Like Moths to a Flame // Sebastian Sallow x Male MC [Book One]

Chapter Thirty-Five: The Relic Speaks

No time to waste? If only Sebastian had known how true that was.

He woke with a start, bitter taste coating his tongue, nausea twisting in his gut. He groaned, rolling onto his side as a sharp, blinding pain lanced behind his eye - like a needle stabbing through his skull. The agony stole his breath away entirely. For one terrible second, he thought he might scream.

Then, as abruptly as it struck, it vanished.

Gone. Just like that.

What in Merlin's name...

Blinking against the pitch darkness, he pushed himself upright. The floor beneath him was hard and cold. Dirt. His hands trembled as he steadied himself, trying to make sense of the shadows, of the disorientation still clinging to him like a fever dream. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

He looked down - pajamas. He was still in his pajamas. His boots were on, strangely, but he had no idea how or why.

Where even was he? He wasn't at Hogwarts... Had he somehow used Floo Flames in his sleep? Was that even possible?

Another wave of nausea hit, stronger than before. He barely had time to lean over before retching, the sound echoing far too loud in the cavernous silence. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, eyes darting around as he finally took in the space around him.

Dark. Expansive. Familiar in the worst possible way.

His breath caught.

No. It couldn't be.

But it was.

The Feldcroft catacomb.

Panic surged through him. He reached instinctively for the relic, but of course, his pajamas had no pockets. His stomach dropped.

That would mean he didn't have his wand, either.

As he pushed himself up from the floor, his fingers brushed against something solid. The unexpected contact sent a jolt through him, and he recoiled, heart leaping as a sudden barrage of whispers flooded his mind. The relic. It was here after all. Sebastian wasn't sure if he should be relieved or terrified. A little bit of both?

Regardless, here it was, resting beside him on the ground. He stared at it for a moment before reaching out with caution, lifting it with trembling fingers. The buzzing returned instantly, shortly followed by the whispers - the terrible whispers - curling through his mind like smoke. He clenched his jaw and tried to block them out.

Rising to his feet, Sebastian shook off the unease prickling at the edges of his awareness. He turned toward the nearest passage, resolved to find a way out, only to freeze mid-step.

The whispers were no longer just background noise that he couldn't quite place.

He could now understand them.

"Let us out!"

A plea. A cry of despair.

"Set us free..."

And then, a low, relentless chant - no longer pleading, but promising:

"Break the seal that binds,
Our secrets you will find.
Within the shadows' sway,
True power comes to play."

Each phrase oozed with dread, as though the relic were a conduit to some long-buried nightmare realm. Sebastian stood frozen, relic still clasped in his now sweaty hand, caught between the allure of its power and the instinct to run. Curiosity clawed at him, but fear held fast.

He coughed, barely a sound. Tried to speak, but nothing came out.

"LET US OUT!"

The terrible command shattered his resolve completely. He dropped the relic and collapsed to his knees. Silence fell like a curtain.