Her Last Flight

178 10 8
                                    

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.


Helena was in trouble. Trouble that she had incurred through her own foolishness. Trouble that weighed in a hidden pouch against her waist. Trouble that had followed her across an ocean.

Trouble that would spell her death.

When trouble finally found her, it was a beautiful night in the midst of an Albanian forest.

Silence surrounded Helena on all sides, the only accompaniment to her harsh breathing the tinkling of the frozen branches rustling in the cold wind. The sound reminded her of the delicate glass bells her mother had liked to hang on all the windows of her high tower, waiting to catch a breeze from the Great Lake.

I'm sorry, Mother.

No animals called, no wolves cried and no owls hooted. It made Helena feel alone and watched at the same time. The inky night sky stretched above her head, deep blue and endless like the ocean - like her mother's eyes.

Like her own eyes, the resemblance running so strong in all physical similarities but so weak when it came to her abilities.

Her path through the deserted forest was only illuminated courtesy of the full moon, which hung heavy and pregnant in the sky, surrounded by the blinking dots of a million stars. Everything around her was dipped in its molten silver, creating an otherworldly beauty that was only enhanced by the snow crunching underneath her flimsy shoes, glittering like a blanket of diamond dust.

Diamond dust which gave under her weight, leaving traces she couldn't afford. Helena glanced behind her, her breath misting up the view of her footprints in the snow, a clear indication of where she had run. Tiredly she waved her hand, magic leaking from her fingertips and drawing from her arm. Her footprints were taken care of in one sweep, but the tightness in her throat didn't ease. Some instinct told her it wouldn't be enough. He wouldn't give up so quickly.

Trouble was always eager to find her.

Icy slush had soaked the hem of her long blue wool cloak and the thin fabric of her shoes, her toes numb to its freezing touch. Helena had thought she would be safe here in this faraway land, so far from Scotland, from her home and from Hogwarts, far from everything she had ever known.

But it seems like it hadn't been far enough.

There was a sharp tug on her scalp, pain shooting down her spine and forcing her to stop in her stumbling flight. A branch had hooked a curl of her long black hair, the thin wood almost looking like skeletal fingers clutching the dark strands. Like death had extended his hand and grabbed for her.

Helena turned around to free herself - and froze.

A tall man was standing in the clearing just behind her. He was illuminated by the same moonlight that drenched everything around her but his black robes were swallowing the light as if he didn't want anyone to see him clearly.

Her Last FlightWhere stories live. Discover now