Descent - Mattheo Riddle

Chapter twenty

!TW! This Chapter contains at least mention or more of Sexual Assault, raw Violence, blood, and death. 

Lucia

May 24nd, 11:30 p.m. , Peverell Estate

The air was thick with tension as I confronted him, his presence a chilling reminder of past horrors. His frame loomed over me, an ominous silhouette against the faint light filtering through the trees. "You know," his voice was a low, menacing drawl, filled with a malice that sent shivers down my spine. "I do indeed resent you for besting me in the arena," his words hung heavy in the air, suffused with malice.

My heart raced, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Although I had triumphed over him once, the stakes felt impossibly higher now, devoid of the arena's cheering crowds and under the oppressive canopy of the forest. "Why are you here? Did Voldemort send you?" I mustered a tone as threatening as his, though it faltered slightly under his imposing presence.

His laugh was cold, devoid of humor. "No, sweetie, don't worry," he sneered, toying with his wand in a menacing ballet of fingers. "Voldemort is indeed aware of your antics, perhaps charmed by Riddle's unexpected benevolence. While his forces mobilize, I took it upon myself to settle our unfinished business, freed from the cumbersome oversight of others."

Adrenaline surged as I positioned myself for combat, my wand aimed directly at him. His mockery continued, "Oh, the little one fancies herself ready for battle," he chuckled darkly, his wand mirroring my stance.

He laid out the grim options with a venomous smirk, "We can do this the hard way where I wring the secrets from you before handing you over to the Dark Lord. Trust me, I have ways of making you talk that make Riddle's methods seem tender." his teeth, a yellowed, crooked display, flashed as he grinned malevolently.

Refusing to be intimidated, I countered his looming threat with defiance. "You wouldn't dare. You'd implicate yourself. Voldemort would have you punished for not delivering us directly."

His grin never wavered. "You think so? We have strict orders not to harm you or Mattheo. The Dark Lord wants that pleasure himself. If I merely detain you here, then inform him of your location, I'd be rewarded, not punished."

Unwilling to listen further, I launched an attack, "Stupefy!" My spell sliced through the air, a desperate attempt to end the confrontation swiftly.

He dodged with ease, countering with a sinister, "Defodio!" I evaded, narrowly escaping a spell meant to rend earth and flesh alike.

The battle escalated quickly; his next spell pinned me to the ground, a crushing force immobilized me. He towered over me, the embodiment of every nightmare I'd ever had. "Pity. You were so formidable in the arena, and now look at you...just as vulnerable as any other women," his taunt was a venomous sneer.

I seethed with anger, helpless as he bent close, his wand tracing a cold line down my cheek. His proximity was suffocating as he leaned closer, his wand tracing the contour of my face chillingly. "Such beauty even now," he murmured, his breath foul as his intentions became horrifyingly clear.

The terror that gripped me was unlike any fear I had faced in the arena; it was personal, visceral. As he fumbled with my clothing, his intentions stark and monstrous, I was paralyzed not just by the spell but by the raw, primal fear of what he intended to do to reclaim his perceived dominance - his way of erasing the humiliation of his defeat by asserting control in the most vile manner imaginable.

He was close now, too close, his hands violating the sanctity of my person as he whispered, "Let's make this memorable, shall we?" His breath was a venom on my neck, his movements poised to shatter what little dignity the situation left me.