Chapter 16

Vesryn opened his eyes to the sight of a shattered landscape and crimson sky. His breathing sped up as he looked around, countless bodies laid motionless around him, many of which were dismembered while others seemed to be withered until there was little more than decaying skin and bones. Looking down at his body, he saw adorning his form the familiar dark blue armor he once wore. The ground shook beneath his feet as he looked back to see large explosions upon the horizon. Loud shouting and monstrous screams filled the air as he saw the countless bodies of humanoids, beasts and monsters alike being thrown through the air. Giant dragons flew through the air, breathing streams of fire, ice, and lightning toward the gargantuan behemoths that were twice their size and clawing their way out of the dozens of spatial rifts. The long razor-tipped tentacles lashing out to slash and pierce the few dragons that failed to avoid the retaliation.

Vesryn's eyes pierced through the chaos of the battlefield, spotting a group of five individuals fighting against a large monstrous being that was nearly the same size as the behemoths with a single large pink eye, purple hide and countless tentacles that were striking out at the surroundings. Without so much as a though, Vesryn sprinted towards the fight, rushing through the chaos. Screams echoed in his ears as he ran, weaving between slamming tails and lashing tentacles, sliding under the bodies that were sent flying in his direction and leaping over the ravaged landscape that was splintering and fracturing beneath his feet. Pushing through the death and destruction, he pushed closer to the fight. He could see the familiar figures clearly now as he continued his approach.

The large seven-foot-tall goliath man, who looked as though he was sculpted out of stone, that was deflecting away the massive tentacles and delivering violent blows of his own. The blonde haired, pale-skinned human woman that was floating in the air, sending a beam of energy from the tip of her finger, slicing through tentacles as it reduced everything else it passed to ash. A red-haired half-elven woman that pushed ahead with her shield, deflecting a ball of fire that was headed toward her elven companion before reaching out with her hand to bind a nearby cultist in burning vines as she redirected her hand towards a short, four-foot-tall halfling woman nearby. The halfling pushed the rubble off her back, the wounds on her body quickly stitching themselves closed as she picked up her longbow and began to fire off a barrage of arrows at the large eyeball in front of her, flames and lightning erupting from the arrows and chaining from the point of impact toward the smaller, winged creatures that circled the gargantuan monstrosity. He even saw the short and stout dwarven man, his braided hair and full beard having turned gray from the thick layer of dust that had gathered as he dived in and out of the shadows, firing his large crossbow at the monsters, every bolt punching through the creatures to strike another one right behind it.

Vesryn pushed harder, speeding through the battlefield in an attempt to reach the fight. Unfortunately, no matter how fast he ran, or how far he jumped, he never seemed to get any closer. It was as though, for every step he took, the world pushed back, keeping him forever on the edge of the battle but unable to enter the fray. Then, just as his frustration had nearly reached its limit, he looked up to see the sky tear open as the monstrosity before him was replaced by one that blocked out the sky. A single eye that became the only thing one could see in the sky. The stars, the dying sun, and the shattered moons were now hidden behind the unimaginably gargantuan entity. The world shifted as he suddenly found himself running alongside his former friends through a burning cave, demons and devils dead around him. Looking back, he could see the world collapsing behind them, one of the layers of hell crumbling into nothing as they came to a bridge.

One by one, his friends began to fade away as he found himself unable to stop it. Daag, the goliath, hitting Vesryn with his hammer, sending him through a portal as he tried to grab him, the tunnels of hell collapsed on top of him. Bartok, the dwarf, impaled on a tentacle as he detonated the black powder bombs he had on his person. Sylvia, the halfling, cutting the rope that attached her to the rest of them, causing her to sink into the endless abyss of the water plane along with the eldritch abomination that was holding her. Mara, the human who struggled to defend against a large ray of energy as she managed to push him through a portal just as she was reduced to ash. One at a time, he watched his friends fall in the pursuit of what they believed could be their last hope. The vial of golden blood that Arcella, his last remaining friend, his oldest friend, shoved into his hand as she laid dying on the ground in front of him with her legs turning to ash beneath her. She shoved the vial in his right hand as he crawled toward her, his left arm having been torn away from the elbow down. Then, with the last of her strength and a sad smile on her face, she pushed him away through a portal she summoned behind him. He remembered the warmth that spread through his chest, he remembered reaching out with his left arm as it regenerated before his eyes and pain tore through his being, in both body and soul. Gray mist filled his sight as he was pulled into the astral sea by the portal, watching what remained of her turn to ash and holding the essence of his universe's creation in his hand.

'YoU CaNNot EsCaPe Me.' A cold, malevolent voice echoed through his mind as he saw the massive pink eye peering through the portal as it closed before him. Gasping for air, Vesryn jolted awake, his breathing uneven as his eyes adjusted to the shadows of the night, the bonfire nearby illuminating his face with a soft orange glow. His eyes shifted back and forth as he took in his surroundings, Dusk was sleeping at his back, his tail wrapping around the both of them. In his lap was an old book titled 'Dark nights and the Dark Creatures Within,' and a roll of parchment containing a series of scribbles and notes. Vesryn pulled his knees in toward his body as he held his head in his hands, his teeth grinding as his jaw clenched tight.

