❀ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐘,
˚ ༘♡ ⋆𝑨 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀 𝑶𝑭 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑪𝑯𝑪𝑹𝑨𝑭𝑻 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑷𝑺
━━━ ❝a name, or title, or house
doesn't define who you are,
only you're able to do that.❞
...
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︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
FOR A WHILE IT APPEARED as though Nyx was alone. Sitting in what could only be described as limbo. She hadn't stopped crying since she arrived in this place. A garden of gardenia flowers. There was no sky or wind, and she couldn't smell the flowers either instead it was as if they were just hallucinations. She wished it was all a hallucination.
She'd heard a few things through her abrupt venture. Her mother was indeed dead and had died by Voldemort's hand. Also, Voldemort was her father.
No matter how hard she tried to renounce it there was no changing the fact that his blood ran through her veins. And now that Nyx was thinking about it a bit clearer they had similarities in their appearances. She was very close to being the spitting image of her mother but the shape of her eyes, lips and ears belonged entirely to Tom Riddle and she hated it.
The truth was that Nyx was just a dreadful mistake, her existence was merely a plot by Voldemort to keep her mother in line. Now, years later Nyx had been tricked just as her mother had been. She was responsible for bringing him back to life—the younger, fresh-faced version of Tom Riddle who was likely near his prime. She'd been so easily deceived when she thought she was one step ahead.
She felt nauseous, guilty and most importantly scared.
Nyx continued to cry into her hands, the only thing she managed to do right. But she looked up when she felt the wind touch her face. Nyx sniffled and standing directly in front of her was—"Mum?" her eyes widened.
It was her, Andrea, she looked the same age she was when she had died. Although, this time her expression wasn't hardened nor were her eyes bloodshot. She smiled gently at Nyx while holding out her arms.
"Mummy!" Nyx wrapped her arms around her. "But how? What? Am I dead? Are you real?"
"Dead? No, of course not," her mother responded. Her tone was honest and warm.
Nyx held her tightly, her face firmly pressed against her mother's body. She could feel her, she was actually touching her. How was this possible?
"If you're wondering how this is possible or how I'm here, it's quite simple. Consider me a recording of sorts. I was able to mimic what Tom had been doing but instead of splitting anything is more like preserving," Andrea explained. "A failsafe if you will, that I implanted into my—well, I suppose it's yours now—the locket that once belonged to your grandmother and so on and so forth. I placed a rather powerful charm on it so that if one day you were in need of me, I would appear before you and bring you back before it is too late."
"Is he really my father? Voldemort?"
Nyx could hear the frown in her mother's voice as she spoke. "Yes, my dear. I'm so, so sorry. No child should have a father so cruel. Still, somehow, oh, look at you... you managed to come out so perfectly."
