleased and only be treated as an equal of the perfectly innocent?

Valentin didn’t bring up what Nikolai’s actions did to him. An eerie cognitive dissonance hung in the shadows wherever the Sanctuary glitched out. Somewhere mixed up in that black bile was Valentin’s blood and consequences, unrecognizable from the rest of the sickening slurry.

In this beautiful place, Nikolai had uninterrupted access to Valentin’s love, but his shield was never meant to become a cage for the obliteration of reality. With time the champion’s words, calling Nikolai to rise again and free himself, became the very undoing of the heartfelt and meticulous illusions. Once a dream was discovered for what it was, its spell could be either shattered or harnessed to gain lucid wings. Rarely, this instant might even transform into a living nightmare. Ultimately, the harsh reality awaiting Nikolai would not easily take him back.

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Something was coming. Valentin could feel it like static in the air. Nothing was supposed to be capable of entering this place uninvited, but still it came. The mountain valley around them began to unravel into a hellscape gyre of blood-red fluids and shadows. Breathing in the acrid scent of toxic smoke, Val knew he mustn’t stay in human form for long. This was the sacred place where no harm could come to Nikolai and Valentin would make sure of that. With the catalyst of lightning splitting between the pair, Valentin relinquished his comforting soft form in order to become raw power for the beloved Eisprinz. At such critical moments, no less than the colddrake would suffice.

The arrival of a malevolent presence spread into the heart with shivers of dread, continuing into the body with a great shuddering of the earth. The ground opened up beneath the serpentine drake, and so Valentin dug his long claws into clods of decaying dirt slipping from a newly forming cliff. A rift cracked wide between him and Nikolai as an earthquake overtook all that once was stable. The prince cried out for the dragon to fly, fly away, but Valentin couldn’t hear his meaning anymore. Such words had become meaningless, like promises spoken after the discovery of a lie.

I' alwys home wth y Val, y knw tht.

Then why did you run away? Why didn’t you keep your word?

I lve y t Val, y knw ts.

Do you, though…? You left me behind. Didn’t want me to come. You preferred to be alone.

Through the violent shaking came a whirling, and at the middle of this centrifuge of a breaking world towered a distorted humanoid figure. Only when he turned his amethyst gaze upon it did Valya know. The reason why this being was able to intrude here was that it was, on some level, invited.

When Nikolai left, he knowingly entered a place of harm. He’d brought his dagger and went solo in order to settle some malediction. Yet, he’d never really escaped it. Here it was, still – he brought the darkness back with him. He wasn’t done. Nikolai would never be free until this entity was dealt with, permanently.

This revelation turned to fury below the heart-scale of the colddrake as it pulsated with light. The prince’s need was clear. This spirit, exuding an aura of pure cruelty, still held him captive.

Though choking on the foul atmosphere as the dragon barely clung to the rattling precipice, Valentin invoked the kernel inside that he’d hoped to never use. While Nikolai begged for Valentin to leave him and save himself, the colddrake refused.

The nature of the human heart was to harbor a teeming storm of often conflicting desires, but it was the frost captain’s task to insist on devotion to one’s most essential wish. The entire point of sending a prayer to a shooting star was to focus the will on a singular objective. Cutting through the sky in a glint of light, a flowstar’s blade of clarity would cleave away all that was unnecessary.

Stay back. I will end this for you.

Nikolai had left Valentin behind in order to take on this fight, only to flee when it became clear he could not win on his own. The prince’s decision clarified to the colddrake what he really wanted. Nikolai must have broken his blood vow for something more important to him than granting Valentin’s wish. Yet, the colddrake remained loyal, as its love did not rely on the condition of reciprocity. Such was the nature of the beast. According to one story, the drake’s greatest love could even choose to slay it and obtain its beating heart. Blacker than any worldly material, this core could then serve as the most potent focusing crystal of all. Now, accepting the loss of his own heart’s desire, Valentin would give his everything to win the battle of paramount importance for the Eisprinz.

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When soaring from star to star, the colddrake of legend was said to travel so quickly by making use of a gravitational slingshot. Yet, momentum alone could not suffice in navigating the vastness of the Void. The beast could also spread mighty wings like sails to catch passing solar winds to carry it closer in search of a home. Because the voyage across the black was so long and arduous, a drake’s need to feed was the greatest upon arriving. Once it regained enough energy the drake could then power its wings and move itself about more precisely, leaping from planetary launchpads that wouldn’t burn it up like the surface of its summoning star. Yet, in the end, such distance was not to be preserved when completing the creature’s lifecycle.

It was said that to see past the hypnotic amethyst sheen of the colddrake’s eyes was to experience the most chilling feeling of one’s life. Folklorists once pondered how a being that seemed to be made of light itself could leave such a frigid wake. It was as if its light came not from an inner burning at all, the way one would expect from a warm fire. Rather, in the drake’s presence, the air would take on a peculiar ionized note like ozone – like the smell of St. Elmo’s fire, which was not a flame at all.

Now the electrified air about Nikolai bristled with the near hum of charged particles. A war of deforming earth, sky, and dark ruby liquid overtook the domain around them as the boy’s champion spread his wings to surge directly at the figure ravaging the dream’s promise of security.

A flash blinded the eye as a shockwave threw back the colddrake’s attack, and in a sick crumple, the beast fell to the unyielding ground. With a heave of damaged ribs, black ichor gushed from the dragon’s maw, but the figure only drew closer. In a flurry of motion the dragon’s body erupted with wounds from within, an inversion of one thousand lacerations, a deep stab, and two dozen languid slices… but Valentin was not done. Though laden with wounds disintegrating in glittering clouds of luminous particles, the dragon pushed himself back up for another round. Roaring with savage rage, he jumped with claws out like lightning towards the enemy, only to be grasped by unseen hands. The cleaving began as twin forces began to tear him apart, ultimately ripping off both wings before casting him into the hard stone outcropping beside Nikolai. Away pieces of the drake dripped in glimmering cascades of dust. With two distant thuds, disembodied wings struck the bottom of the great rift, lost, yet still the colddrake only hungered more to fight. To win.

Nikolai broke into a cacophony of cries, unifying the choir of multiple versions of himself. Though pleading for this to end any other way through one more piercing shriek that lasted on and on, Nikolai’s wounds were still Valentin’s. As the drake convulsed in agony, its eyes tore from side to side trying to find where to strike, but the diabolical presence was not constrained to one human body. If only Valya could see through the storm, touch the being’s mind, and find the source of all pain, then maybe they could win. Yet, even with his keen vision, Valentin did not know his target. No one ever told him whom or what they were fighting. In all the chaos and confusion, Valya found nothing but turmoil.

