The Dawn of Darkness || T. Riddle

Chapter 3: The Memory

"Oh believe me, I know exactly how to satisfy you."

Tom was staring at her in a way that seemed to reawaken a distant part of herself that still haunted her to this day. She stared back and had to force herself not to smile as he observed her with cruel enjoyment.

Alden was awkwardly staring at the two of them and a moment later he cleared his throat. "Well, I hate to break up whatever," he waved his hand between them, "this is, but the letters that are to be sent tonight require your signature, my Lord."

Tom reluctantly turned his head towards Alden and nodded. "Very well," he said smoothly before returning his attention to Estela. "You can leave."

Estela nodded her head towards Tom and Alden, who were both watching her with very opposite expressions, before she turned and walked back down the long room, her cloak sweeping across the floor as she made her way towards the large black doors.

***

In her room, Estela stood before one of the large windows that stretched from ceiling to floor and watched the weather devour the world beyond the glass. There was something about storms she couldn't help but admire. She loved the serene brutality of the thunder and the lightning, and the electric power she felt in her lungs with each deep breath of stormy air.

The unexpected sound of his voice behind her sliced through the storm. "So this is what you do in your spare time, is it?"

Riddle's presence was as sudden as a lightning strike, catching her off guard despite her best efforts. She turned to face him, masking her surprise with a veneer of indifference. His intrusion, though uninvited, was not wholly unwelcome. After all, she had questions that she wanted answers to. 

Estela watched as Riddle moved slowly around the room, his gaze sweeping over her possessions with an inscrutable expression. "To what do I owe the pleasure, my Lord?"

He stepped into the room and let his eyes wander. "I thought I'd pay a welcoming visit to my newest follower."

The air between them was alight in an instant, filled with unspoken words and unresolved history. "Your newest follower?" she echoed, her words laced with a hint of scorn. "I recall a promise of standing by your side, not behind you."

The deep laughter he emitted was devoid of warmth, a sound that reverberated with ominous undertones. "You seem to misremember our arrangement, Estela."

"No," she retorted sharply, "I remember very well. But it appears you've become adept at rewriting the past to suit your narrative."

"Such a sharp tongue you've developed," he sneered before he suddenly straightened, standing tall in the middle of the large room. "It seems you've forgotten who you're speaking to."

"I know exactly who I'm speaking to," she snapped. "And he's nothing more than the lying, manipulative boy I once knew."

He laughed, but there was no trace of humour hidden within the deep sound. It was more of a warning. He made his way towards her, each step slow and confident as though he was merely strolling through the park on a warm summer's day.

"It seems as though you're stuck in the past, Estela," he taunted, his voice a dark melody. "I'm not the person you once knew."

Something within Estela broke at those words and how true they undeniably were. What had happened to them? What had happened to the boy and girl who would give the world away to be by each others' side? After everything they'd been through together they seemed like nothing more than strangers. And that shattered her in more ways than she'd care to admit.