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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any of the characters or ideas that were ingeniously written by JK Rowling...  But I do own Troy Malfoy.

As a side note: I have been on a tremendous hiatus and writer’s block for a while. Sorry about that. That being said, I’ll try to pump out the last chapters as soon as I can, because we’re close. Anyway, editing this chapter killed me because, for the life of me, I cannot understand what the hell I was thinking when I threw some random Polish and Egyptian history stuff into the plot . . . all of that is completely unnecessary, and it makes me seem like an idiot. So, I apologize for that, because I know it doesn’t really make sense . . .


And now... on with the story!



 
The October Hollow
By Darkwing731
-
((--Chapter Eighteen--))
This is the Day

 




October 29
Day 12

By the time Harry woke up for school the next morning, he felt like he would rather take a sleeping potion and stay in bed all day. He had spent all night trying to read Hermione's journal. He surfaced groggily from his turbulent dreams, sealing his eyes against the sunlight and hoping he could float back into slumber. However, the voices of the others boys pulled him from this desire.

"What's wrong with you, mate?" Seamus’ voice said.

"Nothing. I just didn't get any sleep last night. Ginny wouldn’t stop bickering with me and she wouldn’t let me come up here to bloody sleep,” Ron muttered.

"What was she yelling at you for?" Seamus asked curiously.

"You did all your homework,” Neville pointed out in Ron’s defense.

"And you practiced on the pitch for an extra half hour,” Dean piped up. “She’s got nothing to harp on about.”

There was a tense pause, where the silence was only penetrated by shuffling feet. "She wants me to apologize to Harry,” Ron admitted at last. “She says I don’t know the half of what’s going on . . . but he’s being an insufferable git.”

“You haven’t exactly been the cheeriest one on the block, either,” Dean reasoned. “Look. Hermione’s gone. You’re both miserable.”

“Well, I don’t think I should apologize to him!” Ron sniffed. “Ginny can’t make me, even if she wants me to.”

“Maybe not, but would Hermione want you to?” Neville asked. The girl’s name suddenly made everyone quiet, and Harry almost sat straight up in his bed to see if anyone was still there.

"I already feel guilty!” Ron burst out angrily. “Don’t you have a go at me, too!"

“Yeah, yeah . . .”

One by one, Harry heard all the seventh years shuffle out of the dorm, leaving Harry alone in silence. Catching Dean’s last remarks about Harry and Ginny, the Boy-Who-Lived forced himself out of bed, smiling in spite of the situation.

As Harry ambled down to breakfast, sitting next to Ginny, bits and pieces of Hermione’s journaling clung to the surface of his mind. Throughout the years, Malfoy had tormented Hermione with just as much relish as he did Harry and Ron; the Muggleborn knew that if she wanted to avoid tears she would just have to avoid Malfoy, because that was always the consequence of stepping in his way.

But that did not explain what he had overheard Malfoy bragging about to Theodore Nott; Malfoy and Hermione had done something together, something carnal and taboo and very unlike Hermione. Wracking the memory of Hermione’s writing, he tried to find some way to justify Hermione’s insanity.

His thoughts were interrupted by the great flock of owls that swooped into the Great Hall, and Harry’s hand automatically reached up to grab the Daily Prophet. Absentmindedly cutting up his omelet, he unfolded the newspaper with as much vigor as a tortoise, figuring that there would be nothing new to read.

One quick glance at the table of contents rendered him very, very wrong.

Flipping anxiously past reports on the minister of magic, Harry found Rita Skeeter’s article that detailed the one event that had been driving Harry towards the brink of hysteria: the kidnap of Hermione Granger.
 

Kidnap at Hogwarts

Although it has been said that Hogwarts is one of the safest places in the Wizarding world, this presumption was proved devastatingly wrong. On the night of October 17, it was rumored that the impenetrable tomb that was the safety of Hogwarts was broken, and in which one of the smartest witches of the generation was taken during early Halloween festivities.
Miss Hermione Granger, Head Girl and model student, appeared to be missing the next morning and was nowhere to be found. While many rumors that an outside force had taken Miss Granger, sources still agree that there is a Crup among the Kneazles at Hogwarts.