Despite the stinging of his eyes, Nikolai’s shrill scream tapered off when he finally met the colddrake’s gaze. Begging Valya to save himself as he stared into two vortices of heavenly indigo riven with tall black slivers of draconic pupils, Nikolai could feel the drake’s hunger pulling him closer. The swirling maelströms of dazzling iris color beckoned with such beauty they could only be described as hypnotic.

I cannot grant wishes that conflict, the eyes seemed to say, no matter how much I love you.

The unspeakably sweet symphony of Nikolai’s sobs urged on Valentin’s ache. Twisting around to move somewhere, anywhere but the epicenter of the next strike, the dissolving dragon barely managed to roll to the side before a devastating blow sheared off a block of raw earth. Dried up petals blew by at high speeds and clipped the prince’s cheeks with small gashes. Their paradise was now a wasteland.

A caustic waterfall of black choler fell upon the dragon, then, pinning him down as heavy torrents crashed upon him. Like acid the torrent melted and splattered pieces of him away at each wound while the drake screamed out in an ethereal cry of unearthly pain. Yet, Nikolai remained untouched as if this was all a spectacle put on to torture him, to prove a point about his insignificance and force him to eat the filth of his own shame. Nikolai had “returned home” and now stood close to his dying blood-brother, but what did his escape even achieve? Valentin had failed, too, and now he could not free himself from beneath the binding flood. No matter how long he struggled, only more of his lifeforce would drain away as the stream of black magic leeched away his spirit.

Succumbing to his method of last resort, Valya closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Twisting around in a spiral within the deluge of inky poison, he began to drink. If he could simply devour this hate, this violence, this corruption all down to the last drop, then maybe this person would leave Nikolai in peace. Yet, to do so would require more than swapping places with their aggressor. Such an ending offered no solution at all. No, he would have to relinquish his body once he welcomed the very essence of the being into himself. The only way to kill it completely here would be to perish along with it. If his mortal coil survived, it would mean the death of himself as Valentin as the being overthrew his mind. Besides, Nikolai had already made his decision. The prince had abandoned his blood oath to Valya, leaving him behind in order to pursue this struggle alone. Here, now, Valentin would allow Nikolai his solitude once more by sacrificing himself for the prince’s higher priority.

Swallowing down the corrosive darkness, burning choked Valya’s throat as he welcomed the hurricane to come inside. If the being wanted to destroy him, then it would get its way… at a price. As the dragon consumed ever more of the vile flow he grew larger, larger but even as his size began to dwarf the scale of the waterfall Valentin would not waver, committed to his cause.

Forcing himself to remain motionless as the Stygian inundation filled up, permeated, and ate him away from inside, the dragon grew increasingly ill. Though yearning to pull away and vomit the rot back out, Valentin forced himself to take it. He would find a way to like it, even hunger for it so that he would not miss a single drop more. Even if it meant becoming what he hated most, Valya would finish this for the Eisprinz once and for all.

As the beast drank and drank, one glimmering amethyst eye reopened to look over into Nikolai’s with the knowledge that this would surely be the end. Staring with such brilliant color that his gaze appeared ultraviolet, the dragon’s elongated form rippled with undulating currents of torment. One could get lost forever inside the iridescent aurora of a colddrake’s glowing stare, and yet, the Eisprinz was not satisfied. Digging fiercely into those void-black depths of slit pupils, Nikolai looked deeper inside of Valentin. This was not all he was, not everything they could be. Looking beyond all its mesmerizing radiance, Nikolai came to know the true chill of devotion.

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Never in his hard-knock Russian life had Nikolai felt so cold. It was like touching the void itself, how frigid and empty and simple that blackness was deep inside this serpent of light. How was it that such a dark creature could glow so bright? Inside the dragon’s eye, the Eisprinz found a most unexpected freedom. Here was nihil, here was the death of ego, superego, and id. Within this creature lie infinite power, to create, to destroy, to preserve, but it came without any restrictions or guidance. At once the prince understood he could use this to become anything, to do anything, without limits. He could be a Volkov. He could be Nikolai Vol’ka. He could redefine himself a million times over. Yet, he need not stop there. With enough resources, he could rewrite the world, could achieve his goal no matter the cost. In time, he could become so formidable that even his family would come to cower at his feet. The colddrake would toil to no end to grant Nikolai any wish without judgment and still love him unconditionally, forever.

Gazing back into Nikolai’s eyes, Valentin prepared himself to die and take their enemy down with him. Believing this to be the way to fulfill the prince’s wish, a blink of his violet eye was all he could offer as a goodbye. The river of darkness trickled to a stop, but now the being was nearly fully inside him. With his long tongue he began lapping up what he could of the remaining fluid from puddles on the ground. However, there was only so much he could continue to swallow as he fought the urge to retch, to expunge the plague from within. Moving listlessly as he searched for another sizzling pool, Valya would look at Nikolai no more. There was no reason to hurt him with what was sure to come next. He had to find a place now to obliterate this filth before it could finish by taking over his mind.

Without wings and engorged with pestilence, the drake could not leave Nikolai’s sight easily even so near the jagged rim of the rift. Valentin hoped that the real world would receive his counterpart with grace. He had fought so hard for the prince’s better future. Yet, Nikolai would not let Val go quietly.

Running up to fling his arms across the colddrake’s jaws, Nikolai pulled at the massive beast as if to open his mouth. The skin of his arms hissed in contact with drips of the acidic toxin, but he did not relent. Wrestling with every graceful ounce of his thin body’s strength, the Eisprinz cried out:

"Please Val, my wish is for us to be a proper family, away from him forever. Don't let him take you like he took me."

… But this was not the wish Nikolai sought before. This was not the boy’s goal when he left without help and threw himself into his chosen underworld.

Valentin resisted. He couldn’t just spare himself and abandon Nikolai’s superior wish. No matter how much the dear prince cried and begged now, Valentin could not give up on the boy’s highest pursuit. He had to accomplish his mission no matter how emotional the moment.

Yet, Nikolai’s pleas continued. Sobs wracked the boy and his lips burst with shrieking. Demons crawled inside of Valentin as the being within him wrought ever new kinds of pain and sickness throughout his body, promising release from the torment if only he would relinquish control. It was only a matter of time until it would find a strategy that worked, and Val knew it. Yet, here beloved Nikolai was, wrapped around his maw crying. Hurt. Wishing. The prince’s whole body ached and burned with the struggle to open the dragon’s mouth, and as the other’s wounds were his own, Valentin felt Nikolai’s pain. Maybe Valya had made a mistake. Perhaps things didn’t really have to end this way. A better future might still be possible. Even if it meant losing the battle against Nikolai’s affliction now, perhaps they could find a better way to do this… together.

