"I hear you've been pleading for my whispers."
"You…"
Delphini stared, dumbstruck, at the man in the black robe before her.
Karlsas—the Dark Lord who'd emerged in her darkest hour, striking down the Ministry with ruthless power! Though his eyes were hidden beneath the robe, Delphini felt them piercing into her, as if he saw straight through her soul.
In her dreams, she'd seen his face countless times—stormy nights, the Black Lake surging, the throne of the Dark Lord…
Fragmented, chaotic scenes replayed in her mind, but always, he stood at the center, revered by all.
At first, Delphini didn't know why she dreamed of him. She'd only heard whispers in Knockturn Alley about Karlsas, a man wanted by the Ministry, cloaked in shadow and death.
And now, here he was again.
Delphini had a burning premonition: Follow him. Follow this man.
By his side, she'd shed the filth of her past and rise, radiant and untouchable, before the entire world! With Karlsas, she'd stand in the spotlight, commanding awe, bending all to her will.
No one would dare mock her heritage or sneer at her origins again. The Blacks—those so-called purebloods who'd turned their backs when she begged for help, when she was barely clinging to life—would cower. No one would dare call her a cursed mistake, a blight that shouldn't exist.
A few months ago, she'd learned from Mr. Borgin that Karlsas, the Death's Pilgrim, had declared her his most trusted follower.
Delphini had been floored, utterly gobsmacked.
To her, Karlsas was a god poised to upend the world—a figure far beyond her so-called father, Voldemort.
Voldemort didn't deserve the title of Dark Lord. He was a pathetic fool who couldn't even protect his own daughter, defeated by a baby of all things. People hyped up his terror, but he wasn't Voldemort—he was just Tom Marvolo Riddle.
The true Dark Lord? That was Karlsas.
Though Karlsas rarely appeared in public, his presence was like a thunderclap. The Ministry's best couldn't touch his mastery of dark magic. It only cemented Delphini's belief in the visions from her dreams.
Karlsas would ascend to godhood, and all she had to do was follow.
Follow a being greater, grander, and more glorious than the idiot her mother had once served.
Snapping back to reality, Delphini realized she'd nearly forgotten to breathe, her eyes locked on the robed deity before her. She'd never imagined the embodiment of her faith would tear through the mist like this, standing right in front of her.
"It's really you…" Her voice cracked, fragile as dust.
Dylan flicked his hand, and her wand, which had fallen to the floor, floated back into her grasp.
"You're surprised to see me?" he said, stepping closer with an elegant, commanding presence.
The cold tip of his wand pressed lightly under her chin, lifting her face. The touch was gentle, almost lover-like, but it sent a shiver like lightning down her spine.
Her legs nearly gave out.
"Rummaging through this dump for scraps—are you searching for Voldemort's arrogance?" Dylan's voice was sharp. "Wake up, my little Death Eater. See who you should truly serve."
Delphini's breath hitched, her mind exploding with realization.
"Father…"
The word slipped out before she could stop it.
She froze. Dylan's eyes, hidden beneath the robe, flickered.
What's that now?
He narrowed his gaze. "Don't use that failure's title. From now on, you need only know one thing—"
His fingertip grazed her lips, magic pulsing as he deepened the Dark Mark's hold on her.
"I am your king."
Dylan wasn't entirely sure if Delphini was truly Voldemort's daughter. He vaguely recalled she was born just before the final battle, yet here she was, looking like a young woman in her late teens. The math didn't quite add up.
Delphini clutched her wand, the Dark Mark throbbing beneath her skin, synced to her heartbeat. Feeling his touch, she let out a strange laugh, her eyes glinting with an unhinged spark.
She looked eerily like Bellatrix.
That settled it—Delphini was definitely Bellatrix's daughter. As for the father… that was still up for debate.
"Yes, my lord," Delphini said, dropping to one knee. Her silver-blue hair fell over her face, but it couldn't hide the wild joy in her voice. "I'll give you everything. I swear it on my life."
Dylan stepped back, keeping some distance. Her kneeling put her head at an awkward level—way too close for comfort.
"Swears?" he scoffed. "Just gilded chains mortals lock themselves with. Cheaper than life itself."
He glanced down at her. "Get up."
Delphini scrambled to her feet. "No, I'll follow you unwaveringly!"
Dylan noted the slight tremble in her shoulders, as if she feared her devotion wasn't believed. When he'd used the Imperius Curse on her earlier, he'd glimpsed most of her memories—a wretched life that screamed "tragic villain backstory." No wonder her mind was so warped.
