Bound By Blood.

ch.45~ No turning back.

"As I've said before,

Mourning you twice isn't on my to-do list.

Get your shit together, Brookie."

Recovered Translated Correspondents Between Death Eater Mattheo Riddle, to Order Member Alexandra Brooks,2003.

Unknown Location, 2003.

Mattheo.

Its hard to catch your breath, when you've worked up such a sweat.

But, as I stood there, at the top of some decaying stairs, looking over my night of events, I tried to find an emotion to feel besides accomplished.

Close to a hundred bodies lay across the floor, their blood pooling into darkened stains that marred the ratty wooden boards beneath me.

I looked at my hands, slick with crimson—my hands, my choices, my reckoning.

The camp had not been under the command of Death Eaters, nor was it aligned with the Order.

It was a ragtag group of stragglers, a collection of lost souls attempting to rise against My father. Death Eaters.

Against me.

Unacceptable.

After my brief, unsettling encounter with Brooks the week before, the seeds of doubt began to sprout, sowing chaos in my mind.

I had held back for far too long, clinging to the hope that maybe I could still salvage a sense of morality; that there was something redeemable among the wreckage.

But I was wrong.

Embracing the reality of my power, I had taken control.

I had decided to shed the weight of expectation like a tattered cloak.

I had stepped into the dark—I had dived in headfirst.

The flickering shadows of the campfire illuminated the chaos I had wrought.

Screams echoed in my mind, yet they quickly faded into distant whispers.

I could recall their faces only as fleeting impressions against the veil of crimson that washed over my vision, numbing the remorse I should have felt.

I had obliterated them; every last one.

I could still hear the crack of spells, the desperate cries of terrified men and women. I could visualize the panicked expressions as they realized the presence of someone who was both a savior and a monster.

For years, I had restrained myself, hoping for some sort of awakening.

But last night, as I surveyed the chaos, I embraced who I truly was: an unstoppable entity.

This was my calling. It was I was raised to be.

Pushing off the remnants of uncertainty, I felt the adrenaline coursing through my veins, igniting a power I had long subdued.

It enveloped me and surged upward—fueled by every spell I'd cast, every incantation whispered under the cover of night.

I was no longer tethered by the morality of others; I was above it all.

As I descended the stairs, the air thick with the stench of smoke and blood, I allowed myself to revel in the chaos I'd created.

Each step forward was matched with the weight of my past decisions, but they no longer mattered.