1. In the Snow by Burning Star
A silence had unfurled in the night, a silence so bitter, so chilling, and so thick that it unerringly resembled the thick layer of snow that had so recently fallen to obscure the icy ground and muffle his footsteps as he left.
There was no single sound to break it; no creak from the cold bed above as she woke to find him gone, no pleading voice whimpering in the darkened room, no soft cry as the boy recognized the man that was leaving his life for good, no crackle of the fireplace to announce an interference that would have been welcomed if it had come… but there was nothing to break the silence in the air, the tension that mounted to a crescendo, and so there was no action to stop the event from taking place.
Part of it must have been the war talking, the long and hard days filled with endless struggle towards unreachable goals, but it seemed that there had never been a winter so hopeless in his life, which had been, in itself, filled with long and hopeless winters. The combat dragged on and on and there was no end in sight, no light on the horizon.
Immediately as he stepped into the night, clutching the threadbare traveling cloak, the frosty air bit at him like the wolf he became once a month, chilling him to the core just as these thoughts chilled his heart, and acting as yet another reminder to freeze him in his tracks, to force him to turn back while he could.
But no, there was no way other than this, for they were surely watching, waiting for a chance to slip into his life and take from it all that they could, as they had before. They would creep in cowardly in the night and in a single moment, the spineless followers and their heartless leader would change, as they always did, the direction of the world. To stop it, he had to get out fast.
There was only one thing to make this easier, to make the torture worth it, and it was one thing he could never have, would never know. He wouldn’t get to say goodbye, to claim her love forever…
The power in their world was changing quickly, morphing from being controlled by money and greed to being controlled by a sick type of worship, and by fear. The new Dark Lord had transformed an already broken world into a synonym for hell, all without ever risking his own spineless hide. Clever, cruel, and beneath it all, the weakest being he’d ever known.
All across their war-torn land, his kind clutched to the knowledge that a young boy could save them all, used his name as a weapon against terror, held him as a talisman against the evil that overwhelmed them all. Inside, he knew that a single youth could never be enough if the rest of them did nothing.
Without ties, he could do his best, could sacrifice the rest of this life to the cause, and make the miniscule difference that would have to be his mark. They had died for this war, for the future that they were so sure would come, and he would die in remembrance of them and if not his own, then their, belief in it. And once he was gone, he could only hope that she would recognize that he had done it partially for her, and that she cherished his name as he did hers. The only honor he would get from fleeing would be what she saw fit to grant him after he was gone.
Her love would be his emblem, and his love would be hers… He trudged away through the quickly thickening snow, and the farther he got, the more it appeared that he had never left, as the tiny flakes amassed in infinite piles upon the ground and obliterated all signs of his leaving. If only it could last… if only he were sure…
He wasn’t sure where he was going or what exactly he would do, but anything that made a difference would be welcomed, and anything welcomed by others would make a difference, both in their efforts to combat the unquenchable night of darkness and despair, and in his own attempts of actually being human, of defeating the monster in himself, of halting the wolf’s efforts to destroy everything in his life that he loved, or that loved him… The moon shown above him, and he could have sworn that as he turned on his heel and disappeared into thin air, a howl of loss echoed on the wind.
This night, so normal, so peaceful, so lost amongst the infinite parade of nights and days, ended in a single exhaled breath. She woke with a start, and it was clear and stark the very moment she opened her eyes, as if she had never been asleep. He was gone. The bed was cold, the room was barer than it had any right to be, and she was, once again, alone. He’d left her! Never mind the dangers, the difficulty of his position, the terror and unsurety of war; the only thing that held any of them together was love, and he’d left her! Once again, she was delegated behind the scenes, away from the combat, the fighting; he acted as her general, and left her locked away from his heart, unnoticed… to keep her safe? It didn’t matter.
He was gone, and he had left, and the only way to keep going was to remember his love, to hold onto it like it was tangible, like it really existed, like it had been true. He loved her. He loved her. He loved her… and he had left her. Why? Why? Why…
The little cottage glowed slightly in the twilight, a beacon welcoming him back as he hoped she would, forgetting the travesty and remembering the joy. The snow was still there, the night was still cold, and surely, surely, she was still waiting as she always had. On the threshold he paused, and raised a hand to knock. The impact stung in the icy night, shooting ribbons of pain jolting through his system.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
How long he waited he never knew. The only thing he remembered, afterwards, was that she never answered, and he had continued his journey, away again as always, with the pain piercing his hand a mere echo to that in his heart.
Until he saw her.
She was just sitting there in the snow in the last throes of night, curled into a ball against the misery eating away at her soul, desolate and deserted, and the sight broke his already shattered heart at the same time that it healed it. Without a word, he crept over to her and knelt at her side.
“Nymphadora.”
Again, she never answered, but this time he didn’t need it because, amid the violet light of the coming dawn that was reflected in her eyes, he saw the emotion there that he needed to see, just as she saw it in his own eyes. Love survived all trials, and rose again like a phoenix from the ashes or the sun from the night sky.
The silent message traveled instantaneously between them, the question and the answer.
If you love me, won’t you let me know…