Summary: Seeking solace in the Undercroft after restless nights, she finds Ominis consumed by guilt and profound grief over Sebastian's escalating obsession and Anne's suffering. Their raw conversation exposes Ominis's self-reproach for enabling Sebastian, while her, grappling with her own complex feelings towards Sebastian, clings to the fragile hope of the twins' connection to guide him back from the brink.
Word Count: 950 words
The heavy oak door of the Undercroft creaked open, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. A wave of cool, damp air washed over her, carrying the scent of old stone and something else, something... raw. She stepped inside, her eyes, still adjusting to the dim light, scanning the familiar surroundings. After multiple sleepless nights, the Undercroft, with its hidden corners and sense of ancient secrets, seemed like the only place that might offer a strange comfort, or at least solitude.
She found Ominis near the back, seated on a low stone bench, his head bowed. Even from a distance, she could sense the tension radiating from him, a palpable aura of distress. As she approached, she hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to breach the stillness.
"Ominis?" she said softly, her voice barely a whisper in the vast space.
He started, his head snapping up. His usually composed face was... different. His eyes, though sightless, seemed to hold a deep, unshed grief, and his cheeks were slightly flushed.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern. "Is Sebastian here too? Are you back into the Pensieve?"
"I thought I made it clear I'm not getting into that damned thing again," Ominis sighed, his voice heavy with weariness, not sharp. "And no, he is not here. He left the second I arrived, said he was done for the day, but to be honest, I don't believe him."
She approached Ominis with caution, her gaze searching his face. He was clearly bothered, tense, and defensive.
"What are you doing here?" he asked her back, his voice rougher than usual, a hint of accusation in his tone.
"I... I was looking for somewhere quiet, I just couldn't sleep…" she replied, her gaze searching his. "Are you alright? You look..."
"I'm fine," he interrupted, turning his head away. "Just allergies. The dampness in here."
She frowned, unconvinced. "Ominis, you've never had allergies, especially not in the Undercroft."
He sighed, the sound heavy and defeated. "It's nothing, really."
She persisted, her voice gentle but firm. "It doesn't sound like nothing. Is it... is it about Sebastian?" She knew how close they once were, how Sebastian was, besides Anne, Ominis's only real friend. But since Sebastian came back, she'd noticed their friendship wasn't the same. They seemed more distant, almost broken. Poppy had subtly taken Sebastian's place as Ominis's constant companion, and Sebastian, in turn, seemed to have replaced Ominis with the Pensieve. The thought of their fractured bond, and the new, unsettling distance, weighed heavily on her.
Ominis hesitated, his jaw working silently for a moment. "Yes," he admitted finally, his voice low. "Sebastian is... one of the things. But it's not just him." He took a shuddering breath. "I knew this would happen. I knew he would obsess over those memories, get lost in his obsessions again. I warned him. I warned myself." His voice cracked, raw with self-reproach. "But I was selfish. My own desperate desire to have Anne back... the thought that a cure might be in those fragments... I let him. I gave him the flask. I allowed him to dive back into that madness."
She waited, sensing the new, profound layer of guilt in his words.
The raw anguish in Ominis's voice, his desperate fears for both Anne and Sebastian, hit her with the force of a physical blow. A pang of guilt twisted in her gut, heavy and cold. She was still confused about her feelings towards Sebastian, a confusing mix of anger and fear since the battle at Rookwood Castle. She remembered his rage, his attack, but she had tried to understand his frustration, his desperate need for a solution for his sister. She thought about herself: if she had someone as important as Anne in her life, she would probably do the same, and that's the only reason she had enabled Sebastian in his consuming research. But now, hearing Ominis's pain, the thought of losing her friend to that same darkness, to that consuming obsession, knowing he would be giving up everything just to find a cure for his sister, twisted her insides with a cold dread.
"I miss Anne," he said, the words barely audible, thick with a renewed, aching grief. "So much. And I'm... I'm terrified. What if she's truly gone, and we're just chasing shadows? What if Sebastian... what if I lose him too? To that darkness? To that obsession?" His voice trailed off, the unspoken fear hanging heavy in the air. "You've seen him when he's consumed by something, haven't you? What he did to Solomon... what he almost did to you. I wonder if you'd even be here if it wasn't for Anne's interruption. He's not the same when he gets into that madness for Anne's cure. He barely eats, barely sleeps, he pushes us away. And for what?" He asked, his voice thick with despair. "We don't even know if Anne is still alive. The other day, I sensed her... she was so weak… so fragile… it seems like her flame was extinguishing... I just... I don't know how much more her fragile body can endure."
She stepped closer to Ominis, her heart aching for his pain. "He told me," she said softly, "that twins have a... a connection. That he would know if she wasn't..." She couldn't bring herself to say the word.
Ominis turned back to her, his expression a mixture of disbelief and a desperate hope.
She continued, "I know it sounds... strange. But he was adamant. He said he could feel her, that she was still... there." She paused, then added, "I think that's the only reason I'm not completely losing my mind right now," she confessed, her voice a fragile whisper. "And yes, I'm angry with him too, Ominis. For leaving, for not telling us, for putting us all through this, for hurting himself. But that connection he spoke of... that's our hope. That's what we have to hold onto. That's what will bring him back."
The anger was a shield, she knew, a way to keep the fear and the grief at bay. But seeing Ominis so vulnerable, so raw with emotion, chipped away at that shield, revealing the fragile hope beneath.
