Death

July 2, 1993, 3:00 AM, Room of Requirement, Hogwarts

Adam Clarke

The Gaunt Ring lay before me, its dull gold band marred with cracks, the entire ring fractured down the center. A thin, acrid smoke curled from its surface, the remnants of the Horcrux’s destruction still dissipating into the stale air.

The magic that had once pulsed within it— the sickening, cloying presence of Voldemort’s fractured soul— was gone, devoured by the void. In its place was the Stone of Resurrection, untouched by the miasma.

There it is, a Deathly Hallow…

I reached for it, but a deep weariness overtook me. I sagged forward, my knees giving out as my arms barely caught me before I collapsed. The Stone beneath my palms was ice-cold, sending a dull ache through my trembling limbs. My entire body felt wrung dry, as if every drop of magic and strength had been siphoned away, leaving only an empty shell behind.

I squeezed my eyes shut and inhaled deeply, trying to steady my breathing. The void had taken more from me than anything else I had ever used before, more than even the wildest spells I had attempted in battle. It had responded to me, obeyed my will— but it had also drained me in a way I hadn’t anticipated. My limbs felt leaden; there was a phantom pressure that refused to fade, pressing down on my chest like invisible chains.

But my first instinct wasn’t to dwell on my own state. Instead, my mind reached for Alef Ard.

Are you alright? I asked, my thoughts sluggish as I reached out to the presence that was Hogwarts itself. Did the void touch you, like it did the first time?

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, a faint buzz echoed in my mind, a whisper of shifting stone and old magic. Alef remained, and seemed in good spirits— pardon the pun.

Relief crashed through me like a wave, weak but undeniable. The school was still whole. I hadn’t broken anything that couldn’t be fixed.

I let my head drop forward, resting my forehead against the back of my hand as I exhaled slowly. The room was silent, save for the faint crackling of the torches and the lingering hiss of dissipating magic. But the air still felt wrong, thick with something unseen, something that sent a shiver crawling up my spine.

A sudden movement caught my eye. I forced my head up, sluggishly following the motion, and saw Snape stepping forward, his dark gaze locked onto the Stone. His expression was unreadable, but there was something simmering beneath the surface, something taut and dangerous.

His hand moved, fingers reaching for it.

“Stop.” I croaked, my voice raw and unsteady.

Snape froze mid-reach, his gaze snapping to mine with an intensity that sent a chill down my spine. I could feel it in the air— the sheer weight of his fixation, the unspoken desperation that coiled around him like a vice. He didn’t ask why. He didn’t demand an explanation. The moment, however, stretched, thick with tension, as if he were waiting for me to justify halting him from something he had already deemed inevitable.

I swallowed hard, forcing my arms to support my weight as I struggled to kneel upright.

“You can’t touch it yet.” I said, my voice still hoarse but firmer now. “The Stone is saturated with void energy. If you do, it’ll kill you.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed.

“You expect me to believe that?” His voice was low, measured, but I could hear the edge beneath it. I didn’t even need to look at his soul thread to know that he could barely contain his emotions, at this juncture.

I didn’t have time to argue. “Look at it. You can feel it, can’t you? The residue in the air? That isn’t normal magic.”

He said nothing for a moment, but his hand edged forward anyway, as if to test me.

“Don’t touch it!” The words came out hoarse, barely above a rasp, but they were enough. My vision swam, spinning with exhaustion, but the panic I felt was sharper, clearer.

“Don’t touch it, I said.” I repeated.

He still didn’t look like he believed me.

Of course, he didn’t. He was obsessed with it— the Stone, the possibility of seeing her again. Lily Potter… She was all that kept him going. His lips curled into a grim smile as his fingers moved closer to the Stone.

I wasn’t in a position to force him, but I couldn’t let him destroy himself either. The void flared within the Stone, boiling, roiling, like it was alive.

It wanted out. I attempted to speak again, but my voice cracked. I was so tired. I fought through it, pushing myself, reaching out to him.

Snape drew his wand and waved it towards the Resurrection Stone, and I could feel it— the cold, the unnatural pull of the void fighting against his magical touch. It was a sickening thing to witness, like watching an ambush predator waiting for its chance.