"Fuck." Vesryn muttered as realized what happened. Ever since he came to this world, he had substituted sleep for the elven trance. Although the trance allowed from him to get enough rest and prevented him from dreaming, it could not replace sleep forever. A night has passed since he caught the werewolf known as Fenrir Greyback, and with his focus dedicated to researching the differences between werewolves in this world and his old one, caused him to drift off to sleep. And with sleep came the dreams, the memories he has been trying to avoid. He knew what he was doing, he understood. Cleansing Camelot, learning magic, helping to establish the new dragon sanctuary, and now researching werewolves to find a weakness to exploit. He didn't need to do any of it. But he did, because it distracted him. Distracted him from everyone he lost, everything he lost. Distracted him from his failure.

'You're doing it again.' The familiar voice echoed in his mind, as a familiar face appeared in his mind. He remembered the dark hair, elven features, piercing blue eyes and a stern but concerned look of his mother as she found him training to the point of injury for the third time in a week after his father died. He would focus on training, research, work, anything that would take his mind away from the problem. Relying on the pain and exhaustion to distract him from his troubles. He could've left Camelot and went on his way, his decision to clear out the undead wasn't for someone else's benefit, it was for his. He didn't need to help with the sanctuary, the dragonologists were more than capable of handling it themselves as long as they didn't antagonize the dragons. Hell, he could've just took them and went somewhere far away from everything. Researching the weaknesses of werewolves? If Fenrir really was one of the strongest ones out there, then he had nothing to be concerned about. Even his decision to learn magic was partially born from his need for a distraction. He had ample opportunity to learn magic long before any of this happened. But he chose not to, for the same reason that he kept searching for a distraction.

'You're too stubborn.' Vesryn jumped to his feet with his wand in hand and stormed toward the tent set up nearby. Pushing through the flap, he saw the chained up form of the werewolf located in the center of the tent, half encased in ice. Fenrir was still in his transformed state as according to the research Vesryn had done, he knew that once the werewolves in this world transformed, they would remain that way for three days. That is unless they were forcefully turned back by something known as the Homorphus charm, according to someone named Lockhart, information that Vesryn would take with a grain of salt judging by how this Lockhart had supposedly made a vampire change its diet to lettuce. Vesryn stood in front of the werewolf, its thrashing sending ripples through the large puddle of water covered the ground beneath the beast.

"Blizzard." He growled as he waved his wand upward along the ground toward the werewolf. Instantly, shards of ice crawled forward, growing in size as it collided with the beast, causing it to roar in pain as the ice began to envelop its torso. Vesryn gritted his teeth as he cast the spell again, and again, until the werewolf was almost completely imprisoned in thick layers of ice, leaving only its snout free from its new frozen prison. Vesryn lowered his wand as he glared at the werewolf, the fear clearly visible in the beast's eyes as he saw moisture beginning to accumulate on the ice, likely from the werewolf's increased body temperature. Lightning crackled from the tip of his wand, dissipating in the air as he turned and stormed out of the tent. Sitting down on a bench in front of the bonfire, he buried his face in his hands as the frustration, anger built up in his chest. The memories of the final moments of his old life repeated in his mind, now free from the distractions he buried them under. He felt as though he was ready to explode, ready to destroy everything around him just for a moment of release. He had to tense everything in his body to keep from lashing out as he heard the footfall approaching him from the nearby trail.

McGonagall and Dumbledore saw the form of Vesryn sitting by the fire, hunched over with his head in his hands. They heard the pain-filled roars coming from the mountaintop that Vesryn had imprisoned the werewolf, even against Cecil Lee's opposition. For the whole night and following through the next day to now, just a few hours from sunrise, the boy had locked the beast away using the chains meant for dragons, while the Werewolf Capture Squad avoided him for fear of the dragons. McGonagall had, several times, tried to convince him to let the squad take the beast even as she watched the boy display a level of ruthlessness that she could never have imagined from an eleven year old. A level of cruelty that when Dumbledore heard about it, could not help but be reminded of a different child he met so long ago. He hid his concerns and his worries as he followed McGonagall up the mountain, hoping to avoid a repeat of history.

"Vesryn." McGonagall called out as they stopped on the other side of the fire. Dumbledore could see the boy's jaw clench for a moment before he remained silent.

"Vesryn."

"What, professor?" Vesryn asked through gritted teeth without removing his face from between his hands, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"You can't keep doing this." The older woman said calmly, the concern clearly displayed in her eyes. The old headmaster noticed the brief moment where the boy flinched as before she continued speaking.

"I cannot imagine how it feels to be in your situation. How concerned you must be that there's someone out there that sent him after you."

"I'm not concerned." Vesryn answered shortly, his face still hidden behind his hands as his body remained motionless.