My wish is for us to be a proper family, away from him forever.

The words were clear, and they were the only ones that still aligned with Nikolai’s actions. Valya had to believe in Nikolai. He had to trust that he would make this all make sense. Relaxing the tension in his jaw, the colddrake opened his mouth.

Everything captured inside came streaming out with such force that it exploded. An all-consuming light burst forth so intense that the world around them disappeared. No opaque objects, no shadows, no darkness remained. Everything transformed into pure white illumination. Nikolai would feel that even the drake was gone as Valentin’s human body wrapped entirely around him.

“…… Alright.”

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In the medical ward, Valentin remained comatose even as some kind of seizure overtook Nikolai. Shortly thereafter the white seeker could be seen twitching as well, even falling from his side onto the ground with one particularly strong jerk of his muscles. With time these minor movements grew more severe as he, too began to spasm wildly. Although not seizing to quite the severity as Vol’ka, there was still something uncanny about them both succumbing at more or less the same time. Valentin’s episode did not last as long as the other’s, either, but in the process his eyelids ended up closed by the time he came to face the ceiling.

Nik, Hans, and Romeo may godmod Val freely. If Emery wants to godmod him please check with me OOC to coordinate because Val’s situation is complicated.

Val’s next post will include a reply to unaddressed recent posts (including Romeo’s), which are not yet undertaken here for reasons of length.

In the last moments of a life it is said that a person's life flashes before their eyes. A museum of memories curated specifically for their viewing. No one could say with any real certainty what the halls of their mind would summon for how one equates an entire life into a series of moments. Disproving the masses Nikolai knew exactly what he would see when the pearly gates granted him entrance, he would see his brothers all six of them. Moments that to others would seem so inconsequential: late night chats, conversations over breakfast, arguments they had fought over. He would hear the soothing laughter when he read Vik's letters and feel the breath of air from high above the London stadium rush his skin. All simplicities that every person experienced but to Nikolai they were the summation of his family, the one he chose and the very reason he was facing death. If this was to be his end he would go out knowing that regardless of his upbringing he had experienced love. Nikolai Volka was loved and that was enough.
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No hesitation was given, no trepidation in the cold drakes demenaour, not even a hint of remorse or regret. Valya adopted the same role the had played in a lifetime of endeavours. The sacrificial lamb in another story, a fooled delusion inspired by devotion. Valentine Schnell was so consumed by the proposed self failures of his past encounters that his actions were bound in scarred tissue, gnarled under the pressure of a crime he was never guilty of. Valentine, pain eater would commit his final act of servitude in a life marred by it. Literally opening his mouth he became the very consumer of Nik's darkness, swallowing bile and venom in the blatant knowledge that he would not survive this time. These demons were too ghastly, they lived under Nikolai's skin interwoven in the very fabric of his being. A parasitical force that wore away at the boys sunshine reclaiming it with twisting shadow. There would be no freedom in leaving even a fragment, unless entirely drained the shadows would remerge, the darkness reclaim. Inevitability suggested this was not simply a course of whether they'd survive but rather which one would and Valya's heart was selfish in devotion. The choice was hardly one at all. It would be himself.

It was unclear to the young Russian if he was even still alive but he certainly felt akin to death. The most unnatural cold festered where the darkness spilled out, the harrow touch of death lingering in his veins, along his skins, between every sinew and tissue. The darkness was so engrained in his physical being, in his very DNA that the removal was killing him. It would leave him with new strands free to develop and grow but he would never feel whole again. His life force had been conjoined to the dark for much to log, left to steep in its void of light that to separate it would require sacrifice one way or another. He couldn't exist without the stain of it carving his skin and he couldn't live with the fear of it warping his mind. Mikhail had ensured there would be no winning this regardless of what they did. Valya's sacrifice would be in vain and somehow those empyreal eyes still couldn't see the blatant truth.

Nikolai had left for the very reason that to enforce their bond would have ended with Valentine's death. Fate would have sewn it into the fabric of reality a thread unravelling everything and Nikolai wouldn't have it. His choice had been devised for the survival of his brothers and now he was to watch him perish anyways and the drake actually had the audacity to try and turn away from him. Burdening even the end alone so completely tormented by his own perceptions that he felt he had to hold the world afloat alone. Well fuck that, without Valentine he wouldn't have lived even a day. Nikolai would have become nothing more than a false portrait in the history of a dark family, a shell housing the puppetries of an evil man that cared nothing for him. His heart would not have soured to new heights on Val's wings and his life would have been meaningless for it would never have belonged to himself in the first place.

The blanket of gold seeped into his skin with such gentle devotion he was sure it was the presence of an angel, a saviour he couldn't see. Radiant layers of glowing sunlight began to overcome him fighting the strains of darkness that held him on the verge of death giving him the strength to move. Light so fine and delicate that it glistened under his skin an expanse of stars illuminating flesh, rejuvenating wounds. Whispering words intended only for his ears, a declaration of love, a desperate plea, a reassurance, "Help him. Please." The trembling voice of Hans with its low register of distress was instead impassioned here. Emboldening him, impowering him to reach forward, to take his healing words with him and use them to break the chain. A generational cycle of torment inflicting wounds relentlessly but not irreparably. Hans' words were the steps he needed to make it to the cold drake mouth, they were the strength in his arms as they fought again the creatures jaw, they were the amplification that took his voice from timid warbles, undecipherable and warped to crystal clarity. It was his power that drove Nikolai's message home, that was to say to Valentine, not the cold drake but his home, his Valenka.

Nikolai knew that his words had worked they just had to settle in, they had to reach the boy within the drake. So he sobbed, with all the tidal wave of emotion he could summon and he fought with all the vigour he was capable. Relentless they would be bound in battle but if still the boy refused then at least his own wish may have been fulfilled. For someone truly loved him enough to sacrifice it all, Nikolai was willing to live with a lifetime of darkness if it meant they could do it together. In shadow there would always be his white star, in shadow there would always be his kindred flame. Survival was possible for both, a choice was possible to live with the binds knowing they'd be incomparable to the heights he would reach. Malleable were these chains limited only by the power he gave to them. Every act of the boy would consolidate the truth of his wish and Val couldn't resist his own binds in this way. The white star was dictated by his wishes and despite the perceived betrayal, the oath breaker's abandonment he wanted to believe this wish to be true.

