Elspeth Anne Ladds

Rule 1 for exploring potentially dangerous temple ruins: Don't go alone.

"El," someone whispers, breaking through my half-sleep. The rain's kept me up for hours, tracing patterns on the tent roof above me and distracting my thoughts enough that I only start trying to get to sleep when it finally let up, only half an hour ago. I'm still trying to find a comfortable position when the voice calls out again, more urgently, "El!"

"Yeah?" I ask blearily, giving up on sleeping. It's got to be at least early morning - we'd stayed up late the previous night in our scrimmage Quidditch game, switching positions every so often, although I stayed on Beater as much as possible after managing to drop a Quaffle straight onto my fellow Chaser's head. We'd played until the Snitch had disappeared, and I'd headed in while they were still arguing about what to do about it. It was obviously too dark to find anything, much less a tiny golden ball.

Now, the dawn light shines over the horizon, the first fingers of the sun lighting the face of Marielle, my only remaining Hogwarts companion. Her face has the same dark circles under it that I was sure mine does, and she looks exhausted.

"They're calling another meeting."

"Another?" I groan as I sit up, rubbing my eyes open. "We've barely gotten a break."

She smiles, though it's thin. "It's what we signed up for, right?"

I grunt and grab my robe from the ground as I follow her out the door, not having bothered to change out of my clothes last night before toppling into bed. Usually I get more rest than this, not hours on a broom, then searching the jungle and playing hours of Quidditch (more broom time). I can barely keep my eyes from drooping.

We join the others, taking a spot next to Chris, who smiles at me tightly as more stragglers appear, until there's twelve of us standing on damp ground surrounding the leaders, who look just as tired as we do. Perhaps this trip is taking a toll on them as well.

"As I'm sure some of you already know, last night, a few students decided to try and find the missing Snitch," Gloria starts, a strain in her voice that only makes me feel more tired. "They have since gone missing, but we have been able to find trails that lead to a series of ruins a few kilometers away. Since you did sign up for an expedition, you'll be divided into groups and go with one of the leaders to search."

"Since when are they missing?" I hiss to Chris, who only shrugs. He doesn't seem to have understood more than half of it.

Someone raises a hand - one of the Durmstrang girls. "Can we pick teams?" she asks, her English accented with Nordic inflection. Her gaze flicks to one of the blonde siblings, who exchanges a small smile with her.

"Whatever will help you succeed more. Be responsible - I don't want anyone else disappearing."

I glance up at Chris, who immediately slings an arm over my shoulder and pulls me towards Faraji, who seems the nicest. Halfway there, a hand grabs my wrist - Marielle, who meets my eyes.

"Can I join you two? If that's OK," she adds, eyes warm with kindness but almost panicked. I don't want to be alone in a group where no one else speaks English, either, and I nod.

Maybe it can make up for all the times she's been accidentally framed for one of my pranks - but, I mean, how was I to know that she would be in the Gryffindor common room when I dropped that bottle of Exploding Potion? It was damn near 4 AM.

Marielle follows Chris and I towards Faraji, who watches the proceedings with a grin on his face, though the permanence of it makes me think it doesn't mean much. "Senor," Chris starts, "may we join you?"

He glances at us, braids swinging, and smiles wider. "Certainly. Keep your wits about you, don't wander off, and I'm sure we'll find the others."

It's hard not to smile back at his wide grin, but I still feel a tinge of fear. If students had disappeared during a Quidditch game under his watch, what is going to happen to us?

Chris keeps his arm around my shoulder as we walk towards where the brooms are stored, the tent still dripping with rain. Marielle walks next to us, uncharacteristically quiet. I suppose she's as scared as I am.

"Ready?" I ask, grabbing the broom I'd used for Quidditch. It worked well enough. Marielle chooses the same broom as well, shrugging as she does.

"I don't know. I'd rather stay here, but I suppose if the leaders are going to be gone-" She breaks off and shrugs again. "I guess I am."

"You'll be fine," I promise. "After all, one of my rules is to not go alone, and you're got us."

Her face bears the hint of a smile as she glances at me and asks, "So, you have rules for this now too? Is this not your first time exploring ruins?"

"It is, of course. I just make them up. How do you know about my rules, anyways?"