The man’s eyes widened before he gave out a loud yelp, dropping his wand. The skin on his hand— his flesh— began to flake, peeling back in thin sheets as if the void itself was eating him. He tried to pull back, but it was too late. The void was in him now, coursing through his body. His magic couldn’t contain it.

Nothing could.

“Stop!” I shouted, but the words barely reached me as the void gripped tighter.

The Stone pulsed with a grotesque, shuddering rhythm, each violent throb slicing through the air like the frantic gasps of a butchered beast. My stomach heaved, a sour churn roiling inside me, the taste of dread coating my tongue. Snape’s scream ripped free— a sharp, guttural howl of torment and panic—as his trembling fingers scrabbled against the spreading corruption.

His skin split and flayed open in jagged strips, peeling back like brittle parchment to expose the quivering, raw flesh beneath. That flesh, too, began to tear away in wet, stringy ribbons, sloughing off in gruesome layers, leaving his forearm a mangled ruin of shredded muscle and spilling blood.

Crimson streamed down in thick, pulsing rivulets, pooling beneath him as the carnage deepened—holes gnawed their way into the bones of his forearm, splintering and cracking open like brittle wood, dark hollows gaping where marrow should have been.

He crashed to the floor, his knees slamming into the slick, blood-smeared stone as he clawed for his wand with his unscathed hand. His grip was feral, desperate, fingers locking around it with a trembling ferocity, the tendons in his wrist bulging as he thrust it forward.

His voice broke into shards as he barked out spells, each incantation exploding from him with a frantic, unhinged intensity— countercurses spilling forth in a breathless torrent, his chest heaving, his eyes wild and gleaming with pain and fear. The air buzzed and snapped with the force of his magic, sparks raining down like embers, but it was all for nothing. The corruption surged unrelenting, a cruel, unstoppable tide of destruction, tearing through flesh and bone as blood continued to gush, staining the floor in a spreading, glistening tide he could neither banish nor escape.

Without thinking, I reached for the void, pulling it toward me, trying to will it back into me, or at least take it away from Snape before it destroyed him completely.

It was like pulling a rope taut, and yet the other end was stuck somewhere in the dark, twisting and fighting. I felt the pressure of it— too much— and yet not enough. My body screamed for release, but I ignored it. I had to focus.

Of course, the void resisted; it didn’t want to return. I felt it straining against me, alive, thrumming with power and hunger, but I couldn’t stop. I had no choice but to pull harder.

You will obey.

My heart hammered in my chest, my head spinning, my body threatening to collapse as the void dug deeper into me, unwilling to relinquish its claim on Snape. His pain was getting worse, and my focus fractured. I couldn’t stop it from happening— not yet.

“Please…!” I gasped through clenched teeth, hands shaking as I tugged. And then, finally, with an almost imperceptible shift, I felt it— the void was retreating.

It receded from Snape’s hand, slowly, agonizingly, inch by inch, the feeling like something tearing through me as it pulled away from his skin. I could feel his agony, could see the rawness of his flesh even as the void stopped peeling it away, but the process was so agonizingly slow.

I can’t take much more of this…

When the void receded completely, I bonelessly collapsed to the stone floor.

My breaths came ragged, and I felt numb all over. I struggled to move any part of me, my body screaming from the inside out. I could barely keep my eyes open, the exhaustion overwhelming me. Still, I somehow fought through it, managing to push myself up and stand, leaning against the wall and staring at Snape.

He was still on his feet, somehow, though his face was a mask of anguish, twisted with disbelief and barely restrained pain. His hand was pressed hard against his chest, fingers splayed as if he could hold himself together through sheer will. Blood seeped through the gaps between them, dark and glistening, staining the black fabric of his robes. I couldn’t tell how bad it was, but the way he swayed slightly told me it was worse than he’d ever let on.

“Clarke.” He growled again, sharper this time, snapping my eyes up to meet his. His gaze was piercing, even through the pain, commanding me to listen. “My left robe pocket. There are three potions— green, blue, and black.”

