A.N- Sorry, I haven't posted in a few days. I lost someone in my family to Death's embrace.
Anyway, here's an extra-long chapter to make up for it.
-
Ben didn't use the old hideout under the cottage anymore. Not since he got Nirn Island. But with Rita Skeeter under magical house arrest there, he'd had to dust off the old secret hideout.
It was a small chamber he'd made himself last year.
Blue flames flickered in Skyrim-style wall sconces, bathing the whole place in an eerie light.
In the middle of the room was a battered old armchair that had outlived three cushioning charms—and was now on its fourth.
There was no longer a secret entrance hidden behind a drunk portrait, as Ben had permanently sealed it. He didn't want Thea stumbling upon the place while cleaning one day.
But then, how would he enter himself, you ask?
Like any self-respecting Mage, of course.
Ben stepped through the glowing portal and plopped down on his chair.
Skyrim Portals were still his favourite mode of travel, even after learning Apparition through Tom Riddle's memories.
Something about twisting through a point in space made him uneasy; just the thought made his stomach queasy.
He cast a Magelight and pulled the Resurrection Stone from his pocket, holding it close to the light.
It felt cold and... Heavy. Not heavy in weight, but strangely... in a non-physical way.
Perhaps it was the weight of temptation carved into something so small yet dangerous enough to ruin so many lives.
Just from the eager tug in his chest, he knew the mist wanted it. Badly.
With just a thought, the black mist burst out from his chest like a living storm, full of flashing lights with crackling energy, rushing straight for the Stone.
Just like it had with the Invisibility Cloak.
But this time, it was much quicker.
The Stone was swallowed in seconds, disintegrated by small flashes of lightning in the dark mist, leaving behind a low hum in its place.
Small flashes of lightning in the mist now much brighter as they swirled, rushed back into him, punching him in the chest like a rogue Bludger.
And boy did it hurt like one too.
The pain started in his chest and travelled through his body, rushing straight to his head.
"Haaah—fucking hell," Ben choked, knees buckling as he dropped to the stone floor.
His hands gripped his head as it hurt, as if it was going to split open.
And then, the world... stopped making sense.
It wasn't anything like any headache he'd had before.
This felt like someone had plugged a thousand radios directly into his brain and tuned them all to the afterlife.
He heard voices...and there were so many.
But it wasn't like hearing people in the next room. No, the voices came from inside him.
And at the same time, from everywhere around him, just not through his ears.
A billion voices layered on top of each other.
Yet, somehow, he could make out some of them.
They sounded familiar. And it was terrifying how intimate they were.
"Ben?" a soft voice whispered. "Where've you been, boy?"
He blinked as his heart started beating painfully.
"Gramps?" Ben called out, but the voice sounded like it did when he was a kid.
It was his grandpa's voice. His real one. From before this life.
It sounded tired, but felt just as warm.
Ben had forgotten the exact timbre of that voice...until now.
Then another voice floated in, barking excitedly at him.
Yes, Barking.
Ben's breath got caught in his throat. "Juno?"
It was his dog. His stupid, brave, sausage-legged mutt.
She barked just as excitedly as she did when he came home from school.
Just hearing her again made his throat close up.
And then he heard his voice.
"Hey, man."
Ben froze up.
It was him. His buddy, "Ryan?"
He was his best bud till high school. They practically grew up together.
Ryan was the life of every party, and Ben was the kid who killed every party.
Always getting into fights and causing accidents. Setting things on fire, making chandeliers fall and whatnot.
And Ryan bailed his ass every single time.
Until...he disappeared, leaving behind a long-winded status update.
"I didn't think I'd see you again," Ryan said in a casual tone.
Like the bastard hadn't gone and jumped from a bridge.
Ben wanted to scream at that bastard, but his voice suddenly disappeared.
'This isn't real,' He finally thought to himself.
He wasn't sure what was going on. If he was hallucinating, dreaming or something else, but it couldn't be real.
Ben wanted to move his body and get away from the voices, but he couldn't quite find his body.
Was he standing? Sitting? Floating?
No. He was falling. He could feel it.
But then came another voice.
"You don't belong here."
Ben's eyes suddenly snapped open, but still, all he saw was a vague figure in the fog.
It was himself. Or rather, the real Ben.
The boy who had lived in this body before he... took over.
The voice wasn't angry. In fact, it sounded eerily calm.
"This isn't yours. You know that, right?" the voice continued, accusing him calmly. "You took my name. My face. My parents. You took everything."
Ben tried to speak. Tried to argue that he didn't mean to, and that it wasn't his fault.
But his lips wouldn't move.
His body felt distant and so...heavy.
"I don't blame you," the boy whispered now. "But you're tired, aren't you? Wouldn't it be nice to take a nap?"
"Come on," said another silhouette that looked like his grandpa. "Just a little nap, Benny boy."
Juno's silhouette came next to his grandpa, lying on her back, as if asking for tummy rubs.