She laughs out loud, teeth shining as she leads the way out of the tent to join Chris and Faraji. "Everyone knows about your rules, Ladds. You talk about them constantly."

I force a smile. "At least they're entertaining."

Faraji makes us wait for the other groups to be ready, which gives me a few minutes to prop myself up with my broomstick and rest. I can't do much, though, without Marielle's laugh running through my head.

Was it childish, my rules? They were order, to me, laws to follow instead of the ones I so loved to break, but did other people think they were odd?

I keep quiet as the others arrive and swing a leg over my Barron silently, even as another rule pops into my head.

Rule 2 for exploring potentially dangerous ruins: Have a quick escape method.

The brooms take care of that; we whizz towards the ruins, following Mr. Goethe. It takes barely five minutes to get there, the brooms shortening the journey, even though we have to dodge trees an stay below the canopy to avoid any Muggles who might spot us.

When we dismount, all 16 of us look windswept, and we separate again into our groups, Chris's height easy to spot in the crowd. Marielle follows me towards him and Mr. Weseka, and our group smiles tightly at each other.

"Faraji, take the east area," Ms. Itza calls, point over our heads. Mr. Weseka nods and motions for us to follow him, leading us towards a dark entryway, nearly crumbled, but somehow still standing.

The rest of them walk through it, but I make a point to go around the crumbling structure. If I die on this trip, it won't be because I'm crushed by a collapsing doorway.

"Here, students." Mr. Weseka leads us to a dark hole in the ground, the stairs leading into it seemingly endless. He pauses before we enter, making eye contact with each of us, the seriousness of his eyes not matching his friendly demeanor. "Remember, you must all follow my orders. I don't want to lose anyone else under my watch."

"Yes, sir," the other two say instantly, and I follow with a mumbled "Yessir." He glances at me for longer than the others, but turns and disappears into the darkness. My hand finds Chris's and I hold tight as we descend, Marielle following close behind.

I hear a muttered "Lumos." In front of me, a light blooms from the tip of Mr. Weseka's wand, and Marielle copies him from behind, the double glow enough to illuminate the stairs enough so we can navigate safely. I try to avoid looking at the ground anyway, after seeing a long pink tail disappear into a small hole. Chris's grip tightens on my hand as I let out a muffled squeak and the warmth is enough to keep me from running all the way back to camp.

"This way," Faraji says as we reach a landing, pointing us towards a small doorway instead of continuing further down the stairs. "It's unlikely they'll be down here, but perhaps we can find more clues to their disappearance."

The pair's light shines on the walls, revealing dark carvings and mosaics that line the walls. Chris pauses, as if to examine them, but with Mr. Weseka's light still moving, I pull him along.

"Mr. Weseka?" Marielle calls as we keep going, further underground, further into the mass of tunnels. "Are you sure there's hints here?"

"Maybe not, but we have all day. This could lead to something helpful," he calls back, voice echoing off walls. It seems like ages before we reach another fork, and this time, one of the options is lighter than the others, a soft light like the sun visible down a hallway.

"That one?" Chris asks, motioning towards the lighter option. I glance at Mr. Weseka as he nods and leads the way again.

Chris's hand drops from mine to trace the wall, this one even more laden with carvings. They seem to depict all sorts of scenes, from battles to coronations, births to sacrifices, deaths to weddings. Each one is impossibly detailed, and I know it's impossible for it to be not made with magic.

"These are amazing," I breathe, staring at one painted with tiny brushstrokes, pearly white making up tiny teeth, miniscule dots of brown for eyes, and clothing of unimaginably small proportions painted with breathtaking patterns.

"It's a wizard city," Faraji calls over his shoulder. "Aztec wizards were amazing wand-users, and they could use different materials than yours now, since they had the jungle at their whim."

"It's gorgeous. I never even knew it was here."

"Most wizards don't - the culture disappeared years ago. You'll be more impressed when we get to the throne room."

"The what?"

"It's a bit further on. Look out - it gets steep."

The hallway begins to lift, a slight incline turning into at least a fifty degree angle. I can barely keep myself moving, and only Chris's occasional encouraging glances make me want to keep going (it's easy for him, with those goddamn legs).

