The Lunar Forest || Tom Riddle

Chapter Six

"He looked at her as a man might look at a faded flower he had plucked, in which it was difficult for him to trace the beauty that had made him pick and so destroy it."

━━ ANNA KARENINA

[TW →  graphic gore, psychological trauma] I do not usually provide warnings but this chapter is quite heavy, please read carefully if you are sensitive to the things listed above

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

There was nothing distinctive about that day. A turbulent storm was emerging in the East, with winds from fiery holes in heaven wielding their blades and decimating the Northern trees.

The 16th of October held no philosophical significance for him, and maybe he should have waited for a more auspicious date.

Tom Riddle was wallowing in the pitfalls of an insatiable hunger, which plagued his senses in every waking moment. Angels whispered in his ears, promising an aversion from his damned path, but only the wretched could give him his deepest desires. Mortality was a brittle thing, carried by waxen wings which mounted above his reach and condemned him to the space between sun and sea— for if they were to melt, he would plummet to an infelicitous demise.

Yet, the path to glory lay far beyond atmospheric confines. To achieve the power by which he was so enticed, he would need to sever the bonds which constrained him, and sink further into the anathematized art which could grant him the means to an end of this ravenous yearning.

The entrance to the Room of Requirement appeared, and Riddle entered as the door swung open on its own accord. It supposedly came and went as it pleased, determining the need of those who passed it, but Tom had found a way to manipulate the ancient magic by his third year.

The others were already seated around a large, excessively grand marble table, which mimicked that of Malfoy Manor. It was 6 p.m.; the day was over for everyone, but for them, it had just begun.

"Riddle," Abraxas greeting, bowing his head slightly. Tom utterly loathed the way his filthy muggle name slipped out of a mouth of such posterity.

"The final stage of the plan is today," Tom said straightforwardly. "I called this meeting only to ensure everything is in place." A silence fell, as he dared anyone to say that they had failed in their assigned endeavours.

Nott handed him a small glass vial, the contents of which were a repulsive brownish-red, a metallic shade of dried blood. "Here is the p-potion required," he said hesitantly. "It-t was difficult, but I managed. All you need t-t-to add is...well..." He faltered.

"Yes, I know," Riddle interrupted, putting the boy out of his misery. Triton still had difficulty coming to terms with the more gruesome aspects of Tom's plan.