Although an interview with the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, was demanded, it was impossible to book him for questioning. However, that did not stop the Prophet’s most loyal reporter; several people very close to Miss Granger were interviewed instead, the full extent of which can be read in my new book, Rita’s Reading. But regardless of the new book, all those who were interviewed agreed on one very dark thing: this kidnapped was by no means impulsive, but completely intentional. Several other rumors point fingers at another Hogwarts student that aided in the kidnapping of Miss Granger, but whose parents refused to give an interview and denied permission for their child’s name to be printed. Despite this, all those that have been questioned pine for Hermione Granger’s return as much as her parents.






"Hermione was a really good friend," says Susan Bones of Hufflepuff, "She knew a lot and she helped everyone with her homework. She knew just what to say when one of her friends was in trouble. Something like this shouldn’t have happened to her.”





Another student, whose name shall not be revealed, said this: "Yeah, everyone here misses her. It seems that, even in her absence, a lot of the things still remind me of her. Granger knew the answer to every question that any of our professor's asked us, being Head Girl and really smart. I almost miss her hand shooting into the air every five second to answer a question..."

Whether it was her classmates, strangers, loved ones or even school rivals, Hermione Granger is dearly missed and remembered by everyone in the wake of her absence.





Harry was in complete, utter shock. Not only did Rita Skeeter find out about Hermione, but also she had all of her information right! There were no exaggerations, no blatant lies, and no horrid rumors. Stunned, Harry did the first thing that came to mind. "Ron!"

Ron turned to look at Harry slowly, as if shocked to hear his name. "What?" the redhead asked flatly from a few seats down. Nearly throwing the Prophet at Ron, the Weasley took it, reading the page suspiciously. Next to him, Dean and Pavarti peered over Ron’s shoulder, and all at once their mouths were gaping, their eyes bulging with surprise.

"H-How did she find out?" Ron whispered, the color drained from his face.

"What I want to know is how and why she told the truth,” Harry said, throwing a dark look towards the newspaper. “There’s got to be something more in it for her.

"Let me see that!" Ginny demanded, snatching the paper from her brother.

Harry and Ron looked at each other for a split second; it seemed everything was back to how it should’ve been, Ron, Harry, and Ginny teamed up together to fight something together. But that moment passed just as soon as it came, and Ron turned back to Seamus and Dean. Still, Harry thought he saw the hint of an apologetic look on Ron’s face.
 
Now that they had been reunited in their common goal, Harry felt that his day was going better. Although they had not spoken a single word to each other that could be interpreted as ‘I’m sorry’, Harry sensed that on many occasions that Ron opened his mouth to apologize, but perhaps out of embarrassment, did not speak.

When the day came to a close, the unceasing gossip was about Rita Skeeter’s article: everyone wanted to know the identity of the mysterious person that Rita Skeeter interviewed. Many thought it was Draco Malfoy, but Harry and all the Gryffindor knew better. Malfoy would sooner eat a flobberworm than admit to missing Hermione. But it was agreed among most of the school that some Slytherin had spoken up truthfully, because no one else would call her Granger.

Spending his free period and a good portion of his night in the library, Harry poured over Hermione’s journal, hoping he would come across something significant. Yawning, he flipped a page and decided it would be the last entry he would read tonight, for his eyes were beginning to droop.

September 19... It's my birthday today. Ron got me a really pretty necklace with an opal in the middle. He said he heard about muggle birthstones and got me mine... I didn't have the heart to tell him my birthstone is a sapphire.

I've been having the weirdest dreams lately, and I have absolutely no idea what they mean, but I keep having the same ones over and over. I distinctly remember one where I think I'm the daughter of Helen of Troy, whose name was Hermione also. There was a huge battle and everything I saw was only in glimpses.

In another one, I am surrounded by sand and people on their knees, bowing to me, worshipping me. Their language is foreign, but I someone understand it in the dreams. Once or twice I recall someone calling me Nefertiti.

And in another, that happens so often, I am shrouded by darkness, and the only light is the moon, which seems to follow me everywhere. I have dogs at my side, running with me, a bow at my side, and a quiver full of arrows on my back. Sometimes I see two beautiful women with me, and somehow I know we are the protectors of something important, but what?

What do these dreams mean? Am I the long lost relative of Hermione, daughter of Helen? Or am I the last ancestor of Queen Nefertiti of ancient Egypt? Do they mean I am someone significant? Powerful or close to someone who is? I don’t really understand what they mean, and when I go to decipher them in the library, they seem to slip right out of my memory, as if they don’t want to be deciphered. They’re vivid and lovely, but sometimes it’s hard to wake up. Sometimes they seem so real, as if they’re really happening . . .