Along the way, it gets brighter, and soon it seems like the sun has fully risen, which makes me wonder how long we've been underground. It can't have been that long, not long enough for the sun to rise overhead, can it?

After ten minutes of extraordinarily steep climbing, I hear a huffing and a shout. "Here!" Faraji leans over and helps pull Chris up, and Chris is nearly able to lift me completely. I help with Marielle, then stare around the room in awe.

It's gorgeous, colors covering every single wall. It seems like there's infinite murals covering the walls, even though there's hundreds of tiny windows that all shine light onto one spot, where dust dances in the air.

"That would have been the throne," Faraji explains. "I wonder where it is? Look around, kids - you might never see this again. It's crumbling, see? The magic has held it up for now, but it won't last another hundred years."

I steer away from the area where the walls are indeed crumbling, and instead examine the tiny paintings. These ones seem to have more of a story, showing the birth and childhood of some girl. She grows into a woman, and marries someone who seems to be a prince, but her expression is bored in the paintings where she's doing things like sewing and ruling. In one frame, she stares out at the boys playing swordfighting in the yard, and they've somehow painted an expression of longing onto her miniscule face.

I follow the paintings around the room, watching a battle grow, watching the girl stare, watching her sneak out of the palace and cut her hair and join the army. She fights, then, in a scene which goes around the corner of a wall and into a hallway. I follow it still, and see her fight, see her help them win, and then she sneaks back in without anyone noticing she's gone.

I stare at the last frame, where she's back to sewing, but this time with short hair and a secret smile on her face, and feel cheated. She didn't get recognized for her help, or get to escape her life. She's still sewing.

I'm so engrossed in the story I don't notice the skeleton in the corner of the room until I tear my eyes away from the painting and scream.

Thudding footsteps rush down the hallway. "El!" Chris shouts, reaching me, and burying me in his arms. "What were you doing here?" Faraji deamnds, and I can only shake my head.

Rule 3: Follow the rules.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marielle Appleton

The ruins stretched as far as the eye could see in either direction—which actually wasn't very far considering the thick jungle that surrounded it. Mari could not tell whether it was a city or a palace. The structures were so old that any chance of deciphering what it was by just looking at in had been lost.

Mari, Kamaria and El followed Cerise to the place in the large, stone, crumbled wall that appeared to be an opening. The pale rock was cool to the touch, despite the actual temperature being overwhelmingly hot. Shivering as she touched it, Mari glanced into the dark cave for signs of life. She had an extremely bad feeling about what was inside but she did not wish to complain or sound as though she were afraid. The poor missing students needed to be found, and Mari was going to assist in that in any way possible.

Of the thousands of paths that twisted through the labyrinth, the four had naturally chosen the thinnest, darkest, and longest path into nothing.

Only dim lights at the end of wands lit the way. Occasionally Mari would think she saw something move but would be disappointed when it turned out to only be a shadow.

"I think I see something up ahead!" El ran ahead, with Mari following shortly behind. The others straggled behind a little bit.

"Look at the runes." El's wand illuminated the wall. Shadows danced against the tan stone, making the shapes and scratches appear larger than they actually were.

"I wonder what they say." Marielle stood beside her, waving her dimly lighted wand across the markings.

"How should I know?"

Mari shrugged as she studied the scene before her.

What looked like a snake was twisted over the stick figures of some other humanoid creature, as though depicting a fight. Her ancient rumes class she had taken in her third year at hogwarts only helped her so much before she couldn't remember.

"There was a struggle, between some gaint creature and the people who used to posses the land." Mari traced her figure along the curves and lines of the pictures. The cold stone again sent shivers through her spine. Her breath caught in her throat and when she could breathe again only, short, ragged breaths exited her mouth.

"I can only understand a few words here and there. Something about the heavens, things are vanishing. And then--"

And then Marielle's vision blurred.

Chaos.

She fell to the ground, no longer seeing the brown backdrop. Instead, she was in the middle of the jungle. The ruins she had been in were no longer ruins. Instead, towering walls stretched up to a burning orange sky. People ran around, screaming but never looking behind them.

Death.

Flashes of green light blasted their way through the crowd, knocking people down right and left.

