Her soul would be found battling the Gods above the stars, defying the reigns of Hades in the Underworld, amid alluring the sorcery of the Wizarding World.
Her notions in her mind would run like whirlwind, quick and destructive. No one, not even Dumbledore would be able to prophesy how powerful the mentality of this witch was. At a first leer, everything dissembled as natural as usual. Although, that is before you take a deeper view, attempting to understand the secrets she kept behind the regal tendrils that weaved though her fingers.
Most of the people Alena's encountered with weren't gifted with the knowledge of Athena. Meaning that they didn't really have a clear understanding of the person standing in front of them.
Except for one other person. One other entity figured out the key to her heart, her true persona.
Harry James Potter.
He understood her like how Apollo understood Icarus. Both aching for the touch of the blazing sun and then feel the grace slipping away. The two kindred spirits would eventually find their shining sun, a glowing edifice within each other.
Whenever Alena felt like a dark, decaying petal of the rose, he would aureate rays of warmth; reassurance. His lips would always mutter the same leitmotif: it'll be okay.
It was often vise versa; she would sing his favorite harmony, the absent sound of his angel was archly salient to come by. Her presence solely would be enough to burnish the misery that lingered over his head, harkening to the losses of life and granting to be his aid.
This is how they worked. Alena and Harry were the balance of their universe, keeping the equate balanced by consoling each other and getting revenge on the ones who'd wreck their reality.
Their beings found a transcend in each other; the kindled desire to prove themselves worthy. In a transient time, the wizard and witch will observe this and chose if this is really what they want. The life span of leverage, sorrow, and apprize.
