chapter fourteen, a soul for hades

t o m

THE LOSS OF A BELOVED ONE IS SOMETHING HE HASN'T EXPERIENCED. What were his parents' deaths? What meant to him to blame someone else for his wicked job and watch them die? Nothing. In the laws of human science, in their feelings - you needed to feel something; anything - remorse, grief, anger. All Tom knew was the infuriating, gnawing feeling of the anger to be something more. To be a pureblood.

It didn't sit right with him not knowing that Evelyn was channelling/stealing power from Igor Krakov. It didn't sit right with him that she expected him to invite Igor to the mansion. But what hurt him the most was that she didn't tell him about her plan. About her disappearance. About her wish to end Krakov once and for all.

     And now her struggling body was not only trying to stay alive, but it was coping with the power that was flowing in her body. He could feel it. How much more powerful she became. How the dead body of Krakov gave her a glorious amount of strength. He wanted to have it - the unexplored power, the depths of her family magic, of the magic of the body. But all he could think about was the poison-painted lips of hers and the dagger stuck in her side.

     Her hands gripped his frame for support and he pushed his hands underneath her armpits, holding her steady. He didn't know what to do. It seemed overpowering to stay like this as he was thinking of an antidote to give her and for an opportunity to take out the dagger— but which one to do first?

     Pressing her forehead to his chest, she winced, "Take out the dagger when I say," she demanded and he didn't answer anything but took it as a sign to drag her stubborn body out of the circle and pushed her back to the wall, supporting her body with his hands.

     Her cheeks were flushed, eyes terrified from the pain, but that attractive smirk never seemed to leave her lips. He didn't know what was going to happen, but she gave him a nod and he grabbed the handle of the dagger and gripped it with a shaky breath— what if he will hurt her more— gripping it tight, getting ahold of himself he pushed it out of her side with a loud squelch - skin versus the metal and a gush of blood followed.

     Her lips moved - a silent chant leaving her lips that made him recall his Latin knowledge. The ground started to slightly shake, taking him back with the power inside of her as the blood flow started to slow, the cheeks of her losing their colour and eyes shutting close.

     It wasn't every day Tom Riddle acknowledged the power and didn't feel like murdering the other for it. Deep down, he craved the talent she had, knowing that it would make him indestructible. But he didn't itch with the desire to destroy her for it - he needed her, he craved her validation and he will do anything to make sure she will stay with him.

     Brown eyes of her opened as she lifted her sticky from the bloody shirt to look at the stained skin without a wound. A pleased smile sat on her lips, exhaustion slumping on her shoulders: "He's dead."

     "You didn't tell me."

     "You wouldn't have let me proceed if you would've known," she pointed out and she was right - he wouldn't have placed her in such danger.

     "For a good reason," he slightly nudged his chin to the place where just was a bleeding wound.

     Pushing her back against the wall, she exhaled deeply - clearly tired. "Are you afraid I'd leave you?"

     Yes.

     "You keep wanting to get some sort of emotion from me, Evelyn," he disagreed.

     "You didn't answer my question."

     Tom walked closer, pushing the fire strands away from her face, loving the way his hand cupped her cheek - it felt perfect. "I won't lose you through your idiocy, my darling. I'd prefer to know what you are planning to do and where— a such nuisance to go after you."

     Her eyes bore into him— she didn't believe him and he knew that. But he won't give her the satisfaction of telling her how much he couldn't stop thinking about her.

     Without saying anything, she snuck her hand into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, taking out a little cigarette holder. Opening it, she took one and placed it between her fingers as she walked out of the room, through a corridor into the balcony as he followed her.

     Stepping out, he was met with a gust of wind and the chilly air of Siberia. The cold wasn't affecting his body anymore— the Horcruxes were making him less bothered by heat and cold. But the little hair stood on her hand and he slipped the jacket off him and placed it over her shoulders as she lighted the cigarette end with the tip of her fingers.

Inhaling the smoke and exhaling into the cold, winter air, she passed the cigarette to him as she leaned onto the trails of the balcony, looking into the depths of the forest.

Pushing the cigarette to his lips, he didn't mind that it was poisoned from her lips, knowing he won't die from something like this and he inhaled the toxic fumes, looking at her.

And there she said it, "I love you."

      His mind went blank, blowing out a puff of smoke from his lips, a little smile overtaking his blank expression. "Say it again," he demanded, crushing the bud of the cigarette on the metal railing. He didn't care about the cigarette. All he wanted was to look into her eyes and get taken back by her words.

     "Ask me nicely, dearest," she softly exclaimed, a smirk playing with her lips.

     He loved when she demanded him, demanded him to do anything. He would murder someone if she would ask him. Because it was her. Oh, he would get on his knees and do everything for her. Since she was his. And he was not going to lose her.

     "Say it again, darling," he brushed the strands of hair off her face as he placed his hands on her jaw, his icy eyes meeting her with an almost pleading look, "Please."

     A soft smile overtook her features and a whisper reached his ears, "I love you. Even if you will never say it back to me. Even if you keep on telling yourself to not show any emotions around me. I am not afraid to tell you that I fell in love with the dreadful part of yours. With your arrogance and the way you are hungry for power."

     Pressing his lips to her forehead, a genuine smile tugged on his corners - genuine. It scared him how much her words affected him, but he allowed himself to dive deep into them. She loved him. All of him. The knowledge of having her was freeing, but it was worrying him - what would he do if he would lose her? How would he deal with the pain of loving her when she is gone? He had to do something.

     "You always find a moment to insult me, my darling," he murmured against her skin, pushing his chin down to meet her eyes.

      A sly shadow flew through her eyes, "Me loving you won't make it easier for you to deal with me."