When the jaws slacked and corruption released the resulting explosion threw him back blindingly every trace of him doused in its poison seeping into his skin once more, reclaiming him. Yet now where darkness coalesced under his skin the thin line of darkness had transcended now bound in a double helix with two brighter wraps lacing throughout. One stark white and another bright yellow, the sun and the stars forever holding him. Then all the world fell away and he existed in the great expanse of light with no edges or shadow to twist angularly simply bright space and the arms of his brother were upon him.

“Alright.”
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The arrival of company to the scene had brought about major changes to the atmosphere of the room. Hans had summoned the headmaster through sheer urgency and while the impressive caster was unable to decipher the best course of action with so little information, much to the devastation of the young German ward, he used his intelligent mind to cast a healing charm that was very likely instrumental in saving his life. Had Nikolai's throat remain clogged with blood and bile he may have lost air control and silently gone into the arms of the unknown. Instead he had wretched up the stuff but remained unconscious regardless. Whatever the affliction was it went deeper than simply damaged flesh and injury. Something was holding the boy under and such psychosomatic issues had to be fought from both sides.

Similarly across from the young Russian the older Durmstrang seeker lay comatose an almost direct reflection of the younger counterpart. The hulking figure of Romeo leaning over him desperately seeking answers and equipped with a whole array of healing spells, balms, ingredients, and perhaps the most powerful tool, love. Seeing his captain, his friend, his potential for more slipping away again was hollowing. No matter what he did though the boy would not rise, his observations would draw him to every conclusion and a scan of the seekers body would reveal a newer scar to his palm that seemed almost ceremonial. Confusion befuddled his brain as he lost himself to frantically panicked ideas of what the boy had done, he was self sacrificial at the best of times but recently his devotion to this young blonde had inspired a new wave of intensity towards such paths. Desperation was sickly thick in the air as both beds were shaken with the force of their individuals love.

Jenssen wasn't the intellect of the two of them, much to his seething frustration, but when the other option was to accept Nikolai's death the world would be damned. The boy would find a way to tell him what he needed, he had to. That was his job, to be the ever relentless smart ass of the two of them and then gloat over the fact. So why wasn't he doing it, where was his stupid smirk and merlin even his taunting laugh. No Nik couldn't leave him it was unacceptable, not like this with their last true conversation being outside the shit stain that was Hogwarts of all places. A place that had destroyed him that was always causing issues for the school excursions. The lightning that struck his mind was reminiscent of Nik's own eyes, a flash of brilliance in the warring of his internal monologue. Occom's razor was the theory that sometimes the simples of answers was the right one, the spell was simple rudimentary at best but easily overlooked by an older wizard. Whereas the youthful boys had only just learned such spells, it was fresh, it was perfect, it had to be.

If the spell served its purpose it would wake Nikolai from his rest, reviving him and saving him. Well Hans was quite determined that the spell would have no choice in that, for he would render the very power of the universe if he had to. Bend fate to his will if it would save him. Only the world as always had other ideas and upon the receival of the 'gift' from the traitorous owl he knew he would gladly set it alight just as he had with the rest of the Volkov's possessions. Anything to free Nik of the stain of his family. But would he truly do anything, as he opened the box hastily adamant in his disinterest for if the item was cursed his mind altered red haze filtering into his vision. The note was instantly crumpled, disgust rising in his stomach and stamped upon for good measure revealing the dagger bloodstained and haunting. It seemed to whisper to him, lacing imaginations of revenge and the twisted cruelties that would be so easy to mark with its fine cut. The moment was chilling and haunted Hans to his very core. Could he really be capable of that?

Stolen away from the dark lurking of his inner demons, Professor Albrecht refocussed the troubled youth to the room and within instants he was reunited with his goal. Gripping his wand like a vice he recalled moments sat around the dinner table in Berlin. Running into his wary father's arms after returning from a long day of surgery, healing someone without even the gifts of magic. Even if the boy didn't always want to admit it he was a perfect balance of his parents a union of their souls given form. Whether he knew it or not the ability to heal lay within his very DNA. Every soul his father had healed and blessed with a new life had to matter in the great balancing of the universe. If one Jenssen was capable of such miracles then he could follow in the footsteps, he had to. The spell spilled from his lips like a wish and followed by declarations of necessity, heart breaking willpower merging with the spell and weaving with hope and love it was everything he was capable of. Hans may have not been the enchantments enthusiast of the two but he was their confident front and while often it was a mask right now Nikolai needed it. He needed belief and strength and Hans would infuse him with it through any way he could.

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The grooves of his body intertwined with the white seeker like puzzle pieces fitting together completing the image of them. Twin wounds littered their now truthful visages, here there were no fantasy landscapes to evoke peace, no external comforts, only the pleasure of reunion. In its healing honesty he felt safe. There was no wool pulled over his eyes, no rush to his journey and more than anything no possibility for shadow. Here in the arms of his brother he was safe. The silence wormed into the space between them with Valentine's acceptance still hanging in the air but it wouldn't last long as another voice entered the space.

"Rennervate" the boy spoke, no demanded. Refusal solidifying his resolve and empowering the magic with his love Nikolai felt himself begin to drift, untethered from the plane he felt as feet ground him began to fade vanishing into the bright expanse. Whatever magic Hans' was summoning ran far deeper than the simple spell, it was innate - a manifestation of his own intent, his seemingly forlorn attempt reshaped with desire and passion to allow it to succeed. Nikolai could feel the tug of his chest drawing him back willing himself back to his summoner and he would go willingly but not before he was ready, for this was the world of his own creation. Yet Kolka couldn't deny the warmth of the healing magic tempting him back.

"Valentine it's time we woke up. You have to stop drawing from the bond it's hurting you. I'm safe I promise, you don't have to hurt anymore." Despite his disappearing form Nik never withdrew his presence from where it rested in Valentine's arms, he would fade eventually but he would never leave the boy again by choice. There was so much safety in their protective bubble and certainty ran through him enhanced by the drifting comfort of Hans words that flooded the space bodiless but emotive, “Look, all the enemies are gone. They’ll never come back again. Because you saved the day, my Eisprinz, you always do, in fact you’re so fucking good at it it’s infuriating. But now I need you to wake up, okay? Or you won't have time to eat breakfast before class. Wake up, Nikolai, I can't survive history of magic without your jokes. I'm sure you don't need me to hex you, right?” Tears like liquid light dusted down his face. In tragedy truth was revealed and the truth was that Nikolai was beloved, perhaps only by a few and not all that he wished but he was.