That "father" slip had thrown him off, though. He was only thirteen!
Changing the subject, he asked, "The Blood Diamond. Found it?"
Delphini flinched, her face paling. "You… how do you know about the Blood Diamond?"
Dylan smirked. "Mortals love hiding secrets in shadows, but shadows are my domain."
Delphini bit her lip, ashamed. "I'm sorry, my lord. I haven't found it."
"Fool!" Dylan snapped, keeping up his persona.
But, honestly? Berating someone and having them lap it up felt… kind of great. No wonder Voldemort was so obsessed with control. No wonder Snape managed to play double agent for years—flattery was a powerful tool.
Dylan raised a hand, golden light shimmering as he waved his wand, unleashing a burst of mental energy.
The room came alive in his mind's eye—peeling wallpaper, cracked beams, dusty corners. Every spot, searched or not, was laid bare to him.
Soon, a loose brick in the corner glowed faintly gold.
He glanced at Delphini. "Go get it."
She hesitated, then hurried over, crouching to pry the brick loose. Beneath it was a tarnished copper box, its lid etched with vine patterns.
Delphini's face lit up as she carried it back to Dylan. "My lord…"
"Open it."
She paused, then lifted the lid. Black light seeped from the cracks, revealing a velvet lining—unicorn hair, Dylan recognized instantly.
At the center sat a diamond-shaped, deep red-black Blood Diamond, cradled in a twisted silver briar setting. Its eight uneven facets looked clawed out, radiating a brutal, shattered beauty. Dark red runes on its surface pulsed like living veins, resembling a warped unicorn. A faint wail, like a trapped unicorn's cry, hummed from it. Inside, a frozen black droplet hung suspended.
Dylan snapped his fingers, conjuring light. A broken unicorn's silhouette flickered in the diamond before fading.
"This is the Eternal Night's Lament," Delphini breathed, staring at the diamond in Dylan's fingers, her eyes alight. It was as if the stone was made for her—its wild, twisted design spoke to her soul.
"A cursed trinket made from a unicorn's heart, and you call it Eternal Night?" Dylan sneered.
The curse's persistence could justify the name, in a way. He studied the diamond, feeling its potent curse. Tapping a facet, the red runes boiled like hot oil, and the silver briar's thorns sprouted, the unicorn runes slithering up his wrist like vipers.
With a cold laugh, Dylan grabbed Delphini's neck. She gasped, startled, as the curse flowed from his hand to her throat.
"Ah!" She collapsed, a silent scream trapped in her throat as dark, web-like veins spread under her skin.
The curse had taken hold.
A Blood Diamond forged from a unicorn's heart could twist a unicorn's mind—but its user would be twisted first. A crushing weight bore down on Delphini, warning her against forbidden acts.
But why? Who decided what was forbidden?
If she wanted it, it was right.
Clenching her teeth, Delphini steeled herself. She'd pledged her life to her lord—she could bear this pain. She had to, to prove her worth.
"Curses seek hosts, but understand them, and you can guide them," Dylan said, flicking away the lingering curse marks. He pointed his wand at her. "Analgesia."
A silver-gray light dusted her brow, and the curse's agony faded from her eyes, leaving only numbness.
Seeing her stabilize, Dylan ignored her and studied the diamond. "Unicorn blood—heart's essence, no less."
He sniffed it. A sweet scent hit him, tainted by a foul stench—like a dark wizard who hadn't bathed in a decade.
He grimaced. "Disgusting."
"Something crafted by dark wizards centuries ago?" he mused. "Idiots thought holy blood could make a perfect artifact, even pouring their obsessions into it. Didn't they know a pure creature's backlash would burn their will to mush?"
The silver briar's thorns bore ancient dark wizard runes, the metal sickly gray from years steeped in curses.
"Still, for it to survive this long with such power, fueled by human souls… pity the unicorn blood ruined their vision," Dylan said, sensing the diamond's wild magic.
It could taint a unicorn but not control one. Originally, it was likely meant to dominate them, but no such feat had been recorded. Now, it was just a volatile relic.
"A biting scrap of junk, but those warped runes are intriguing," Dylan muttered. His own Eremite Cthulhu wielded terrifying distortion—Dementors quailed before it—so he knew this power well.
"Maybe with some tinkering, this diamond could be refined," he thought. His alchemy skills weren't bad—he'd cracked the Time-Turner's principles, even if making one was another matter. He might even rival Dumbledore one day.
He moved to return the diamond to its silver cradle, but his gaze caught on the setting. Beyond the slot for this diamond, there were two more.
"Odd."
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