I nodded quickly, my breath catching as I stepped toward him. The air felt thick, heavy with the metallic tang of blood. My hands trembled as I reached for his robes, hesitating for just a fraction of a second. His eyes narrowed, a silent warning, and I pushed past my nerves. This wasn’t the time for second-guessing.

His left pocket was deep, the fabric stiff and slightly damp— whether from blood or potion residue, I couldn’t tell. My fingers brushed against the cool glass of the vials, and I pulled them out one by one, cradling them in my palms.

“Which one first?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt. My eyes flicked up to his face. His jaw was clenched tight, beads of sweat glistening on his pale forehead, but he didn’t hesitate.

“The green.” He rasped, his breath hitching as he shifted his weight. “Now.”

I uncorked the vial of Wiggenweld with a soft pop, the sharp, herbaceous scent of the Dittany hitting me immediately. I stepped closer, holding it out to him, but his hand didn’t move from his chest. He glared at me, impatience flashing in his dark eyes, and I realized he couldn’t—or wouldn’t— take it himself. Swallowing hard, I lifted the vial to his lips, tilting it carefully as he drank. His throat worked as he swallowed, and for a moment, his expression softened— just a flicker— before the grimace returned.

“Next.” He said, voice still rough but marginally stronger. “The blue.”

I set the empty vial on the floor beside us, my fingers fumbling slightly as I grabbed the deep blue potion. The cork came free with a faint squeak, releasing a scent like seawater. I tipped it into his mouth, watching as the thick liquid disappeared. This time, his shoulders seemed to loosen, just a fraction, and the blood staining his hand didn’t spread any further. The bleeding was slowing— I could see it in the way the dark pool beneath his fingers stopped growing.

“The black one.” He muttered, almost to himself, his eyes half-lidded now. I didn’t wait for more instruction. The final vial felt heavier in my hand, its contents motionless and ominous. When I uncorked it, there was no smell— only a strange, cold sensation that prickled my skin. I hesitated, glancing at him, but he nodded once, sharply. I brought it to his lips, and he drank it down in one swift motion, his head tilting back slightly.

For a long moment, there was silence. I stepped back, clutching the empty vials, my heart pounding in my chest. Snape’s hand slowly fell from his chest, revealing the many wounds littering it— but the blood had stopped flowing.

The raw, red edges looked less angry, and though his breathing was still uneven, it wasn’t the shallow, desperate gasps from moments before. He straightened, just a little, and the agony that had twisted his features seemed to ebb, replaced by something closer to exhaustion.

I exhaled, realizing I’d been holding my breath.

“Are you… alright?” I asked, tentative.

He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes flicked to me, assessing, and then away.

“Sufficiently.” He said at last, his voice still hoarse but carrying that familiar edge of authority. He adjusted his robes, hiding the wound from view, and though he didn’t say it, I knew the worst had passed— for now.

I set the remaining vials down, finally allowing my anger to shine through in my gaze. I wanted to rage at him for doing something so ridiculous, but how could I? He’d attempted to move the Stone with magic, and it had attacked him for it. There was no way for him to know.

Snape was silent for a long time, staring down at his mangled hand. His chest heaved with every breath, but for the first time, I saw a flicker of something other than the cold indifference he always wore.

The remnants of his fear. The emotion disappeared from his face quickly, but I saw it in his eyes, beneath the carefully constructed mask he wore so well.

His voice was low, gravelly, and tinged with disbelief and dismay. “You… you saved me.”

I didn’t reply right away, my head swimming with exhaustion. I could barely focus on his words. I only nodded, slowly dropping down until I was sitting against the wall, my limbs trembling. The energy of the void had drained me in a way I couldn’t quite explain. I had never felt this exhausted before, not after any spell, not after any battle.

This was different.

For now, there was nothing I could do but rest, and I knew Snape needed a moment too.

His hand twitched, and he winced again, his gaze hardening, though the usual malice wasn’t there. The briefest flicker of something passed between us. Perhaps it was gratitude. Perhaps it was just a begrudging acknowledgment of my power. Whatever it was, it was enough to break the ice between us, just for a moment.