The only inaccuracy was that he had saved the day, it was the pair of them responsible for that, his forever guardian angels. Two individuals that put him before themselves time and time again despite his wishes against. Bonds so strong that even his betrayal couldn't break them. It may not happen instantly and it would be a hard road but forgiveness was possible under the light radiance of their shared love. Hans wasn't the only voice that broke into the space between them, in fact a similar declaration was being made only metres away as powerful and determined as the younger Durmstangian. Layered with history and marred by past mistakes Romeo's words were heavy but important against the backdrop of the healing spell he repeated endlessly, "Come back here! Dammit, you can't leave me like this!" Watchful eyes sought their empyreal counterparts removing his head from the rest at Val's heart to watch him while he drifted away. Nikolai would not speak as they heard the declarations but words would pass in the way he held his stare, being with him through this no matter what.

As Romeo's pain continued to filter through Kolka would be unable to resist a gentle smile, his eyes warming more an ocean in colour with dots of water playing at the corners, ease settling in a pained form,"Not when I love you. Dammit, now you've made me a fool. Fffff... I can't find any other way. Why I let this happen, why I keep coming back. I probably would have cuffed Piérre upside the head by now if it were him in this state and not you. Little bastard would've had it coming." While the rest of the statement was merely a ramble, a highlight of his frustration Nikolai's arms had wrapped a little tighter upon the declaration. It was everything Valentine had ever wanted and he couldn't help but hope his actions hadn't ruined it. There had to be a million feelings rushing through the boy at the minute and Nik only wished to comfort him through it. Placing his chin on his torso he dismayed in the inability to read the boys mind like he had his but Nikolai wasn't a mind-reader, he was no seer or diviner of fate. Valentine's reaction would remain a mystery to him but in his mind he only wished it was a comfort to him.

"You kissed me and I loved it. I don't know why or how, but... I don't know what to think. I didn't want to believe it, I don't know how to rectify it. I... You're not going to die. Not like this. You're not going to die, because I will drag you by your ankles back to the realm of the living if you try to kick it now. I am tired of losing my loved ones, and I especially can not let myself lose you. So you are going to wake up. You are going to wake the hell up, and I am going to at least once tell you just how much I love you or I take it to my grave with me if you choose go to your own." The admission was so heavy, so burdened and so lathered in a depth of love Nikolai couldn't possibly understand at just thirteen. Unknowing what to do he simply took Val's hand in his own and raised it up to the seekers own heart pressing it into the silks of his robe until the beating could be felt underneath. Nikolai wanted him to feel it, to hear the heartbeat within his own chest and derive the truth from it. The older boy had been scorned, broken and betrayed but his heart still beat, he was still capable of love, maybe more so than ever yet only he himself could read the rhythm that beat within.

“…Come back to me, Nikolai. I love you. You know how much I love you.” Twin sentiments from two boys both begging reunion with their loves. One romantic, secretive, a realisation built over countless years now longed for upon the moment it may be too late. The other reassurance, a vow that no matter what happened between them their love was universal, it was infinite and unconditional. A discovery and an affirmation, both wilfully real, and powerfully honest.

Fading flickering him out like candlelight he offered Valentine his hand and held the others in his own circling his palm soothingly as he spoke echoing his words from earlier, "It's time to go, you made a choice today Val. To live without sacrifice, I hope you stick to it, for you owe it to yourself." In the boys eyes faded grey began to dot with blotted spots of blue, absorbing light from the star before him in enrichment. Then without another word the candle snuffed and he found his breath grow harder, felt the struggle of weighty limbs and dull pain of bruised skin. Nikolai's reality was taking shape once more and leading him back to the physical world, back to where his body lay broken but protected by the blessing of his sun. Suffering was inevitable but also clarifying and he knew what he needed now. There was a different way, a better way and he would start it. Nikolai didn't destroy his darkness today but he did find the strength to confine it.

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With a rush of inhaled breath Nikolai's eyes shot open finalising his transition and actively choosing life. The boy was conscious and breathing and though every fibre of his being existed in pain and warned him against he found himself stretching over for his protector. Coughing slightly as he did little bits of blood and dirt from the clearing of his windpipe expelling from his throat. "Please don't hex me alright." The words choked him in an attempt at laughter but he was crying the spectrum of his emotions as complex and contradictory as possible. Crying to be back with him, crying from everything that had happened, crying that he needed to ask his friend what came next. To tell them that it wasn't yet over, that they still had more to do. Fear of the implications, fear of the rejection, fear that it wasn't enough and would never be but hope the most dangerous of all. Hope that there was a chance this chapter of his life was coming to an end, that he could change the ending entirely.

"Please don't heal me anymore." His voice barely a whisper on the boys neck, so little not even strands of his brown hair would be disturbed. Nikolai could do this, Hans' strength was his own he simply had to wield it. Louder he announced to the room heavy breaths staggering his chest under the immense weight of pain and pressure, "Please don't heal me. I need your help Hans." Pulling away from him he watched as the younger boys face contorted in confusion and whatever other emotions he could hardly distinguish under the warring emotion of it all. Before he could speak though, before he could force the issue or chide him for the ridiculousness Nikolai had to explain, "Please Hans, I need you to get my camera and-" In the distance created between them his vision focused the edges of his world rebuilding like it was rendering back into solid material from the aether revealing the new headmaster. Heart stinging with the sharp memory of Marishka Shtriga he faltered momentarily before his determination won out "- ah headmaster you're here that makes this simpler. Professor I was hoping you could contact the Russian Ministry for me and any colleagues you had from your days as a barrister."

Most students likely wouldn't have recalled the history of their ex runes professor but Nikolai had very little other to do his first two years in Durmstrang. Utterly alone and escapism only existing in the binds of leather and papyrus he knew more history of Durmstrang and it's inhabitants than anyone. Not to mention that when the man had been appointed a role at Durmstrang his father had warned each of his children against associating with him. Whatever had happened between them he had no idea, perhaps simply the ideology of operating on separate sides of the law was enough but today it was his path forward. Today the man he was warned against would be the third hero of his story. A small smile greeting him like an old friend and eyes flashing with a singular streak of electric blue he watched the pair and ever so calmly said, "With you both as my witness I'd like to press charges against Mikhail Volkov."

Allowing whatever mess to break from the pair with his declaration he found his head drift fluidly to the side watching where Romeo still desperately clung to Valentine his face as emotionally complex as his own had been. A knowing smile etched into his features with empathetic eyes as he spoke weakly across to the large Italian, "He can hear you but he has to make the choice himself." Eyes falling down to his hand he took one in the other and traced the outline of their bonded scar reminiscing over the power of the moment and the fracture it had sustained, heart heavy but beating he wished into his hand a final time, come back to those who love you.

