Style // Sirius Black

Chapter XXXIII

Warning: This chapter may contain slightly triggering content in regards to mental health. Please be cautious of this when reading.

I was motionless. Not a single movement radiated through my body, and the air around me was utterly still. I'd never felt such paralyzing fear, striking me frozen. My feet couldn't move, and my nerves were on end, waiting for the pain to start. There was nothing but pitch around me, keeping me in its depth with no end in sight. A silvery pearl ran down my cheeks as the air around me grew stuffy and stale.

I could hear him wandering around me, pointed-toe shoe covered feet scraping across the ground in a taunting warning. I wondered if I was drowning. Was this what it felt like? I'd never felt something like it before. It was terrifying, the way I lost control. My limbs didn't feel like my own, and the grasp I had on my mind was anything but tight. Perhaps this was what death felt like—the loss of control and power over your own devices. Had I accomplished anything I set out to if this was the end?

The simple answer was no. I had barely begun. There were thousands of things I still needed to complete before I succumbed to the tantalizing bait of a motionless death. Was death what circled me? Were the scrapes of feet his own? I wasn't entirely sure where I was headed as the feeling returned to my limbs. But I knew pretty quickly it wasn't my time yet. I had things to achieve and people to save.

The water licking my feet grew warmer, the dank smell of rot disappearing as I began my march forward. The overwhelming aroma of bergamot and cedar took its place, a warming blanket stretching across my shoulders. Warm hands ran up and down my arms, the cool contrast of silver becoming a comfort instead of a fear.

I don't know where I'm headed as I march through the rapidly dispersing water. But I do know he lingers close behind, lurking through my cavern with sinister eyes. I may be but a pawn in the game this was, but a pawn can be the reckoning if the moves made are made well.

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Sweat broke across her brow as Lyra Potter sat up straight, as though someone had shocked her with a lightning strike. She'd been in and out of consciousness the last week, slipping into the same dark void as before. His voice had disappeared, but his words still lingered. The scraping of his nail across that veiled secret she kept within herself, matching those of all the others she had seen. The art of a mystery is the cage, and Lyra managed a pretty damn good one.

They had sent a letter to Sirius Blacks younger brother to come as quickly as possible, much to the elder Black son's dismay. He had refused to leave the blonde's side, gripping her hand whenever she woke from the dazed state the Dark Lord kept submerging her into. She managed to pull herself from it each time, but she never came back the same. Lyra was paler each time, more rigid with her words.

The scraping of his feet was the worst. Whenever she was conscious, it echoed in her mind and kept her from sleeping when she didn't unwillingly lose her wits. Lyra missed the feeling of sleep, the serenity she found when the world around her melted away into last memories with a twist. The replaying of Sirius's face whenever he smiled bouncing around in her resting mind, bringing her a sense of comfort beyond words. Now his face was solemn, staring at her with a blank expression but every bit of fear in his eyes.

"Regulus is here," Sirius whispered from the chair beside her bed, chin in hand as he stared at her, "Downstairs. I told him to wait until you're awake."

Lyra nodded and swung her legs around off of her bed, hovering her feet above the ground as the memory of the ice-cold water tugging her in. Sirius waited, never interfering as she worked through the fear. He learned not to do that the first time she returned from whatever cathartic state Voldemort threw her into. With a final breath, the blonde dropped her feet, and her toes immediately recoiled at the cool wood of the floor. Sirius sprung up, dropping to his knees and sliding the slippers she had over her feet. That was as much as he could do without her falling into a meltdown.