It took monumental effort on my part, but I managed to grab my own restorative potions from one of my pockets. Uncorking the vials, I downed them one after the other before sagging down in exhaustion again.

Before long, however, I felt a rush of energy go through my body, supercharging my cells back to a stage in which I could move. Using this rush, I slowly forced myself up again, pushing up against the wall until I was standing upright.

A moment later, I took a step forward, and then another. Maintaining my balance was a minor struggle, but I managed to do it, somehow. I moved to stand in front of Snape, eyes narrowed and fists clenched at my sides. My heart was pounding, not just from the threat of the situation we’d just been in but from the anger that simmered beneath the surface. How could he be so blind? How could someone so intelligent, so calculated—

I stopped that thought process and instead decided to air it right out at him. “You almost died, you know that?”

He stiffened, his usual caustic retort hanging on the edge of his tongue, but it never came. Instead, he stood there, his lips pressed into a thin line, a flicker of something— something almost like regret— crossing his features. I could see the brief hesitation in his eyes, the way his chest rose and fell, as though he were trying to suppress the fury that bubbled up inside him.

I watched, knowing I’d struck a nerve. But I wasn’t backing down, not this time. “I told you—”

He finally opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it as he winced, the damage to his hand making itself known again. Pulling his sleeve back, my eyes widened as I saw his forearm missing long strips of skin, flesh and bits of bone all the way to his elbow.

“Snape, you…”

The man shook his head, instead reaching for another potion in another pocket— a yellow concoction I’d never seen before— and downing it in one go. He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again and leveling me with his glare.

His anger was there, but tempered, somehow, by the realization that I had a point. He didn’t say the words I expected; there were no venomous retorts or any insults.

No, he simply nodded, a sharp, almost imperceptible gesture. Acknowledgment.

For the life of me, that felt more unsettling than the actual effect the void had on him.

There was another pause, filled only by the sound of our breathing, the tense silence between us like an unspoken battle for dominance. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, though it didn’t carry the usual malice. Instead, it was more… calculating. We were still barely allies, brought together merely by convenience, but this moment felt strangely like an impasse. The silence stretched, and just as I thought he might speak again, he instead broke it with a sharp glance at my face.

“Both of your eyes are white now, Clarke.” Snape said. His voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable edge in his words. His eyes tracked my face carefully, waiting for my reaction.

I froze. “What?”

I could feel the panic rising in my chest.

Both eyes. White. My hands instinctively went to my face, as if my sense of touch could help me see the change. The weight of Snape’s words, the coldness in his tone, made it all the more real. The fear began to creep up my spine like ice, slowly freezing me in place.

No, no, no.

The memory from the past rushed back to me: the boggart showing me a potential future version of myself. Both eyes white. Bloodstained hands. The horror of what I might become— of the things I might do. The fear that I would kill those who mattered to me. That I would become nothing more than a monster, a tool of the void, consumed by the very power I was trying to control.

My pulse quickened. The room around me seemed to blur, the edges of my vision sharpening and distorting. I was losing control.

But then, something happened. It was subtle at first— a faint shift, like a brush of warmth against my consciousness, an intangible presence I couldn’t quite grasp. It felt like a hand, gentle but firm, pulling me back from the brink. It was Alef Ard, his presence flowing through me like a steady stream of calm energy. The void, which had been pulling at my edges, began to recede. I could feel myself grounding again.

Reassurance.

I was not lost. I was still here. I was still human.

The feelings echoed in my soul as the cold terror that had gripped me slowly dissolved. The sharpness in my vision began to soften, the distortion fading into the background. But as it did, I felt a deeper shift. I didn’t know why, but I felt it. And when I focused again, I realized without even looking… my other eye had turned black.

I blinked. Twice. “And now?”

“It is as before.” He affirmed, and I took a deep breath.

He didn’t seem entirely comfortable with what was happening, but I couldn’t decipher if he was more concerned for me or for himself. Either way, he wasn’t pressing the issue, and I didn’t have the energy to ask for clarification.

“Good, good.” I swallowed, my throat tight. “And… your hand?”

Snape glanced at his injured hand, which was still visibly torn and raw, but not bleeding anymore.

