𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 || 𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒
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    𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐓 a trail of destruction across the campsite; dozens of screaming witches and wizards scattered by, blurred beneath the rising coils of smoke. Nobody knew who had done it, but the flames that steadily consumed everything in sight would soon leave no evidence at all.

    She was running. The camp was ablaze behind her. From the shadows, she glimpsed an approaching figure—perhaps one of the organisers? Maybe some of the guards, hurrying to try to save what they could from the burning scene. But when she rounded the last tent, she came face to face with him. She gasped again as she saw his face—or rather, the mask which concealed it: a malevolent visage beneath which lurked something truly evil.

    Luxanna Black had seen a mask like that before, on her own father's face. A relic of a dark patronage. Everybody knew that the respectable Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Cepheus Black, had in his time been one of You-Know-Who's supporters, but as it was, Cepheus was the sort of man who revealed about as much to his family as he did to the public, and Luxanna hated him for it. Mind you, it was not something he had ever intended for his daughter to see, she knew that, but her mind somehow still contrived to make sense of the lies: here was another piece of her shattered past. Another token of her family's tragedy. One more reminder of the burden thrust upon her from a very young age.

    This revelation left her reeling. She had known that her father's life involved more than 'business as usual', but she hadn't—until the reality was staring her right in the face—realised quite how much. All of a sudden her family seemed more foreign to her than ever.

    Her hand raced to her wand, but her rival was quicker, seizing her wrist and yanking her towards him. He glared into her eyes and then laughed, seeming almost pleased by the fear which rose within her.

    "What's wrong?" he asked, moving in closer until she felt his breath through the mask's cavities upon her skin.

    "Let me go!" she demanded, but her voice barely registered above the noise of the chaos behind them. Luxanna's gaze darted nervously over his shoulder, searching for help—for her father, even now—but it was futile and she knew it, because when she'd rushed from their tent in anger over the argument they had been having, Luxanna made completely sure that he didn't follow her.

    "I won't let you touch me," she said defiantly, trying to push herself back away from the stranger.

    "But I am already touching you," he said, the smirk audible in his voice.

    In this precarious position, trapped against a darkening sky, it finally dawned on Luxanna that she was entirely on her own for the very first time. That it was her turn to pay the toll of her family's past. She took her chance when she saw a couple more of his companions approaching: by aiming a swift kick at her assailant's knees, she managed to weaken his grip for a split second, allowing her to slip away from his grasp. The man swung around, startled by the interruption; Luxanna ducked beneath his outstretched arm and scrambled to her feet, her wand drawn and ready.

    Once she was able to size up the scene however, it was clear to Luxanna that she was now heavily outnumbered, that her hand was shaking, and that she probably looked about as helpless as she felt.

    "What've you got there, Mulciber?" chimed in another, slightly taller masked figure as it approached. "She's pretty."

    "Pretty enough to be worth getting burnt alive for?" said a third member of the group, a woman this time. "By Merlin, you're desperate. Can't get a woman on your own so you've got to go tormenting little girls?"