Roleplaying as Hans Jenssen

And so the story continues. They say to be a star you must first burn so the Eisprinz did, burnt so much he could no longer, eager to guide the way for those close to him but never sparing some of that fire for himself. Yet he underestimated the power of a single spark, for it can never be snuffed out entirely. Though having been but another inanimate decoration in his parents’ household of picture perfect portraits, it came as no surprise. Wordlessly, as the northern wind beckoned his flames and the mountain grass nurtured his roots the spark struggled against the world’s unforgiving coldness. Against pain, the ones on his skin and in his flesh from the past few days’ exposure, but more so the ones carved onto his heart, criss-crossed with the scars which only made its immense power to love all the more admirable. Just like him that spark was a fighter, and soon enough it ate its way through its kindling, a small, barely significant hope cradled tenderly by the breeze, flickering in and out, threatening to disappear under snow any second. But that, the weak pulse, was enough for his beating heart.

Clinging onto the bare remnants of faith he waited it out until the springtime, persevered long enough while desperate to keep the sparks burning. His efforts proved worth it, for soon his flames licked at the edges of a lush forest, latching on to the source of its life with relief as it finally found its anchor. While his white star shined in the distance, coaxing him back to life as the colddrake released his darkness, the Eisprinz’s spark grew, for he knew in a world still rampaged with the plague the only thing he could do was banish it away forever. So hungrily he tore through the timber determined that if he would ever fall, it would be only back into the loving arms of his family. As he woke back into his original self, the world grew lit with passion.

And here comes the ending Hans always loved, even time after time of repetition.

And they lived happily ever after.


A miracle was probably not too far off from the sight before Hans.

To clarify, his miracle. Not of God, Stribog, the deities or the dead -- he had always been hesitant to believe them and he was surely certain that today was not the day for Jesus to turn water into wine. However magical it seemed no other person could have taken credit when Hans' casted that spell.

Perhaps it was only fit that from a young age he looked wide-eyed at his father’s profession, despite the drab promise of six years in med school, for little more was more miraculous than bringing those on death’s door back, bringing life into those deemed gone, and sending them back to their weeping, joyous family. Then he did not understand at all the mechanics of his job, and in all fairness, he understood little of it today either, but he did not need to to see the light his father brought to their lives. Whether in his parents’ or this world, there was no magic of a more glorious kind than the one that restored, helped, and saved.

But it was not entirely fair either how Nikolai had dismissed himself as his own saviour. Just as the boy may ardently argue he was no damsel in distress, waiting in a distant tower to be rescued by his two knights, one, to add to the mess, still remained incapacitated, he fought against death’s bonds enough to loosen them for Hans to break them. Nikolai himself and his darnedest resilience was the only reason Hans could have done anything further. There was no inaccuracy.

Leaving Hans that night — for he refused to do bluntly characterise it as betrayal; it was not — may have threatened to break their friendship but it never did him. Attempted murder didn’t break him, nor did trekking through the perilous wilds of Durmstrang’s surroundings, and having already made it so far, nothing else would be allowed to either. Despite the medicines of the Muggle world or spells of the Wizarding one nothing could be done in the snap of a finger and no healing could ever be done without the will to live. Nikolai had done his part in safely returning into open arms, Hans had done his as he cast the reviving spell, now it was only Nikolai's turn again to be his own angel, and simply wake up. So, always with that damned halo of righteousness he bore, he did. To be precise it was not his own miracle, but theirs.

Yet something more than sheer spellwork had brought Nikolai back from the brinks. By no means was it some sort of holy divine intervention, nor would it be fair to brush it off with one word saying it had simply been his unwavering determination. All the same claiming it had been the grand power of love would have seemed too trite, too romanticised, too otherworldly for how dire the situation still seemed. What Hans had drawn on as he still steadfastly sat as the once unconscious boy’s anchor was something that ran deeper than his individual.

The incantation had been a declaration, as much of one as his father’s, a good thirty some years ago when he, just a middle schooler at that time, had claimed before a huddled, barely united family of his plans to study medicine. The incantation had been a demand, as much of one as his mother’s, after having just returned from the faraway Hogwarts, when she had written furious letters to her father, not taking no as an answer at the horrors she saw. The product of his parents was one side’s talent for the art of healing combined with, if not the magic, than the utter, undeniable drive that ran through the other’s veins. A meeting point for the dichotomy of surprisingly conflicting personalities, he channeled both into what might as well have been nuclear fission.

When Nikolai's sudden inhale jolted a worried Hans from his side he found the dishevelled appearance of his just awoken brother stretch over to him despite the pain obviously etched in even a movement so seemingly easy. Responding he held him because if Hans was going to be anything he was going to be there. Eyes watching intently with trepidation as Nikolai coughed again it offered him slight reassurance that he was no longer choking on the clots of blood and dirt previously lodged inside his windpipe but still he felt he as if he could barely think.

“Yeah... no... yeah,” he said, as Hans too attempted a laugh that sounded far too removed from a usual chortle of joy, words a jumbled mess as he tried to get out them at a pace too fast for his tongue to keep up with.

“It’s alright… I won't hex you, just don't ever do that again.” Though meant as a feigned threat the words came out more as a desperate imploration. Tracking the tears still rampant down Nikolai’s cheeks he was about to wipe them away just as he had done that night a world away at the Mistletoe Spin, yet he found himself unable to as his own tears were not much better in control.

“It’s alright,” he repeated, “You’re back, you’re safe. It’s alright.” If he reiterated enough he could have convinced the both of them.

However as he would have expected Nikolai’s next words only brought bewilderment has Hans properly heard him. At first the decibels had been a bare murmur against his neck, sound waves not even strong enough to stir his strands of hair. He was going to chide the barely coherent boy out of the ridiculous ramblings, why wouldn’t he be healed after all? How could Hans bare to see him through more pain when the solution to ease him out of it was placed right before them? Following so much pain it was the least he could do to just rest. About to interject when Nikolai asked him to retrieve his camera for seemingly no reason his thoughts were cut off as Nikolai also interrupted himself when Professor Albrecht must have entered his view. At first Hans would have no idea what the boy was talking about as he mentioned the man’s history in law, nor did he care for a biography when clearly that was not what he needed. Though of course Nikolai would prove to be more devious than expected as he always did, for of course his Eisprinz had something up his little sleeve, and of course this time was no different from any other when Hans would stand by his side through it all.

