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CHAPTER TEN. . . The Night Ends
"You are a pipe dream." Nora Sakavic, The King's Men
Most people have the privilege of being sculpted from marble-their bones tapped into formation by a chisel and hammer, guided by the eye of a god-like artist. Their smiles are forged in sunlight, teeth shining like pearls and their blood, a thinned red paint that breathes life into their beating paper-mâché hearts. Innocent, breakable. They live and die with the clear intent of just existing, without need for further questioning the existence of wizards and who gets to decide their fate. It's all plain and simple, a clearly laid out path for them to follow accordingly. The path for a population that are naive to the future. A thin white veil of ignorance laid over their eyes from the day they were brought into the world. They have no real reason to worry, or speculate about the darkness that crawls in the shadows of the universe.
Unlike August, who from birth seems to be doomed to live his life with one part of his conscious in the presence, and the other in trapped within his own mind. Rather than being sculpted from marble, his flesh and bone were ripped apart and carefully puzzled back together as the perfect tragedy. August drew the card of Death, rather than the card of The Sun. His smile was not forged in sunlight. Instead, his frown was forged from the silver tears of those doomed to die. His teeth do not shine like pearls. Instead, the rotten bone is hidden behind a frown of perpetual despair. His blood is not thinned red paint. Instead, the dark black ink of the family tree that curse his shoulders with a weight seemingly heavier than the Earth.
August longs for the thin white veil of ignorance, but it was never placed over his eyes.
He sees glimpses-single moments of Malia's shining smile; Lily's comforting voice reading them the latest chapter of Emma which they'd picked up earlier in the month together as a group. He sees James perched on his broom to cheer his team along, Remus with Hot Chocolate clutched in his palms and Peter carefully pouring over his new pack of Tarot Cards (painted and gifted to him by Malia) with his tongue stuck slightly out of his mouth in concentration. August sees Theodora, eyes bright and arms welcoming whenever he needs: his sister, and his partner in crime. Lastly, he sees Sirius; storming eyes locked into him in an intense gaze meant only for him, and nobody else.
Without August knowing, there was an extra card drawn within his lifetime: The Lovers. His unconscious creation of a connection that means more than he realises-a name chanting in his head on a continuous loop: Sirius Black, Sirius Black, Sirius Black. August was left feeling exposed that night when they fell asleep hand in hand; heart in heart. And frankly, fear has crept through his slowly-healing heart and permanently settled into carefully into the creaks left behind. Aphrodite believes that she is doing him a favour, and August can't decide if he agrees or disagrees. Because there was no sign, there was no warning; it was sudden and an electric shock to his system. A welcomed chance at a happy-ending, rather than a tragedy.