“It’s fine.” He said.

“You’ll likely need—”

“Phoenix tears, yes.” Snape cut me off, some confidence returning to his voice. “Though I would need to explain this to the Headmaster.”

“I was going to suggest Dragon’s blood.” I said, annoyance flashing across my face. “I’ve dealt with this before. You need a powerful source of blood; though, a Phoenix’s tears would work well in its regenerative power, and would require no preparation.”

“Dragon’s blood…” Snape muttered, nodding as he seemed to confirm something to himself. “I see— your forced confession of Auror Turner… It was to get that?”

I shook my head, feeling both guilt and embarrassment over the entire debacle. “Not my brightest of ideas, but I had no other avenues to explore, and I didn’t understand this world as well as I thought I did.”

“And an innocent man died for it.”

“You have no business talking to me about the death of innocents, Snape.”

“Hmph.” Snape said, shaking his head, though he didn’t chastise me for it.

I nodded, but my mind was elsewhere. My focus was on the Resurrection Stone, the artifact that had brought me here in the first place.

It still floated between us both. I moved towards it and reached to take it. I stopped at Snape’s expression, and shook my head with a light smile.

“The void cannot harm me, but I expect it will take a long time for its energies to settle… Until then, I’ll keep this safe.” I said firmly as I took the Resurrection Stone and held it in my open palm. “Away from Hogwarts for now. Away from anyone who might… misuse it.”

Snape’s gaze lingered on the Stone, his lips twisting slightly. “Yes, because Potter will completely ignore the temptation of getting his hands on it, even if he had no idea of its true value.”

“No. You’re wrong about that.” I said. “Harry knows better than to touch my things. We are brothers, after all.”

Snape’s eyes flicked toward me, and for a split second, I saw a glimmer of something in them— maybe respect, maybe annoyance, maybe both. But he didn’t comment further. Instead, he simply nodded, as if resigning himself to the fact that we were both bound by the weight of our responsibilities.

I still couldn’t shake the unease that settled in my chest, but it would have to wait.

“You’re sure you’re fine, then?” I asked, my tone more uncertain than I meant it to be. I wanted to leave this place, but something about Snape’s silence made me pause. Did he truly think he was fine? Or was he only saying so to dismiss the topic? “I don’t want you dying, and then having to deal with someone tracing anything back to me, and blaming me for it.”

Snape’s response was immediate.

“Yes.” He said curtly, though there was a slight edge of bitterness in his tone. “I’ll be fine. Now, go. You’ve done what you came here for. I expect to be contacted the moment the Stone’s energies are under control, Clarke… Or there will be consequences.”

I hesitated for a moment. “Sure. I’ll be in touch.”

With a small, almost imperceptible nod, I turned to leave. As I stepped toward the door, I felt his gaze linger on me, sharp and calculating. But I didn’t look back. There was nothing left to say.

I roamed the castle aimlessly for a while after leaving Snape’s office. The Disillusionment Charm cloaked me in invisibility, making me just another shadow in the halls. I didn’t have a clear destination in mind, just needed to clear my head, let the weight of the meeting with Snape sink in.

Maybe I should have just let the void kill him. I thought. It would’ve been easy, and there’d be absolutely no trace of him left, save his House Elf potentially telling Dumbledore?

I thought about it for a moment; yes, he seemed like the type to have several contingencies in order, just in case he was betrayed.

Besides, I still needed the man, regardless. Having the Stone of Resurrection was one thing, but using it to bring someone back to life was not in my power. If anyone could achieve that, it was Snape. He had the motivation to aid me in the crafting of the second piece of the puzzle— a Philosopher’s Stone.

For now, I could not touch him, but when he was of no more use to me, well…

Eventually, I found myself heading toward an empty classroom, the solitude calling to me. I slipped inside, the room eerily quiet. Helena was there, floating by the window, her translucent figure bathed in the soft silver light of the moon.

She looked beautiful in that moment— almost otherworldly, and for a brief second, I forgot about everything else. She was watching the grounds, her eyes distant, as if lost in thought.

She turned as I stepped inside, her gaze shifting to me.