     "Clearly."

     Sighing, she winced, "How about making me an antidote?" The poison must be still draining the strength out of her, but she was holding on well. "I'd like to kiss you without killing you."

      Naming the reason, he breathed out laughter and pressed his lips against hers, without a second wasted. The poison was sweet and he had to ignore the fact that she killed Igor by kissing him, but he gave into the moment of the softness and coldness of his lips that ignited the fire inside of his the soul splitting taken away.

     Pulling away, he felt the sting of the poison on his lips, but it only made him chuckle— this poison was strong, but it was specifically made for Igor and now him. "As if I am afraid of your poison, love."

     "I take my words back," she shook her head, walking away from him. "You are insufferable and I loathe that."

      The genuine smile overtook him whole and he followed the clicking of her heels with only one thought only— protecting her.

•·················•·················•

THE CALMNESS OF HER PEACEFULLY SLEEPING BODY WAS LULLING THE WHOLE ROOM. Her marked, delicate body was gently stroked by his cold touch - his scent lingering on her body with the hint of her perfume. Only now he realised that he much more preferred his scent on hers than the blood orange perfume.

The warmth of her body was igniting his touch, reminding him of their wickedness only a few hours ago. Having her in such an intimate way was only pushing him closer to his insanity - he needed her, he needed to protect her.

Evelyn was his weak spot for the world to know.

Pushing his hand to her wrist, he slowed her pulse down enough for her to black out, her breathing barely changing as he peppered soft kisses on her bare shoulder as an apology or a chant that she will understand why he did it.

He pushed his hands underneath her, picking her body up with the blanket that covered her as he was already dressed. Pressing her fragile body to his chest, he made his way out of his chambers into the basement where most of his poison-making stuff was held. However, he went further through the mossy stones, opening a wide, creaky wooden door to reveal a stone room with a variety of candles and splattered books on the floors.

Placing her down in the middle of the floor, he made sure to cover the floor beneath her so she wouldn't get cold. Placing a soft kiss on his lips, he raised on his feet and closed the door and with a flick of his wrist, the candles lit one by one.

A pang of uncertainty entered his chest, but he ignored it. It must be done. She must become his Horcrux.

Grabbing a dagger from a little table nearby, he felt the way his throat dried out as it will be the first time he will make someone and something into a Horcrux. A murder was necessary for a Horcrux to happen and if he wanted for it to be her, she needed to be killed first in order for his soul to set inside of her.

Walking over to her body, he kneeled next to her, watching the way her body slightly move - she was waking up. As soon as her eyes opened, he didn't wait a moment for her to use her magic to get out of her and he plunged the dagger inside of her chest, feeling the way his own heart cracked from breaking her ribs.

Her painful eyes met his, tears leaving her eyes as her mouth opened into a wail. The trembling body of her only made him push the dagger deeper, the squelch of her tissue and organs making him sick to the stomach.

"Tom?" she managed to breathe out, eyes slightly moving down to look at the dagger pushed inside of her, meaning she had a few seconds left to breathe.

The confusion and the horrid pain in her eyes, in her flowing tears, made him choke out a sob, realising what he did— he will fix it, he knew what he had to do. "It's okay, Evelyn. I will make sure no one will hurt you again," he replied and his voice almost sounded unknown to anyone else— laced with the poisonous possessive trait.

Struggling to breathe in since the dagger pierced her lungs, her shoulders relaxed and the tremors of her body made him feel weak. What has he done? What has he done? What has he done? What has he done?

Raising on his feet, he extended his hands and pushed them to his heart, starting to chant: "Da animae requiem, immortalitatem cupio. Tibi offero sanguinem, qui venas meas maculabit, qui conscientiam meam bonamque voluntatem maculabit. Animam meam divide in duas. Frustra confringe ossa mea."

He kept repeating, feeling the familiar excruciating pain inside of him deepen and deepen. The words came out as a struggle as she kept chanting, dropping on his knees as an omit of light came out of him as his soul was splitting into something painful and wicked.

The pain was excruciating. It was terrifying and it made him wish for it to stop— but he has done this before. He could do it again. For her. For them.

The last time he said those words, the light disappeared and he fell to the stone floor, feeling numb and tingly at the same time. His whole body was burning with the pain that was easing up and as each moment passed he felt less of his surrounding - the cold stone wasn't cold, it felt neutral. The hardness of the stone was soft.

Raising on his knees, he smiled in the victory that was his pain and he moved to Evelyn, only to find her still. He felt the soul piece of his inside of her - it was raw and unattended. Yet the pool of blood deepened and he took the dagger, trying to heal the wound that wasn't responding to his words at all.

He froze.

The crimson pool widened.

Evelyn was pale as death.

There was a reason Tom Riddle decided to make everyone suffer. One is known to everyone, but the other died in the basement of his own making. The screams of the night when Evelyn Hawthrone-Orlova died plagued all of the wizards of the world as the creatures in the wood were afraid to leave. The screams of the most powerful wizard in the world were a sign of his ambitious self and the insanity that left him without her.

So afraid for someone else to hurt her, that he accidentally ended her himself. And for that, the whole world had to pay.

author's note:

I can sense your reactions and I am not sorry— Evelyn's death was planned from the moment I started writing this book and I hope you all cried as much as I did. I wanted her death to be as indescriptive and as unexpected as most of the things in this book. This book is about their love and it almost feels like a vivid dream - I hope you felt it as well.

I want to thank you all for the wonderful support of this book! I am so happy you have gone into this wicked and torturous journey of Evelyn and Tom with me! Thank you all <3

If you have any questions about this book, I'd be willing to post a Q&A! So write your questions!

p.s. read the epilogue if you are okay with crying

yours truly, m.n