"Then why are you doing this?" McGonagall asked. Dumbledore noticed the boy's shoulders tense for a moment as he lowered his hands to reveal his eyes that reflected the flames in front of him. Vesryn stared silently into the fire for a period of time before he closed his eyes.

"Because I don't have anything else." Vesryn answered, his voice barely audible through the sounds of the crackling fire. They saw his hands fall from his face, revealing his quivering frown on his lips.

"Everything is gone. Everything. My home, my friends, my family. Even my enemies are gone." Vesryn continued as the quiver began to spread up his face to his nose, to the corners of his eyes as they narrowed, and to his brow as it furrowed. Dumbledore felt the emotions bleeding through the cracks of the boy's mental walls. Walls that had previously blocked everything from his senses. The emotions were familiar to him, though far more intense than what he was comfortable with. He watched on in silence as Vesryn rose to his feet and kicked his leg out, shattering a nearby rock that was the size of a human torso, shattering it into fragments that pierced through the air and embedded themselves into a nearby tree.

"I've lost everything! Because I wasn't strong enough! I couldn't do anything!" Vesryn shouted, his chest feeling as though it was being constricted. He looked down at the wand in his hand, as he remembered how his friends had struggled to close the tears in space. Wondering if it all could have been prevented had he just learned magic sooner when he still had the chance instead of being stubborn. Wondering if one more spellcaster could have made enough of a difference to at least save his friends. His shoulders slumped and his head dropped until he was looking at his feet.

"All I could do was watch. I failed." Vesryn said, turning his head to the side away from the fire.

Dumbledore could feel something shift in front of him as he saw the image of a young, pale, black-haired boy separate from the child standing in front of him until it was next to Vesryn before fading away. He realized now that he was right in a way, history had repeated itself. But it was the history he was originally afraid of. Dumbledore watched quietly as he saw a familiar brown-haired, young man with a broken nose walking away with his head facing the ground.

'He's not tom.' Dumbledore thought to himself, his mind remembering when he left his long time home after his sister's funeral. How he traveled the countryside, angry at his former partner, angry at his brother, angry at the world, but most importantly angry at himself. He remembered the eagerness when he met Nicolas Flamel and how he dedicated himself to learning everything the old alchemist had to offer. How he dedicated himself to study and research, hoping to one day fix the mistakes he made, to bring back his sister. Looking at the platinum-haired boy before him now, he saw just how similar the situation was. Vesryn was doing the exact same thing he did, distracting himself from his grief, focusing on everything other than the pain. The only difference here was the intensity of what they went through and how much quicker the young seemed to realize that he couldn't hide anymore.

"Minerva, let me speak with him." He said as he placed a hand on the woman's shoulder.

"Albus-"

"Please." Dumbledore gave her a look that clearly expressed how important this request was to him. McGonagall looked back at him in silence for a moment before she looked back to Vesryn. She nodded quietly as she turned away to leave the old professor alone on the mountaintop. Dumbledore watched her walk back to the sanctuary below before he turned back to Vesryn and sighed. He walked over to the bench and brushed off some of the dust before sitting down. The air was filled with silence, with one old man sitting alone on a stone bench and a young boy standing alone in the distance, his hands clenched tight by his side as he resisted the urge to lash out again.

"I won't say that I understand what you're going through. That would be a lie. Most of the people who say that they do, likely don't even understand their own feelings, let alone yours. I haven't been through what you have, I haven't lost what you've lost and I can't begin to imagine how much it hurts." Dumbledore said, breaking the silence as Vesryn looked over his shoulder.

"What I can say is that I understand what you're doing. I have lost many things over my long life, and I have done exactly what you're doing right now. I poured my focus into something other than my problems, hoping that it would distract me long enough for a solution to present itself." Dumbledore explained as he picked up some of the nearby sticks to throw into the fire.

"I have, despite many people's beliefs, made many mistakes over my life. Mistakes that have caused me a great deal of pain and suffering. I blamed others for the pain my mistakes caused. But why are you blaming yourself for the mistakes that others made? You say you failed. That all you could do was watch. Moody told me what happened to you. How someone messed with something they shouldn't have. Let's pretend for a moment that you had the ability to do more. Can you honestly say something would change? That you as you were previously would be enough to make a significant enough difference?

You didn't destroy your home. You're not the one that killed your friends and family. And yet you still blame yourself when right now, Vesryn? You're the reason they still live. They live because you survived to remember them. And as long as you don't forget, well then they're never completely gone, are they?" Dumbledore looked into the fire as Vesryn turned around to look at him.

"You can learn a lot from your own mistakes. But you should never blame yourself for the mistakes someone else made." Dumbledore said as he turned to see the look of frustration and annoyance on Vesryn's face.

"Ah, well. I've rambled on enough. I think it's time I got inside. The cold mountain air is not good for my bones." Dumbledore said with a smile as he stood up and dusted himself off before beginning to walk down the mountain. Vesryn watched as the old man disappeared from view as his expression gradually turned to one of reluctance as he sighed and muttered beneath his breath.

"Fuck."