“How did it go with Snape?” She asked, her voice soft but laced with curiosity.

I couldn’t help but give her a smile, though it was tinged with bitterness. “You already know, Helena. I’m sure you felt something through both your link with me, and the one you have with Alef.”

She smiled, her eyes twinkling with a quiet knowing even as Alef buzzed excitedly in my head.

“It wasn’t so obvious at the time, though.” She said. “The power… I felt it. It was… remarkably odd. That’s why I hadn’t approached you before.”

That last part made me pause. “Odd?”

Her expression shifted, becoming more serious.

“I see something else in you now, Adam. Your soul has patched together even more.” She said, struggling to find the right words.

I frowned at that, feeling a knot form in my stomach.

“My soul? You saw it… stitching itself together? But that doesn’t make sense. My soul was already fractured when I was reincarnated. I know that. The Abyss helped… but this? This feels different. The void— it’s like it’s rebuilding me, but why?”

Helena didn’t answer, and I moved to sit on a nearby desk. “What the Hell is happening to me?”

Helena’s eyes softened with empathy, but there was still uncertainty in her gaze. “I don’t know, Adam. I don’t have the answers. But what I do know is that something is changing inside you. Something that goes beyond just power. I don’t think it’s only the void, but maybe something more. Something you haven’t fully understood yet.”

I let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through my hair.

“I don’t know what to do with this. I don’t want to lose myself. I can feel it slipping away, like the void is trying to swallow me whole.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “Both of my eyes were white, Helena.”

“I see. Your experience with the boggart.” She said, her voice soft.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

She drifted closer, her presence soothing in its own way. “It’s understandable to be afraid, but you’re not alone in this. You don’t have to face it by yourself.”

I looked down at the Resurrection Stone in my hand, feeling it pressing against my palm, grounding me in the moment. It seemed like everything had led to this. The power, the void, the questions. I needed to understand it, understand myself, before it consumed me.

“I think this might help.” I said, looking back up at her. “I think this Stone… it’s connected to more than just death. Maybe it can give me some answers. I have to try.”

Helena’s gaze was serious now, the weight of her words heavy in the air. “You want to use it so soon?”

“Why not? I have to, anyway.” I said firmly. “If I’m going to figure out what’s happening to me, I need to understand the connection between the void and my soul. Using and getting an understanding of the Stone is the only way.”

She hesitated for a moment, but then gave a small nod. “Just remember… This artifact isn’t just a tool for resurrection. It’s a bridge. There’s no telling what crossing it might do to you. You don’t know what you might find on the other side.”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself before turning the Stone in my hand. It felt heavier than before, its power both familiar and foreign.

“I know.” I said softly. “But I have to do this.”

Helena looked at me for a long moment, then gave a quiet sigh. “Very well. Do what you must, my dear.”

I smiled faintly, grateful for her support even if she didn’t fully understand what I was trying to do. “Thanks, Helena. I don’t think I could do this without knowing you’re here with me.”

Her smile returned, though it was tinged with sadness. “I’m always here.”

I smiled back, and looked down at the Stone with curiosity. I supposed I could use the Stone to test a theory of mine…

I turned the Resurrection Stone three times, feeling the familiar pulse of energy surge through the room. The Stone seemed to hum with an ancient, powerful force as I whispered her name into the stillness of the classroom.

“Helena Ravenclaw.” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. The Stone pulsed again, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a sudden jolt, Helena’s form was pulled toward me as if by an invisible force. She took three graceful steps forward, standing before me, her ghostly form shimmering with ethereal light as it seemed to be empowered by something.

I blinked, startled by the intensity of the moment.

“Well.” I said, trying to shake off the heaviness in my chest. “That answers that.”

Helena looked at me with a mix of surprise and something like amusement. “So it would seem.”

A strange sense of relief washed over me. At least now, I knew that the ghost of Helena wasn’t just an echo. She hovered before me, her translucent features faintly glowing in the moonlight that filtered through the window. I couldn’t help but study her, wondering what this moment would mean in the long run.

