SKY RUNS RED [Solangelo At Hogwarts]

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Hey there you babes!!
Just before you start to read:

⚠️ MILD GORE TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️

Before and after  the gore I'll put this: §§§ so you know what to skip
At the end of the chapter there'll be a less descriptive summary of it so you don't miss out!!

↠ Nico ↞

There's a funny thing about silence. It's all consuming, it twists and tangles around thoughts, words, consciousness itself but yet you can't touch it. It's powerful and suffocating and has the ability to make you sweat but it's invisible, it's a concept of our own making and by this logic we have the power to control it. But that logic is wrong because it spills over the edges and floods out the gates, submerging everything under its icy grip. Although, despite all of this we break it everyday, it covers our lips but our voices still reverberate into the emptiness. For something so strong it is as fragile as ourselves.

I was met with silence when I revealed my identity to those four wizards. Terrified silence, the kind that makes most people scared themselves but instead it filled me with a morbid satisfaction, festering delight that came from their fear, but I knew that feeling wasn't me. It was my powers, my ability. It didn't come free, every time I use the darkness, the shadows, death itself, this feeling hangs over me. Chiron reassures me it's normal but it makes me feel disgusting. Those four sets of trembling hands make me feel disgusting. The skeletons at my shoulder make me feel disgusting.

So I get rid of them, willing them to fall through the ground. But relief doesn't flood through my limbs and to my mind, and I don't feel any better as Will nervously reaches out and rubs Newt's hand softly. I just feel worse, and as a prickling feeling gathers in my eyes and my body begins to tremble ever so slightly, I duck my head and regain my composure. Put on the mask of all those heroes I'm meant to be, the mask is tanned, symmetrical and a son of a 'good' god. The mask isn't gay, or threatening the good guys, the mask is who I've trained myself to be. The mask is the Nico everyone wants. And it's what everyone gets. Most of the time. 

I look back at the people in front of me, and my heart breaks.

Newt is having a panic attack.

Hermione is completely white.

Harry is looking toward the exit.

Ron is frozen.

And Will- Will looks disappointed.

And with the sorrowful look being cast from his painfully blue eyes, the prickling at my tear ducts gives way to the acidic drops of salty liquid that burn my mask away and leave me with blotchy cheeks and a terrible, gasping inhale that inhibits any attempt to talk. In an instant its as if a spell has broken, Will's arms are wrapped around me and it makes me simultaneously feel clean and dirty. As if I'm a torn and tattered garment of clothing that's being washed only to be put in the bin.

It took way too long for our group to calm down, I'm not fragile like this, it's not who I am, but yet, sitting here with a stuffed nose, blurry vision and blotchy cheeks, I didn't feel very much like the Prince of the Dead. After all the panicked breaths stretched to shaky inhales, and the leaking eyes morphed to streaky cheeks, and the shaking hands gripped things to stay still, we just stayed there. Sitting, trying to launch messages to one another through the not silent silence, at least I was.

After some time, the number of minutes spent sitting there unknown to us all, we slowly stood. As we walked to the nearest bathroom, the product of Will leading the way and us being too tired to do any different, I slowly reached out and rested my hand on each of the wizards arms. I tried to convey my regret through my fingertips, and from the weak smiled I got, it seemed to work.

I briefly felt as if we were all being dramatic, I mean sure, I was hostile, and they were rude, and it was an unpleasant conversation, but it really shouldn't have left us in this state. Though, deep down I knew this was more than the result of a few mean words, it was all of our young, splintered souls resigning to the fact we would never heal.

Apparently, splashing icy water on your face doesn't magically smooth over all the fissures in your resolve, but it does reduce the redness of your nose after an enjoyable bout of group sobbing. Our group was still silent, and to outsiders it would seem as though we were on our way to a funeral. And in some ways we were, we just didn't know it yet.

Hearing some passerby's whispering about Janina from Ravenclaw disappearing was the last straw. I broke the silence with a scratchy voice from disuse and crying.

"Let's go."

Simultaneously, five grimacing smiles met my own and we set course for the nearest exit, eventually speeding up from our crawl to a suspicious walk/run/ hop and finally flat out sprinting. I wasn't sure of exactly where we were running, but I decided that the place where the sky itself twisted downward into the earth was a good bet. Running from monsters for your entire life had one upside: my resistance was spectacular. Will and I moved easily and fluidly through the tangled undergrowth of the Forbidden Forest, while the other four made their way behind us with a considerable amount of swearing and thuds as they fell over the uneven patchwork of roots. I felt the familiar spike of anticipation, the swell of danger, and rather than scaring, it soothes me. This is familiar territory, and this is something I know how to do.

Seeing the body was numbing.

§§§

Don't get me wrong, it was completely and utterly horrific. The red sky seemed to swirl in an unnatural fragmented way, similar to what you would imagine if glass behaved like liquid, the twisting pattern reached down from the heavens and met at a single point. This point just so happened to be a mangled corpse of the first missing student. The girl's once golden skin was now blistered and bubbling, the flesh sizzling as if it were being fried. Her face was completely torn down the middle, a terrifyingly clean cut right through the soft tissue of her head, exposing a blackened skull. The girl, Tamika, I faintly recall, lay with her limbs twisted around her like a nightmarish halo of broken bone, her deep red blood oozing and pooling around everything, I could taste it in the air.

§§§

All around Tamika were strange markings in the sandy floor. Glancing back at where we just came from, I saw that the ground changed abruptly from soil and plants to a sand so red it it almost mirrored the shade of her blood. I looked to my friends for the first time since our arrival and noticed I had subconsciously moved toward the body, whilst everyone else had hurried back. Ron and Hermione seemed to be on the brink of vomiting, while Harry was already there, bent over a shrub retching. Will was crouched at the edge of the sand, seemingly analysing Tamika's body from afar, as if he couldn't bare to get any closer. I understood though, my head was spinning and my throat felt slick with bile. Everything about this place was sickening and it left a rancid taste in my mouth.

I knew I should say something, but all I could think about was the festering corpse beside me, and I drew blanks. I briefly scanned the ground around me, taking in the pattern and symbols, easily committing it to memory, and then I slowly turned on my heel and made my way back to the supposed safety of gnarly tree roots and rich soil.

After waiting for the vomiting to stop, the fear to settle, I trained my eyes on the path back to school and strode quickly down it, hearing the others follow suit.

There are times where you should say something, and there are times where no words would ever be enough.

[GORE SUMMARY FOR THOSE WHO SKIPPED]

They found the body of the first missing student, Tamika, in the middle of where the sky twisted down. Tamika had her face split open, revealing her skull, and limbs broken.
That's basically it for the gore you skipped, it was just descriptive and detailed!

Have a great day <3