Harry slammed the book shut, his heart hammering, his mind racing. These odd dreams, it was almost if they had been put into her mind, reoccurring night after night, haunting her... The answer struck Harry so hard that he gasped; his eyes wide. It was so simple... so easy....

Voldemort.

The same thing happened to Harry in his fifth year. Voldemort had subconsciously projected the images of the Department of Mysteries into his head, trying to seduce Harry with the mystery that Voldemort himself had been so obsessed with. What if he had been doing the same thing to Hermione? It couldn't be possible, could it?

His head was spinning. He rubbed his temples in hopes of clearing the migraine now pounding behind his eyes. Somehow, everything started making sense. Everything he read on the moon, all of the dreams, everything he saw— the dreams. Harry realized with jolt that Malfoy knew something about Hermione that no one else did— she was Polish. Harry had no idea what that meant whatsoever, but he was determined to find out.

Ignoring the pounding headache behind his eyes, he searched the shelves for anything to do with Poland or Polish history. Thankfully, he found one book with everything he needed in the first few chapters. He skimmed, his eyes blurring as he looked for key phrases and words, and found them.

After reading certain paragraphs that stuck out, Harry now knew that the Polish were the first originating cultures and societies to hold magic in high esteem, thus making them the start of the most powerful wizards in the world, along with the Greek and the Egyptians who evoked the power and the mysteries of the heavens.

And suddenly it clicked.

Hermione had been having dreams about Nefertiti and Hermione and the Trojan War because she was Greek and Egyptian. Why else would she be having those? Was it because somehow, Voldemort knew what she was and wanted to show her? But then why would he want to show her? Harry was beside himself with confusion. Why would Voldemort frequently project the dreams within her head if they did nothing for him? But then, why would Voldemort kidnap her? Why would he go out of his way to do this for her?

Because he wants Hermione on his side, Harry realized as his stomach gave a sickening churn.

These heritages and backgrounds that made Hermione who she was were all centered on one important thing: they were the basis of the magical world, having firstly manipulated the powers of their world. One very important symbol in all of their magical cultures was the moon, although for different reasons; Harry struggled with this concept, trying to piece together this new information, everything that he had read himself, and the fact that Dumbledore admitted to Hermione having unprecedented powers. Could all of these things revolve around the one factor that tied everything together, the moon?

In one swift movement, Harry grabbed his school bag and snatched the last two library books that he had glanced at a week ago. Because of all his homework and the haunting absence of Hermione, he hadn’t the will to finish them, but that was something that was more important than ever now. He flipped to the chapters of Lunar Phenomenons and looked for an appropriate chapter titles to read under. His eyes fell on one almost instantly: Chapter 13Symbols of the Moon.

Harry couldn't believe it; his body seemed to be moving of its own accord as he flipped to chapter 13. Hermione... it all made sense.... the dreams he had about her. . .the moon.... the fear.... her unknown powers.... her secrecy....

Harry’s eyes raced over the first few paragraphs, but found nothing. He flipped a few pages, his eyes desperately looking for key words. But not once did he see anything that had cropped up in his previous readings . . . His heart sinking, Harry sighed and realized his epiphany was his mind desperately stitching together a solution to ease his worry.

But then, something caught his eye. Narrowing his eyes as he read the few sentences, shock hit him the hardest it had all night.

...And since the beginning of the Wizarding world, the most powerful beings came from Poland, a country with the strongest type of Wizard blood, along with the Greek and Egyptian. Because of the many phenomenal things produced from Poland, the moon has been its symbol. Perhaps this is because of the notable Lumerous witch in the twelfth century and the ceremony performed by the Polish philosopher and inventor, Alexandre Lumerus. However, whatever their reasoning, the moon has a great number of qualities and ties to many important gods such as the Greek goddess, Artemis....

Harry stopped there. His heart was beating furiously. Lumerous witch.... It pounded through his mind like a drum against his skull.... Lumerous witch.... he was stupid... so stupid...  Hands trembling, he reached for his school bag, and retrieved the small book with the silver writing in the corner. He read it, body shaking.

The Lumerous Witch by Alexandre Lumerus.

That was the book. It had been there all along and he never once looked at it. He opened it, not quite getting over the initial shock that he had been so incredibly foolish.

