PLEASE READ THE FOREWORD!
| enemies to lovers | dagger to throat | morally grey oc | slow-burn | dark themes | gore | violence | toxicity | corruption arc | golden era | mythology references | dark fantasy | 18+
Ariadne smirked at him, staring at b...
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𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝖋𝖎𝖛𝖊
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𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐌𝐀 𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐙 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐓 the letter arrived on the evening of October 30th. The seconds she was ticked by until she decided to grab it. The older witch did not know if she should have felt happy that Ariadne had responded, but she felt somewhat relieved. She tore the note from the owl's beak open, her heart swelling at the sight of Ariadne talking to her in their shared language.
She smiled at the first two paragraphs, but they slowly vanished as she read the rest of the letter. She pressed it to her mouth, looking worrying around the house. Paloma gulped and breathed deeply, trying to calm herself down.
"Tao!" she called, immediately hearing footsteps coming down the staircase.
His head peaked out. "What is it?"
She did not respond but handed the letter to him. He took it between nimble fingers, and his face scrunched. Thanatos was thousands of years old. Of course, he could understand any language in the world. But his face went white as he read Ariadne's letter.
"It's happening," he said, and Paloma's eyes were full of tears. "Her powers are manifesting."
They had hoped it would not happen since it was infrequent for a demigod to inherit their father's powers. Sometimes, down the genetic line, a demigod would be born with even more extraordinary powers than their godparent, making them dangerous and volatile. Their scent got stronger, and it made monsters chase them down. Demigods never had happy endings.
Paloma reached for him, and she sobbed in his chest. "Not my baby." she cried, clinging to Thanatos. "Please, not my baby."
Her cries echoed in the empty house as Thanatos rubbed her back and tried to soothe her.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
The Great Hall sang with students' chatter as everyone put the finishing touches on the Halloween decorations. Ariadne rearranged some flying spiders on the ceiling, gripping the ladder with white fingers.
She looked down, saw that she was well above fifteen feet from the ground, and shrugged. Ariadne had grown to love heights when Malfoy gave her a Hogwarts tour on her broomstick. Her heart warmed at the fond memory, leaving her with an odd feeling. Draco Malfoy would never be that same boy again.
