Title: Shadows and Farewells
The night clung to the city like a velvet shroud, thick and suffocating. The streets whispered of secrets, old debts, and unfinished business.
Only one soul sensed the shadow beside her — unseen by all others.
Natasha Romanoff moved silently through the dark alley, her breath even, but her eyes sharp, catching every flicker of light. The world around her pulsed with tension, the kind that gnaws beneath the skin.
Then he appeared.
Daniel.
Not a ghost, not a memory — but a presence, impossible to deny, draped in the quiet authority of inevitability.
She was the only one who could see him.
No one else sensed the chill trailing in his wake, the slow, deliberate breathing of death incarnate.
He looked at her, dark eyes piercing, gloves clasped tight as always. His coat, long and black, swallowed the dim light around him.
"Natasha," he said, voice smooth but laced with something ancient, something final.
Her body tensed, heart tightening — no fear, only understanding. "Daniel."
He nodded, slow. "I came for you."
She exhaled, steady. "I expected as much. I'm not afraid."
Daniel smiled — but it was not a smile for warmth. It was the kind of expression that promised inevitability.
"I'm not here to take you."
Natasha blinked, surprised. "Then why—?"
"To offer you a choice."
The city around them dimmed, shadows deepening, folding into a silence so thick it pressed into her chest.
"Walk with me," Daniel said, voice almost a whisper. "Walk beside the end — my queen."
Natasha held his gaze, her soul bare beneath the veneer of iron.
"Why me?" she asked, voice steady but heavy.
Daniel's eyes flickered with memories — battles, losses, moments she could never forget.
"Because you've danced on the edge longer than most," he said. "Because you know what it means to hold death in your hands and stare it down."
She swallowed. "And if I say yes?"
"Then you join the shadows," Daniel replied, his tone low, final. "Not as a victim, but as a sovereign."
Natasha's gaze hardened, the weight of lifetimes pressing down.
"I'll think about it," she said quietly.
Daniel nodded. "Take your time. But remember — death waits for no one."
With that, he melted back into the darkness, leaving Natasha alone with her thoughts and the ghost of a promise.
The world shifted.
The night grew colder.
Godric's Hollow held its breath.
The massacre was beginning.
Invisible, Daniel moved through the shadowed streets — a specter unbound by mortal laws.
The ceifadores danced behind him, silent and relentless.
Voldemort, deep within his hideout, felt it — a chill crawling across his skin, a presence older and colder than any magic he wielded.
He froze.
Something greater than ambition had come to watch.
Daniel arrived at the Potter home moments after the first shots had fallen.
James lay broken, wand slipping from his grasp.
Daniel's eyes darkened as he reached out, touching the fragile thread pulling James's soul from his body.
"Peace is a lie," Daniel murmured, voice cold as winter steel.
James's spirit staggered, confused but drawn toward the inevitable.
"You don't know what you're doing," James whispered, a plea tangled with regret.
"I do," Daniel replied. "This is the path. The beginning and the end."
The shadows curled tighter, guiding James's soul to its rest.
Upstairs, Lily stood firm, heart pounding, wand raised.
Voldemort sneered, green light crackling at his fingertips.
The killing curse flew.
Lily's soul peeled away like mist, fragile but fierce.
Daniel waited, calm as the grave, meeting her gaze.
"You carry the weight of what's to come," he said softly.
She nodded, understanding the price.
"Protect him," she breathed.
Daniel bowed his head. "I will watch. Not to save — but to ensure balance."
Lily's form dissolved into the shadows, leaving the house empty but for the infant's soft cries.
Daniel knelt by the cradle, eyes scanning the child marked by destiny.
"Chaos begins here," he whispered.
The shadows writhed behind him, ceifadores ready.
The weight of worlds rested on fragile shoulders.
Daniel vanished, the cold night swallowing him whole.
The morning light crept over the horizon as a tall figure approached — the old, wise presence of Albus Dumbledore.
His eyes met the lingering trace of Daniel's shadow.
A silent acknowledgment passed between them.
The game had begun.
END OF CHAPTER