-x-x-x-





An hour later, Harry somehow managed to get back to Gryffindor Tower, although he was not sure how. The text of Alexandre Lumerus’ book was racing through his mind, blurring his vision and numbing his senses. He mumbled to himself incoherently, earning odd looks from people passing by, although he did not care. With all the information that he had just acquired, there was nothing more he could do than ramble like a madman, for the devastating truth was quick to eat away at any sanity he had left.

According to the book, the pure soul of Hermione would be sent into the Underworld unharmed and return with a chosen immortal soul to unite with its body. In order to get into the Underworld, however, the gateway had to be beckoned from the Underworld at precisely the right time or else all would fail. According to Lumerus, on the night of October 31, the heavens would line up, and the gravitational pull of all the adjacent planets would pull the deadly gateway out from the thirteenth house, allowing passage of only the purest soul.

But beckoning the gateway was a deadly event, for the rupture in Earth’s outer later instigated hundreds of mini earthquakes which were sure to kill. Upon the return of Hermione’s return, however, with the chosen immortal soul in tow, it called for her blood in order to seal the union between the soul and body for the chosen one. In the ceremony with Alexandre Lumerus, his beloved was the purest one, and willingly went into the Underworld so that she could grant Alexandre immortality, because she loved him so dearly. This ceremony, then, was not meant for dark purposes, but was based wholly on the foundation of love.

Harry knew better, though. The moment Hermione retuned with Voldemort’s soul and rendered him immortal, she would be killed brutally and savagely, because this ceremony had nothing to do with love, and according to Lumerus, drinking the blood of the fully sacrificed would transfer all of the witch’s powers into the chosen one. The devastating truth that somewhere, Hermione was spending her last moments alive without her friends was a punch in the gut; Hermione was going to be killed, and Harry would never see her again.

Still reeling from shock when he reached the Gryffindor Portrait, he muttered the password, ("Fireflies!") and stumbled into the portrait hole blindly. Harry glanced at the clock; it was 11:09. His conscience still in a state of quandary, he staggered over the couch, sinking into it and gazing into the glowing hot embers. His head was throbbing, much like the dying embers in the fire... he couldn’t believe it... he just couldn't believe it....

"Harry?" Ginny appeared from the staircase, immediately sensing something was wrong with her boyfriend. Tucking a stray hair of her beautiful flaming red hair behind her ear, she approached Harry with caution.

Without warning, Harry jumped up from the couch, seized Ginny by the shoulders and shook her as if he was trying to shake her out of a nightmare. Ginny seized up in fear, and stared wide eyed at Harry as he cried: "Ginny! Hermione's a Lumerous Witch!"

-x-x-x-





October 30
Day 13

"Are you telling me..." Ginny said slowly at breakfast, "that Hermione is not just super brain powered, but super powered as well?”

"Yeah, something like that...." Harry muttered, spooning his cereal around.

Harry had spent the entire night explaining everything to Ginny. This was necessary because they had silently teamed up when it came to the efforts of recovering Hermione, and because he would confess his worst fear: one of his friends dying or crossing to the dark side.

"But... then why isn't she here? She can certainly get out with all those powers she has,” Ginny reasoned.

“I don’t think it works like that. And besides, Hermione might not know anything about why she’s there. She might be completely oblivious to what’s about to happen,” Harry said in an undertone, hoping that no one could hear them. Ginny shot him a forlorn look but said nothing else.

All day, Harry was in a distant fog as he racked his mind for some kind of explanation or excuse for Hermione's misdemeanor of being ignorant of what was going on, but he could find none, and could also not prove that Hermione was ignorant. Perhaps she was entirely aware but could do nothing about it. . . but then again, why hadn’t she looked up these strange, reoccurring dreams while she was still at school?

It didn’t make sense. Nothing was making sense.

-x-x-x-





Over the course of the day, Harry slowly became consumed by one singular thought: saving Hermione. This, of course, posed many difficult problems. He had to find out where she was, how to get there, what time to be there, and how to save her from not only Death Eaters, but Lord Voldemort. And all of this had to happen within two days. And for once, he recognized that he could not do this alone.

As he mulled over these problems in the common room, he was suddenly disturbed. "Harry!" Ginny cried, stumbling through the portrait hole.