It was unbearably hot and the sky was filled with ashes. The jungle was on fire--the world was burning.

Fear.

Fear was the only thing Mari felt, besides the heat that seemed to increase with every passing moment. She could no longer stand immobile--she had to leave. But whatever was here, whatever was causing the destruction held such power over her. She could not do anything to help the dying people. No matter how hard she tried, she could not curse the wizards who were causing such destruction. Debri rained down, remnants of the once great civilization.

Absolute destruction.

A woman running in front of her fell, in her arms a crying child. Her face was swollen beyond any recognition. Her nearly vacant eyes held the last emotion she probably ever knew, fear.

A shadowy figure appeared before her. Marielle screamed as the hood fell but before she could see who was there, a purplish light enveloped the scene.

"Mari! Move your hand!" The voice was disoriented and sounded as though it were coming from under water.

Someone in the horror knew her name, she clenched her eyes shut even tighter. She did not want to see the woman with the young child. Yet the memory was etched into her mind, the blank eyes and swollen face were etched into the back of her eyelids.

Something pulled her arm away from whatever it was touching.

"Mari, open your eyes. Are you alright?" This time, the voice was familiar.

Marielle peeked through her eyelids at the concerned faces of Cerise, El, and Kamaria. She was back in the room with the pictures on the walls again.

Mari opened her eyes all the way, and then winced as a pain began in the hand she had on the wall and shot through her arm. She glanced down to see her skin blistered and hot.

"Dear girl, what were you doing?" Cerise questioned as she waved her wand over Marielle's hand, bandaging it and relieving some of the pain.

"I was reading the wall." Mari rubbed her head, feeling a headache coming on as well as mildly confused.

Cerise finished her task and then turned to look at the characters. Words formed on the edge of her lips as she mouthed them, yet no sound escaped. Her eyes widened. "Did you see something whilst you were having a scare?"

"Yes."

"Oh dear...And the destruction of a city, this very one?"

"Yes."

"We need to leave, now." Cerise turned around, waving her arms about in a gesture to get moving.

"Wait, why? Don't we need to find the other students?" El stood fast in her place, glaring at Cerise.

"We won't be much use to the missing students if we are dead. Now we have to leave." Cerise began walking away again.

"Not until you explain to us why we have to leave my friends to their deaths." Kamaria folded her arms across her chest.

"Long ago, there was a thriving city here." Three heads turned to stare at Mari as she began to speak. Her newfound knowledge startled her yet she felt as though the vision she had saw was the source. "The peaceful transition from ruler to ruler had been happening for ages. Nothing was wrong in all the land.

"But one day, the heavens opened up, and people fell from the sky. They attacked, killing everyone in their path. A dark wizard had heard a legend about a spirit that protected the place and wanted to conquer it. He wished to bend its will to do his evil bidding. When the city was destroyed, and everyone in it dead or fleeing, the "spirit" stepped in. He destroyed the dark wizard and his followers.

"From that day on, any wizard who stepped foot near the ruins was immediately destroyed. The spirit does not want us here, and if we stay any longer, we face all it has to offer."

If there were crickets in the ruins, they could have been heard chirping over the silence.

The quiet did not last long, however, as only seconds later the walls began shaking.

"See, we really need to go!" Cerise turned and ran down the way they had come from. The three students began following behind.

"Is what Mari said true? And how did she know that?" El asked breathlessly.

"Indeed, at least according to the runes. It must be the magic you feel drifting through the walls. You have to admire the spirit's courtesy in allowing us to know why we are dying before actually killing us."

A long growl echoed through the hallway, creating goose bumps on Mari's arm. The sound of loud footsteps quickly followed.

"Hurry! I can see something coming!" Kamaria yelled from the back of the line.

With one wand tightly clenched in her hand, Mari fished for her other wand in the pocket of her cloak, feeling the smooth wood under her fingertips. An internal argument began in her mind.

You might need it.

No.

They are going to die. Listen, the creature approaches quickly.

No.

If that was the only way to save your friends, would you do it? Could you do it?

I don't know.

A scream reached her ears. Mari turned around to see the largest panther she had ever had the displeasure of viewing. It was at least ten feet tall and filled the hallway with the rest of its body. Wisps of purple smoke coming off the cat told Mari it was not real.

