UMBRA • tom riddle

prologue

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NO NIGHTMARE was never once a dream.

A migraine reared its wild head, a violent storm caged by its own clouds. The floor was a sheet of ice against her cheek--almost comforting compared to the erratic beat of her heart. It made her numb to her own body. Oh, how she hated this body. 

Aloisia. 

A lover's croon that echoed to infinity. Aloisia, Aloisia, Aloisia. Some twisted chorus of a man's making. A freezing laugh punctuated the silence that would've followed, crystallizing the air in its wake. 

She was so cold. Why was she so cold?

Her eyelids fluttered just a crack open, a solemn tide washing over her and settling in her stomach. She suspected the reason, but knew not how to make herself accept it. She sat herself upright with more force than she needed--the whiplash sent stars to her vision. The girl shook dark curls away from her face, fixed her gaze upon the figure across from her. Beautiful mortal, he was. Her mouth quirked upwards in a smile in spite of it all. In spite of it all. 

You called. Every breath rattled her ribcage, and the effort to speak made it no easier. She watched his gaze shimmer with pleasure at her pain. Her chin raised, but he knew. She enjoyed it like no other.

Yes. Poisoned honey dripped from that single word uttered by him, coated her tongue. The most pleasant shiver ran through her body. She could see it--there was no doubt--she could read him too well. He had been waiting for the time to come, dreamed of different variations of the events unfolding. But Tom Riddle did not dream, she mused, blood rushing to her head. She could not have expected his next words to change everything. 

Come with me, Aloisia. Come.