"What happened?" Harry asked at once, for Ginny was crying. Without a word she flung herself into his arms, and Harry tried to comfort her best he could, but his hammering heart had already assumed the worst: something had happened to Hermione.

Ron then slowly entered the portrait hole, looking quite on the brink of tears himself. Nearing Harry, the two boys looked at each other, and simultaneously blurted, “I’m sorry.”

After a tense laugh, Harry asked reluctantly, “What happened?”

Ron stared at his friend, and then down at his sister. His eyes, trying desperately to quell tears, clamped shut as he said, “Our cousins were just murdered.

“What?” Harry gasped. “Where?”

“At Beauxbatons Academy. But they tracked down the rest of her family back in Poland . . . and then destroyed half the country . . .”

“Poland?” Harry said quickly.

“Yeah. A lot of students were killed . . . and a lot of families . . . it was just a m-massacre,” Ron mumbled, his voice cracking from the force of holding back tears.

Recognizing that Ron was nearing a breakdown, similar to his sister, Harry proceeded slowly. “What was her name?”

“C-Cassie,” Ginny croaked, her crying subsiding for a moment, before she gave in again. Harry led brother and sister to the couch, where they were met with the glow of the fire.

“Cassidy,” Ron corrected quietly. “She was like our sister. The whole family used to visit every summer, but they had to stop right before first year because Beauxbatons started early… we haven’t seen much of them since . . . but still . . .”

Ron cupped his face in his hands, and Harry knew that Ron had finally given in to the tears that were cascading down his face.

"And the worst p-part is…" Ginny continued with a sob, "They haven't found her body yet! She might've been kidnapped, or—or—“

The three of them sat in a heavy silence, punctured only by Ginny’s sob, while Harry stared into the fire. Soon, after wiping his face, Ron joined him, eyes transfixed on the pulsating embers that were dying.

“I can’t believe this is all happening at once,” Ron muttered, sounding as if he had a head cold. “First Hermione, and now this.  I just wish I knew what was going on . . . I just wish I could help someone . . . somehow . . .”

“Well, err, there have been some recent developments, as far as Hermione,” Harry admitted, growing uncomfortable under Ron’s suddenly fierce gaze. “I would’ve told you sooner, Ron, but you wouldn’t even look at me. How was I supposed to relay this information?”

“You should’ve told me,” Ron hissed, eyes narrowed.

“I’ll tell you now, if you want,” Harry offered. Ron backed off, thankfully; he sank back into the couch with a nod, and glared into the fire.

"First, you’ve got to promise not to explode when I tell you all of this,” Harry warned. Ron shot him a scathing look, and although Harry did not want to continue, he did. “Malfoy kidnapped Hermione. I know it, because I saw it. All of these dreams I’ve been having, well, they aren’t mine.”

As Ron jumped up and began to release a furious roar, Harry whipped out his wand and silenced him. Ron began mouthing angrily, and Harry gestured for him to calm down before continuing. “Hermione was kidnapped on the night of the dance, after you left her by the lake. A lot of things happened to her before Malfoy showed up. She was devastated; she was completely broken down and she cried her bloody eyes out in a heap on the ground. That was when Malfoy showed up. He asked her questions, and goaded her for a bit. Then he kidnapped her the Muggle way after he—"

Harry stopped. Did he dare tell Ron how Malfoy and Hermione shared a content, peaceful moment? At his side, Ginny gave him a small nod.

"After he sort of—well, he sort of—held— her. I know it’s strange, but. . .  then he put stuff on a rag and shoved it on her face and she passed out. They took her. Somewhere. I don’t know where."

There were several moments of silence between them; Ron gazed into the fire, a sad, defeated look on his face.

"She did it to get back at me," Ron mumbled, putting a hand over his eyes in shame. "She did it because I broke her heart. Malfoy was acting all nice and she gave it a stupid go that ruined everything and put us in this situation. Malfoy… oh, I'll kill him." Ron growled, glaring daggers into the fire.

"She did it to get back at you… of course!" Harry exclaimed. Ron looked sharply at him; Harry waved an impatient hand at him as he began to pace, thinking rapidly. “Wait, I have to explain everything else first.”

Pacing around, he said, "Hermione. We know she's not normal. She’s smart and knows everything, but she isn’t just a really smart witch, Ron. There's always been more to her than just her smarts. Hermione is something called a Lumerous witch.