In a breath, the panther dissolved, rushing towards the group. As soon as it reached Kamaria, she attempted to fight it with a spell, before collapsing.

Cerise let out a scream and ran forward before being enveloped by the mist.

"We have to do something!" El shot a protection spell out, but it was not strong enough.

Her friends were dying and Mari was just watching. Taking a deep breath as the purple smoke reached her, Mari pulled her real wand from her pocket.

"Protego!" An invisible wall pushed the spirit back, shielding Mari's comrades. The voice in her head spoke again.

If that was the only way to save your friends, would you do it? Could you do it?

Yes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aimée Bellamont

She ran, heart pounding mercilessly in her chest, through the jungle path she'd walked before that now appeared to have grown thicker and wilder than she previously remembered. Vines dangled from the treetops above, where crisscrossing branches from trees hundreds of years old blocked out any source of sunlight, plunging the eighteen-year-old into dense darkness. Thorns from bushes snagged at her already dirtied uniform, as if they were claws from an unseen monster trying to drag her down, to stop her from escaping their clutches. Her hair was wild and tangled and bloodied on one side – a result of something, some creature or force or spirit that had suddenly leapt out of the shadows and grabbed her sister, slamming Adrienne Bellamont hard onto the ground. It was then when Cerise Chevalier had pulled out her wand and told the other Bellamont sister and the shocked Drumstrang girl to run and call for help, but then the witch had been taken as well. She had been dragged away from a horrifying shriek into the crumbling ruins of some ancient civilization, and it was then, when the wind picked up and began to howl around her, and something hissed deep inside of her ear, that Aimée Bellamont had begun to scream too.

And here she was, running. Running aimlessly through the woods, with no goal inside of her head other than to break free of whatever was following her, whatever demon was out for her blood. This was fear that she had no yet experienced, and, just as she had hated being invisible at the Quidditch match, she now hated the feeling of vulnerability, of guilt of leaving her teammates – including her sister – and absolute, utter terror. She was not used to playing the victim, for she had been taught, from a young age, to always be the one in control. Although she may have found herself to care less and less about what mattered most to her in the past, and perhaps "that's a good thing", changes did not happen overnight. It did not mean that she was supposed to embrace every modification in her once routine lifestyle. It did not mean she was suddenly a rebel, a wild child, a dishonorable girl. It did not mean that –

Her legs gave way from under her, and the next thing she knew was that she was sprawled, face-down, on the miry earth of Yucatán's rainforests. She attempted to get up, despite the fact that the entire front of her white-and-blue blazer was now smothered in mud, but black dress shoes had no place in the lush, untamable wilderness. With a groan that was part panic and part disgust, Aimée slipped back into the slush, reaching out to a tree branch with one slender arm to crawl her way out of the situation. Yet, even as her fingers curled around the rough, serrated edges of said branch, ignoring the thorns that dug into her tender skin, there was something inside of her that told her there was no hope. What was the use to hide and run when you knew your enemy was right behind you, waiting only for the right moment for that finishing blow.

"Aimée." The hissing in her ear had grown into a voice, and as she lay there in the freezing mud, shaking with both cold and fear to her very core, she knew it was useless to resist. Whatever it was, whatever had taken Adrienne and Cerise, had come for her. Valdís had disappeared. Help was a million miles away. She was going to die here, alone, in the mud, far away from home and comfort and love. It was odd how one suddenly realizes what they missed at their dying breath. She had always thought it was just some cheesy script for a movie or line in a book, but now, as her vision began to fade and the shadows darkened and moved menacingly towards her, she found that fact to be true. "Aimée, child, do not be afraid."

"Who are you?" Even her words were slurred, almost as if she were a drunkard. Still, she managed to swallow and force her tongue to form the words, and her lips to speak them. "What are you? What..." here, she let her voice falter and die off as the shadows surrounding her seemed to morph into a vague, shifting shape with tendrils. Many tendrils. One of them, ebony black and woven out of pure darkness, came to caress her cheek, and immediately, a wave of nausea crashed into her with the force of a freight train, and it took all of her willpower to resist the urge to be sick on the wet forest floor. "What did you do to Adrienne?"