“So your ghost really is you.” I said, my voice a little softer than I’d intended. I wanted to understand. The Stone had done its job, but there was still so much I didn’t understand about how it worked, about its connection to me. To her.

Helena tilted her head slightly, her eyes focused on mine.

“I think so… I feel different— stronger, in a sense. You’ve pulled me closer, closer than I’ve been in a long time.” She looked down, as if weighing her next words carefully. “I don’t know if this is my true self. My true soul, I mean. There’s a difference, you know? This is… this is something between life and death.”

I nodded slowly, taking in her words.

“This isn’t the full version of you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even, though I could feel the tension tightening in my chest. “It’s just your… echo? A fragment?”

She gave a soft smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I suppose you could say that. I’m still bound by this form, this… shadow. You’ve pulled my essence, Adam, but I’m not truly whole. Not as I was in life.”

I frowned, disappointed but not surprised. This was just confirming what I already knew about the Resurrection Stone. It wasn’t a tool for true resurrection, not really. It brought something back, sure, but not in a way that could fully restore the person.

It was more like a bridge— a fragile link between the living and the dead. It empowered her ghost, which confirmed that her ghost was indeed a fragment of her complete self, and not a separate, non-sentient entity.

I took a step closer to her, the stone still heavy in my palm. “So, you’re not completely… you? You’re stuck somewhere in between? Does it hurt? My knowledge tells me that using the Stone causes the specters who come to me pain.”

Helena’s gaze softened, but she didn’t answer immediately. I could feel the sadness radiating from her as if the very air around her was heavy with it.

“There is no pain— nothing physical, at the very least. And though I feel more powerful, more corporeal, I know that I am still a spirit. This is not true life, as much as I wish it were different. I am sorry I cannot…” She trailed off, as if something she wanted to say was stuck in her throat.

“It’s not your fault.” I said, nodding. “And bringing you back… is it something you want?”

Helena studied me, her expression unreadable for a moment.

“I wish for it, but… Is it even possible?”

“I could—”

“I can surmise your intent, my dear.” Helena said. “I have been linked to you for a long time. You wish to use the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“I do.” I said, and was surprised at my own vehemence. “Maybe, by combining the two, I could restore your body, and therefore create a place for your soul to be housed…”

“A rudimentary plan, to be sure.” Helena said, shaking her head. “But not without merit— that I’ll grant you. Are you sure you’ll have the time?”

“What do you mean?”

“The world is changing, Zero.” She said, gesturing towards the world outside of the window. “You’ll be facing threats to you and yours from all sides, soon enough. Won’t this be yet another burden on you, my love?”

“I—”

“And you’re changing as well. The power I felt… it’s more than just the void. There’s something in you, something dark and something bright. And it’s pulling you in ways I can’t predict.” She took a step closer, her form flickering slightly. “But that’s what worries me, Zero. Because I don’t think you understand the full extent of it.”

The air around us felt charged, like something was about to snap. I could feel my pulse quicken, my thoughts swirling faster than I could keep up with. Helena was right. I didn’t fully understand what was happening to me, but I couldn’t afford to wait for answers anymore.

Time was running out, and so were my options.

I looked down at the Resurrection Stone, feeling the pull of it like an anchor, its power vibrating against my fingertips. My eyes narrowed.

Maybe things weren’t as hopeless as I thought. Three turns of the Resurrection Stone, and I could have tutors in any branch of magic… Perhaps even Alchemy. Yes, this will do just fine.

“You are considering using the Stone, aren’t you?”

I laughed. “You know me too well.”

“Well, you are staring at it.” She said. “It’s our only way forward.”

“True.” I said, taking a breath. “Then, I guess we keep moving forward then.”

Helena nodded, her eyes locking with mine. “Together, then.”

And then, just as I was about to turn away, something caught my attention. A tapping sound, soft at first, then more insistent.

I looked up, and there, on the window, floated Absol. She was staring at me with those pale white eyes, eyes that mirrored my own. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Absol!” I said, grinning before looking at Helena. “You called for her?”

“You do need a way out of here.”

I exhaled, my grin morphing into a small smile of fondness. “True enough, but let’s spend some time together, first. C’mon, Absol, let’s get you in here…”