Numerous silhouettes surrounded him in the mist, whispering to him.
The whisperings of death. They were soft, seductive, and... so comforting.
Like a kind voice offering to take the weight off his shoulders after a very long journey.
Ben could feel it.
If he wanted to go, he could. All it would take was one step.
Just stop resisting.
Maybe he would have even taken that step—If it weren't for the bottomless anger that filled him just at the thought of giving in to Death's favourite little trick.
This...siren's song...the ghosts that sang of love...regrets...and of things left unfinished, only annoyed him further.
And finally… from somewhere deep inside him, a shout rang out.
ᚾᛁᛞ ᛞᛟᚠᚨᚺ ᛗᚢᛚ
Even though Ben couldn't quite make out what it said, he could feel the emotion behind it clearly.
It was filled with anger at being disrespected.
The roar tore through the fog, blowing away the silhouettes and silencing the voices.
Suddenly, everything vanished like a bad dream.
Ben gasped and jolted awake, back in the flickering blue light of the underground room.
He groaned and sat up. His shirt clung to his chest, soaked through as if he'd sweated a bucket.
And he probably had.
Ben glanced down and froze.
A new symbol was glowing on his skin.
On his chest, where the triangle had once sat alone, a circle now shimmered at its centre. It looked like molten silver before slowly dimming into black ink.
"…The hell," he muttered, wincing at the searing pain in his chest.
His head hurt too, throbbing as if someone had just dropped a whole library on it.
He rubbed both his head and chest, casting Healing Hands as he did.
"Bloody mist…" he muttered. "I give you the Resurrection Stone, and you pay me back with a bloody tramp stamp… on my chest, no less."
He scowled.
"If I could get it back, I'd chuck it into the sun."
As if on cue, mist gathered in front of him and twisted into the familiar shape of his Shop panel.
[Shop Catalogue]
Ben's jaw dropped for what felt like the umpteenth time that day.
Because there it was. The Resurrection Stone.
Listed right at the top. Alongside the Invisibility Cloak.
And everything else he'd ever sold to the shop, including a tiny Griffin figurine he'd given up ages ago, back when he first got the system.
Except the price tags were… different.
[Resurrection Stone] – Price: 3 Divinity Fragments
[Invisibility Cloak] – Price: 3 Divinity Fragments
...
[Griffin Figurine] – Price: 15 Septims
...
"What in Merlin's little finger is a divinity fragment?" he cursed. "What is this, a Xianxia novel? And what's with the bloody price hike?"
He was understandably a bit annoyed with everything he'd gone through.
That Griffin figurine, though. He always liked that one.
Pushing fifteen Septims into the mist, he bought it back—for three times what he'd sold it for.
The mist turned into a spiral, melting the gold and quickly reforming it into a tiny Griffin.
Once it was done, it spat the little guy into his hands and returned into his chest.
"Welcome back, little guy," Ben greeted, while also cursing the mist's manners, pulling it back out to check his status panel.
Sure enough, there was a new addition to the Deathly Hallows section.
[Deathly Hallows[2/3]: Invisibility Cloak△, Resurrection Stone〇]
Just as he focused on the Resurrection Stone〇, a new line appeared under Abilities.
[Death's Call] – One target at a time. Call forth echoes of the dead. Luring the target into Death's sweet embrace.
Ben read it three times.
"Death's Call," he muttered. "Yeah… that's a bloody accurate name."
Now that he thought about it, that was probably the Stone's true ability.
A trap disguised as closure.
It was exactly what had happened to Harry in the Forbidden Forest.
Ben had always found that scene a bit strange.
Dumbledore must've understood what the stone really did after he used it himself.
That it didn't bring back the dead—it just called you to them.
That's why he passed it to Harry, wrapped up in that snitch with the cryptic little message. "I open at the close."
When Harry walked through the forest, Lily, James, Sirius, Remus and everyone else he saw...they all seemed so supportive of him walking to his death.
A bit too supportive.
Yes, Harry, go on. Die. It's time.
No way any of them would want Harry to die so soon.
Unless… the Stone didn't show the dead.
Unless it showed what you needed to believe in order to die willingly.
'Death's Call. It makes you want the end,' he thought, staring at the screen.
The griffin figurine was perched quietly on his lap, its tail curling and uncurling like a restless kitten.
Ben narrowed his eyes at it.
"Are you real," he asked slowly, "or should I be worried?"
The griffin let out a proud little screech, fluffed its downy wings, and pecked at the hem of his robe as if deeply offended.
"Alright, alright, you're the real deal," Ben said, raising his hands in surrender.
Only then did it do a slow, dramatic spin before plopping back down and puffing out its tiny chest, as if it had just won a duel.
-To be Continued...
What do you lot think about Death's Call and these Divinity Fragments? Did I nail it, or am I totally cooked?
Don't you dare call me an unc you brats.
Also, this shop is ridiculous—charging three times the price to buy back stuff we just sold. Capitalism, final boss or what.