Hermione’s heritage is from all over the place but comes from magical countries that have a strong background, so even though she’s Muggleborn she’s got traces of magic all the way into her roots . . . anyway, a few centuries ago, there was this bloke that tried to make a sort of Elixir of Life by using a Lumerous witch, who had a very magic orientated background from the strongest of the magical countries and apparently was born during some planet thing. . . I don’t know. But that was one of the things that made her a Lumerous witch.”

The information that was being thrown at Ron began to bog Harry down as well, and his summarization of the Lumerous witch began to get more and more vague. “Anyway, in the life of that Lumerous witch, the planet thing happened again, and it was on a full moon, which opened the gate the thirteenth house, which allowed her to go into the Underworld and get a soul for this bloke, but she couldn’t because she wasn’t pure so she died, but he said that all of these things were going to happen—

This is what Hermione’s been kidnapped for!” Harry shouted finally and Ginny started at the volume. “Voldemort’s going to make her go through this bloody portal thing and get him his soul, and—and—“ Saying it aloud was going to make it much, much worse; “And Voldemort will be immortal. And Hermione will be dead.”

Ginny released a jagged breath and held herself. Ron was gaping at Harry as if he had never seen him before. His mouth was opening and closing like that of a goldfish, out of utter shock. It was several moments before he regained control of himself, in which he started muttering under his breath, his eyes closed, his fists clenched, mumbling, thinking.

"Why did that witch die?” Ron asked at last, his eyes still closed.

“It said because she wasn’t pure. Which I’m guessing means they, err, well you know . . .”

Ron looked up, a hint of a smile on his face. "Hermione'll live then! She— we— well, we didn’t do that,” Ron finished awkwardly.

Harry released a heavy sigh and turned around. “Because Hermione is a Lumerous witch, she’s got powers, and she can control things. And Voldemort knows this. Don’t you think that along with being immortal, Voldemort would want these new powers as well?”

“What does that mean?” Ron asked quietly, his eyes wide.

“The only way to get those powers is to… k-kill the witch,” Harry informed him, closing his eyes and holding back a dry sob.

Ron stared at him. “This is insanity,” Ron uttered, looking wildly around the room. He closed his eyes, his hands curled into fists. “This isn’t right!” he bellowed suddenly. “We need to stop it! We need to find her, get her out of wherever the hell she is and take her back because I am not letting her die!" Ron screamed, standing on his feet, his face red.

“I don’t know how!” Harry cried, feeling just as upset as Ron.

"Yes there is, you idiot! Tell the damn Order! Dumbledore will know!" Ron argued.

"Dumbledore is still searching for the damn records at the ministry—! No!” Harry yelled, jumping up. "I forgot! How the hell could I forget!?"

"Let's go! Get the cloak and let's go to the Owlery!" Ron exclaimed. Harry, seeing nothing else to help in the situation, nodded his head vigorously and fled up the stairs and rummaged through his trunk.

Ginny sobered instantly. Both boys gave her an exasperated look as she paused to grab a quill and parchment, but then the three of them tore out of Gryffindor Tower and sprinted to the Owlery. When they got there, the silence of the night was slightly unnerving; the floorboards creaked with a haunting sound, and round, fierce amber eyes of the owls looked down at them in distaste. Paying them no attention, Harry scribbled down a message that he hoped was full of indiscernible riddles to the common outsider, but clear to the Headmaster. Ron and Ginny reread the letter several times to make sure that it wasn't easily deciphered, and when they agreed it was fine, Harry tied the letter to Hedwig, who flew into the black night like a ghost.

As they silently made their way back to the common room, the invisibility cloak completely unused, there was a heavy silence between them. Harry couldn't stand it; he wanted to scream out, demand that Hermione was there with them, even if it meant sacrificing himself to save her. He loved her too much, and a loss such as this would cause permanent damage to his heart.

But whatever was to come, they had to face it. Whether alone or united, the horrific event that would soon be upon them was worse than any sort of torture. The truth of her death was inescapable, undeniable, and irreparable. It was the truth . . . and nothing could that.

-
-x-x-x-
-





Author’s Note: heeeey sooo sorry for not updating in like a year. My bad. I’m really very, very sorry about it. However, I will promise that it will be finished up quickly. By the end of August, definitely.

Anyway, the sole and complete dedication of this chapter, and the rest of the story, is to Chyrsta, who would not leave me alone until I updated this story!


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