“With you both as my witness I'd like to press charges against Mikhail Volkov.”

In spite of the impassive calmness of the statement the weight of Nikolai’s declaration hung heavily in the room, but life was no courtroom show, and there will be nothing of the melodramatic gasps or breaking-out ruckus, merely a gentle squeeze on the still tightly clasped hand of his brother. Returning that smile he loved — a beautiful, familiar, wondrous little smile despite however small it might have been — with a flash of his own twinning mirror, eyes harbouring the same sparkle they must have shown a million times before as mischief crept into a mind as cunning as it did was defiant. Yet today something was different from the usual grin before a tongue-in-cheek comment about a professor no one liked, or the secretive raise of eyebrows when traps were set for the idiotic annoyances who deserved them. Gone were merely a glint of reflection of a diamond under lights, and taking its place was the early morning sun breaking through the wispy clouds that had gathered overnight determination shining through a forlorn mess he refused to let become all-consuming. A purpose that made him feel greater than his individual of almost thirteen years was closure — finally closure — on his best friend’s first and most hideous chapter.

Childhood. What an odd thing. At some point almost everyone had complained with such ardency of how much they wish for it to be left behind. Not quite a period in his life that had ended but looking back it was a myriad of first times. The first picture Hans ever drew was one of family — his, to be precise, and this one small word mattered the world. The great Picasso masterpiece of a nursery student to be hung up on the fridge. Three stick figures — the shortest one in the middle, one with flowing hair and a triangle dress to the right, one with serious glasses and hair that stood straight up to the left. They stood under a crayoned rainbow, pleasantly smiling with crescents for mouths just the way his teacher had taught him. A child’s first art piece but too mundane to be framed, yet too precious to throw away.

For the majority of his life Hans thought his family a curse. They were an imperfect family. They had nights where when everyone just wanted to go to bed after a long day they still shouted and slammed doors and blamed each other for things completely out of their control. But not unalike many other families, what they were not was unhappy. In moments of darkness one storm cloud may seem able to forever overshadow the sun yet that star would not stop burning for another five billion years. Even if Hans would not care to admit it he loved his parents and he knew they loved him back in return. Yet that was exactly the nature of family: too mundane to be framed, yet too precious to throw away. It look him very long to realise his curse was also known as a privilege to some.

One battle may have left them battered and bruised, but the war was far from over.

With such sheer determination as theirs, it would never be until they stand victorious. Out of the many things he had been taught one especially prevalent that had led to heated arguments with classmates and teachers having no idea what to do with him, was to never stay silent in the face of injustice. Both his parents were steeped in rebellion, one raised by a single mother who fought vociferously against the wall that separated her and her husband, the other who refused to be a part of a treacherous world, and although it was a choice he once found cowardly, it was steadily dawning on him how Greta’s actions were admirable. Unlike how the purebloods of his acquaintance were educated to be seen and not heard Hans knew when to rise up against figures who only seemed stronger in faux. In truth they were only fit to lay wreckage upon those weaker than them, before scuttling into the corners at the sight of those stronger. They only inflict damage to feel powerful and better about their pathetic excuses of lives, and Hans for one had no plans of standing around while their target was trained on a person so close to his heart.

Admittedly bringing the crime — for that was in fact the perfect word for Mikhail's atrocities, if not a downplay at that — to court was not the option that had first came to his mind in the vehement moment, knife in hand. In contrast to the disturbing thought he would rather categorise as one purely intrusive, Nikolai's solution seemed not only a much more mature suggestion but one at least that did not adamantly cross his qualms with violence. How could he not want to charge at them and lodge the thing into their backs?

Yet however justified the action might be Hans had to remind himself yet again that more bloodshed, after he had not only seen deaths in mass but lost so much of his own, was the least of what his brother needed. He wished that burning fire could be doused so easily but just like in the story once the flame catches ahold of something it refuses to stop. It seemed so easy on paper to focus on healing the damages rather than cleaning up the wretches in this world for good. He could not understand how that was justice. He could not just sit with it. Hans could not do it.

Yet all the same he could not be like them. Suppressing that wildfire was no easy task, but looking at Nikolai, he knew he had to, if only for the time being.

Forcing himself into a change of emotions he realised just as that day in the springtime Hans felt pride. Nikolai had already done enough, had already done so much. The Durmstrangnian nature of fearlessness was what the two young dragons had always meant to embody. Every step away from his family was not a fall further away from grace but another labouring step towards it. With kin being rooted so deeply into identity it often was as difficult to escape as running from one’s own shadow, an endeavorer sure to seem hopeless with the belief of being forever entangled in blood. In October Nikolai had wept to him with the utmost conviction that he would never be anything better than them, yet to Hans even the mere act of trying to wrestle away from their bonds was one more honourable than his father would ever be. Hans, however, despite presenting himself with such feistiness, harboured a need for validation far too great; he doubted that, if the time ever came, not that it would, he could have made the same decision himself. So Volkov had not seen his disownment as the end despite the decisive bonfire that had erupted in their room? Fine, they would make it.

Despite realising he still haven't given a verbal response to Nikolai's charges against his father it would be obvious to the blond that he was giving nothing less than his full support only through his eyes. Just to reinforce what was already so clearly known still grasping Nikolai's hand tightly in his from Hans' lips out spilt words fluidly, “Yes, of course, yes, we're doing that.” Feeling a little breathless after an amalgamation of eagerness, joy, and relief, he let out one final confirmation softly uttering the word against Nik's body, still partly in disbelief, “Yes….”

Letting go of him reluctantly he pushed himself upwards with one trusting glance towards Albrecht, whom Nikolai had ensured to handle his legal procedures. Having just helped in saving the boy's life Hans had no concerns of leaving the him in the hands of a man who had taken the helm of a sinking ship and somehow kept it afloat, yet despite so he had to tug himself away. He didn’t want to leave him, not even for a second but eventually he managed to force out, “Let me go get the camera to record the evidence. I will be right back, okay? Promise.

“And rest, Nikolai, professor Albrecht will look after you. Please just rest.” His work was done. Nikolai had pushed through, he had lived, and he had grander plans for the sake of justice served. Now all he needed to do was rest, keep steady, and hold on. Hold on, because if this was a fairy tale, all fairy tales had happily ever afters. Taking one look back at his brother, Hans quickly refocused on his goal as he broke into the same sprint as he had first sensing his returned presence. The last of what he wanted would be for him to keep on suffering while he dawdled in retrieving the device.

