Hogwarts Legacy: The Price of Power

✧

It was strange to know everything, for only the briefest moment. Strange to see all that had been and ever would be. Strange to see beyond even that. Strange to know that Fotheringham's suspicions that the Source provided a body with the powers of a god was not mere wishful thinking.

Then the strangeness went away as if it had never been, for this was who She was. She knew everything. She saw everything.

She saw you.

In that single span of a heartbeat, as the Source surged through Her, eating away at all She once was, taking over the living, breathing vessel, becoming conscious and alert, Dracaena fought back. She fought with everything she had.

In that single span of a heartbeat, where time expanded forever and yet stood still, She cried out a single word.

WHY?

In knowing all and understanding all, She had the power to shape the threads of being to Her will. The way to make everything that had ever been wrong right again. She fought for control.

She reached out into the fabric of everything and nothing.

In that single span of a heartbeat, She made it so Her partners would suffer no consequence for their part in their misdeeds. She made it so they would live. She made it so they could find the strength to go on.

She found the figure of Rathbone, his scarred face seemingly caught in slow motion, his expression changing glacially from anger, to shock, to fear, to absolute terror. She knew him, all of him, She saw his life and his choices and saw he was beyond redemption. With a twitch of Her fingers, he was no more, scattered to dust, gone from the face of the earth, to suffer eternally. His Ashwinders too, those that had threatened her friends. Gone in an instant, erased from being, cast into nothing. Some figures were fleeing, those that were not Ashwinders, but the Source was rushing through Her, and she could not remember who they were or why it was important to...

Such power She had. The power to bend the world to her will.

She looked down and up and out and around all at once, as the Source surged through Her. It was becoming one with Her, pushing Her being aside, making room for Itself. Inch by inch, She could feel Herself slipping away. There had been a desire, once, a need to do something that would have made someone happy. But She could not remember for the life of Her what it was.

Was this what Fotheringham had meant? Was this what it was to be absolute? Was this the price of power?

Power.

True, unbridled might. No one to challenge Her, no one to fight, no one to question. No one could withstand Her. She could make it right. By Her word, it would be so.

But even still, something stayed Her hand. The part of Herself that was still Herself fought back. What would the Source do if it managed to overtake Her, as powerful as She was?

This was not right.

This could not be.

This was too dangerous.

She could not allow this to continue.

The ability to know right from wrong was fading from Her. Her grip on reality, the things that made Her who She was sliding into the light, consumed, picked over, devoured piece by piece. In that single span of a heartbeat, where She had all the power that ever was and ever would be, She knew She could not allow the Source to leave this place. She knew it could never be found again, for one day, some other fool would find it and think themselves strong enough to take it.

The Source saw what She intended, and tightened its grip, consuming, devouring, destroying. In that single span of a heartbeat, it was too late.

Dracaena made her choice.

Knowing everything, She knew what such a choice would mean for Her. In that single span of a heartbeat, She knew She had already lost too much. She would never again know the loving arms of those she cared for most. She would never again feel their lips, their breath against her neck, their sleeping forms beside her.

It would hurt them. It hurt Her.

It hurt to know She wouldn't see them again. It hurt to know She wouldn't hold them close. It hurt that She didn't have the time to tell them how much she loved them, for in knowing all things, she knew what She could say to make them realise the depth of Her affection and adoration for them both. But it was because She loved them that She had to do this. It was the only way.

Dracaena loved them enough to let them go.

She banished the Source from this plane of existence, never to return, to continue sowing the seeds of its will and magic through the world, but never to be found. Never to be touched. Never to be used.

Dracaena crumpled to the ground, her vision fading. The last thing she saw was Sebastian and Ominis pelting towards her, deliciously alive and safe, her name a song on their lips. A song of desperation and pain, fluted with the undertones of hope, all overshadowed by nothing but the purest love.

That, at least, was some comfort.

Her heart beat once more, a single, steady thrum.

And that was all she ever knew.