Winters Cloak | S.S

34 | Heroine

With every breath you took, pain nit-picked at your lungs, burning, like you were stranded at the depths of hell. Voice barely audible as your flesh was coated with thick ash of an unknown substance.

Black smoke blur your vision. Not entirely, but enough for a headache to pounce at your temples.

As your eyes flutter, faintly making out a bleak grey horizon, cold air engulf your bones, even the floor you were collapsed on felt icy. Your body ached, head to toe. But as you try to shift your torso upward, you press your palms on the arctic terra firma for a boost, trying to steady your febrile body, but you only groan in agony.

Your ankles were imprinted with the heavy metal shackles structure, it was so tight and close to your unsheathed skin, and you hiss each time you move your leg, as it dug into your bare tegument.

You assumed to be left disheveled, underground .

The dense silver metal chains tie you back, you glance upwards to observe four fixated bolts on both sides carrying concatenation, against the stone wall.

You huff in pure agitation.

The feeling of helplessness rummages your insides, rupturing every desire of yours to escape. You were slowly starting to accept your fate, because you were tired from running away all the time.

Maybe the overwhelming situations with Severus and Marissa were the core of your problems, but this was different.

This was indeed fate. All decisions led you up to this very moment and you put yourself to blame.

Ears picking up on eerie screeching sounds, low notes and bass, you turn your head to tune in but it delivers itself from all sorts of directions—you could not pick out which side.

So you decide to wait. Unclenching your fists which had turned purple from squeezing too hard. Miniature cuts and bruises fresh on your epithelial layer.

I want to go home. Even though Sev was being an asshole, I need him here.

And Marissa. I thought I knew her. Had she really betrayed me like that? Did London know? I doubt so.

But it does suck.

I wish...I wish things ended differently with us.

I wish we had been closer. Miscommunication clearly steered all our motives and now we are attacking one another instead of finding the real enemy.

But where exactly is Severus?

I can trace back to my memory, the vial Severus gave me.

Would he even know where I was located if I shook it? He did tell me to do that in emergencies...

Perhaps I should shake it to notify him of my whereabouts.

So, you search through your ragged clothes, noticing that they were torn. You pat yourself, panicking. Except, all you find is that your pockets were cut open.

Somebody must have stolen all my personal belongings while I was in a deep slumber.

Your eyes widen upon realisation.

You could practically scissor your fingers through the openings, the seams vanished as they took a chunk of clothing from your sides, skin visible from the holes. And it did not help that the chains that bind around your wrist only dragged you down.

My wand and vial and other things...shit.

I'm actually fucked.

The door to the cellar swings open, it's back hitting against the wall earning a hard THWACK and you recoil back in your perched position into a ball. Sliding up against the stone, vision still foggy.