Through tears still not fully dry a smile snuck onto Hans’ face despite himself, as the familiar corridors blended into one destination ahead.

@Matthew Campbell as Nikolai Vol'ka, @Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood as Valentin Schnell, @Piérre Marchonné as Romeo Marchonné, @Emery Albrecht

Motif The disapproval of cowards is praise to the brave.	Languages German English Russian French Spanish Japanese Swahili Samoan	Age 44
Mentioning/Interacting @Piérre Marchonné as Romeo Marchonné @Matthew Campbell as Nikolai Volkov @Aida Mòrsgor-Ama Ellwood as Valentin Schnell @Archer Duncan as Hans Jenssen	Location Durmstrang	IC Date As stated

Requiem

xxxxxEmery nodded compassionately as the panicked voice resounded in the room, ‘I don’t know the specifics… but I think you can see for yourself. Val had been unconscious since I came here but Nikolai just passed out, I don’t know what happened.’ Emery was apprehensive as he analysed the severity of the situation further. Two students in comas, one in danger of choking, one showing no signs of physical harm, suggesting magical causes or distress. Albrecht was certain that he would be the only answer to their problems. However, he was solely a wizard, perhaps a qualified wizard, but saving lives was never his strong suit. He stepped forward to check on Nikolai closer as he saw the young boy’s eyes flutter and open. Yet, they were not blue as Emery remembered them, no they were cloudy and distressed, unnatural in the face of the hospital wing. “Anapneo” had not been enough and Emery would have to move forward with stronger spells.

Yet, as he was thinking this, a sudden owl appeared, a dangerous looking one, screeching its entrance, a parcel in its claws. Emery’s eyes widened as a strange thought entered his mind. It couldn’t be the Volkovs’ could it be? Did that mean that the young boy was connected to the family? It had been years since Emery had even thought of this family and he could have never expected it to happen here at Durmstrang of all places. His breath caught as he saw the dagger and it was confirmed that it was indeed the Volkovs’ who were involved in this pain and suffering. Albrecht had been involved in criminal affairs, and this family had been the defining aspect of life for ages, almost an obsession. In his days as a barrister and eventually in the secret services of the government the Volkovs’ had been his goal to convict and bring justice, but it hadn’t happened. It had not happened because of the work of a mole the crime family had placed within the Russian ministry that Emery had been working with. All traces and evidence had disappeared and the case had dispersed.

Emery had been working undercover as a bidder, and had gotten close to catching the family in the act, but they were smart, and had no convictable evidence. The Volkovs’ were inventors in the vilest sense. From what had been found, the creations were demonstrated in small scale attacks before they were auctioned off to the highest bidder. For a while, there had been no connections between the attacks that were scattered throughout. Then, a pattern had been found that only few saw. A glimpse here and there, yet not enough to do anything officially. It had been an obsession but such an obsession continues only with the hope that such a family could be caught, that there was a possibility of true justice. Yet, the trails had disappeared and nothing had appeared in years, until now. Now, Emery stands in front of Hans in inner shock and fear. If this was indeed the work of the Volkov’s then there was an even greater fear, but also a greater hope that would stir in Albrecht’s heart. An appearance by this family meant another opportunity might come to catch the family once again, but also, a possible willingness for the family to show their face now meant possibly that they knew they would not be caught. He did not mean to speak when he saw the letter, but he uttered his thoughts out loud, “It can’t be them can it?” No one would likely understand what that would mean to Emery.

He had always suspected that they had involvement in the death of his loved ones. If there would be an opportunity for him to be involved in catching the head of this evil and cutting it off, then he would never leave the chance to others. He still had contacts in the Ministry as well as others he had gained during his time as a barrister. Perhaps Emery could once again convince his contacts that this family was rising again. They had submerged in silence in regards to evidence, but this was evidence indeed. However, for now, Emery had to think of his students and think of their safety as Headmaster. He was no longer in the position to disappear and fight this evil from the inside. No, his method of approach would have to be different.

When Emery saw the dagger, he quickly commanded Hans, “Hand me that dagger, Hans. If we want to end their reign, we need that dagger for evidence.” If Hans did indeed hand Emery that dagger, the Headmaster would take a napkin and use it to place the dagger into a pouch with nothing else in it. The evidence could not be tampered with ever again, or else, the family would disappear into nothingness once more. As for Valentin, Emery would attempt to give the Wideeye potion to the child, to see if it would wake him from the coma. He would pour the potion slowly down the lips of the young child and they would all have to wait. That was when Nikolai awoke and Emery heard the following words, “ah headmaster you're here that makes this simpler. Professor I was hoping you could contact the Russian Ministry for me and any colleagues you had from your days as a barrister.”

Emery sucked in a breath, tiny, silent, but his body language would show a stark difference. Could it be that Nikolai Volkov was indeed involved with the Volkov’s. The family name had haunted Emery as he taught the child. Though he never showed it, the name Volkov would always bring shivers down his back and cause a fight or fear response. Sweat would roll down the back of his neck and his breath would become shallow. He would feel hot and cold at the same time. However, nothing had seemed to indicate a connection at all between the family that had terrified his very soul years ago with the Volkov in front of him. Yet, this very sentence awoke the possibility and Emery could only stand in silence for a moment, stuck in place. He unfroze and he spoke quietly and in slight fear, “Your family name has always haunted me, are you confirming the connection?”


Life was full of coincidences. Yet, this very moment did not feel as coincidence, but rather fate. Of course, Emery would find himself in battle once more with this family. Of course, it would be at Durmstrang. Fate always caught up to Emery and he had never been able to leave a stone unturned. “With you both as my witness I'd like to press charges against Mikhail Volkov.”


Emery swallowed his saliva and it felt thick in his throat. His heart pounded and his hands imperceptibly shook. His chest felt tighter than ever before. His eyes filled with tears.
“Mikhail Volkov, do you mean the Mikhail Volkov that I chased and fought to end. You of all people are related to him.” Emery was shocked at the goodness of a child that had come out of such terror and evil. He assumed they would want him to join the family business, but Nikolai had never seemed the type to Emery during his time here. “I had sought to catch him years ago, I still have contacts in the ministry. I do not know if they will believe us, but we must end him now before he removes all evidence again.”

Action:Taking the dagger from Hans and feeding Valentin Wideye potion

Abilities: Charmer, Lovely Creature, Perfectionist, Impartial, Wandless Magic, Occlumency, Legilimancy, Imperio

Stats: sta 10 ◦ eva 8 ◦ str 8 ◦ wis 20 ◦ arc 10 ◦ acc 9