"Aimée, Aimée, I thought you did not care?" The shadows moved closer inwards as the voice spoke once more, elegantly and gracefully like ballerinas on air, the tendrils of black mist tracing her arm, her leg, her neck and strands of bloodied golden hair. The voice, she noticed through the haze that gradually seeped into her consciousness, a toxin whose porpose was none other than to give her a slow and painful death, was a soothing blend of both male and female, though it had a stronger feminine tone that shone through. A sharp intake of breath was taken as a tendril trailed down to her bleeding lips, then continued making its unhurried descent downwards, past her breasts before coming to a stop right above where she knew her heart to be. The shadows left behind a trial of icy coldness that chilled her down to the marrow of her bones, as if death was hovering right beside her, laughing at her torture. Her teeth began to chatter as the voice whispered to her again, words echoing in her ears, "I thought you hated your sister. I thought you wished her to never have existed."

"Not true," she curled herself into a fatal position more additional warmth, but she could already tell that the tips of her hair had frozen, and her limbs numb and deadened. With frosted lips and blue eyes beginning to fade to grey, she managed to hiss through her pain, "Adrienne and I...we may have our differences. But...we are sisters. I still...I still love her."

"Then, my dearest Aimée," said the voice, as the shadows began to bind together, growing wider and broader and thicker to shroud her head. It was to be death by suffocation for her. "You should think before you speak. For did you not admit that there was something wrong with you? Did you not say that you do not care anymore for the things you used to?"

"Y-yes." She looked up at the wall of blackness closing in, and repeated her previous question, "Who are you?"

"We are you, Aimée Bellamont. We are what you have created. We are what you say we are, and you have said you do not care for the things you used to. We are simply the consequence. You do not care about your sister, what you used to care about – she is gone. You do not care about the expedition nor its leaders, what you used to care about – Cerise Chevalier is gone. And finally, you do not care about your only friend, the person you cared about the most – and she is gone."

"She is not gone." With all the remaining strength she had, Aimée Bellamont managed to heave herself into a sitting position as the shadows began to wrap themselves around her head. She didn't care. There was a humming in the restless summer air, and there was anger sparking inside of her heart. "Valdís Kvaran is not gone, do you hear me?!" Her vision was fading, and her breathing grew erratic. Still, she somehow curled her right hand into a fist and struck the tree branch beside her, not one, not twice, but three times. "Do you hear me?!"

"She may not be gone yet," murmured the voice in her ears, as the world began to fade around her. "But trust us, Aimée Bellamont..."

There was a pause.

"She will be soon."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrienne Bellamont

"Aimée!"

She was drowning. Or perhaps, she was flying. She did not really know. The world was a blend of water and sky, two different shades of blue – one dark, one light. Her mind was nothing but a haze, a faulty lightbulb that kept blinking on and off, a puzzle half-finished with multiple pieces missing. Her body dangled between earth and sky, hovering almost lifelessly in the air, as she struggled to make sense of what was occurring. She did not know how she got here. She did not know what she was supposed to be doing here, or if she should even be here at all. What was her original goal? What was her name? Who was the girl called Aimée she kept hearing someone call inside of her head?

"Aimée, we need to run!"

On the horizon, she could make out the crimson colors of the rising sun that bled like dripping paint through the heavens, staining the white clouds red or orange or gold while simultaneously combining warm colors with cold. The result was nothing short of a masterpiece, and for a short eternity, all thoughts of previous panic and confusion and fear had been swept from her mind. Yet, something deep inside of her, a gut feeling, told her that to let her guard down – especially now – was not wise. Although still puzzled about many a thing, she still maintained some type of logic, and for the first time since opening her eyes and finding herself awake in this place, attempted to break free. Break free of what exactly, the girl did not know – she only knew that she did not belong here, and that she needed to find the girl called Aimée.

"Aimée, come with me!"

The world was falling apart around them; lightning flashed overhead. The night was dark and the last of their flashlights had suddenly lost power upon their arrival at the Mayan ruins. She wanted so desperately to run, but her conscience held her back, and in one last attempt to get Aimée to leave unharmed, she stumbled forwards towards the kneeling figure of the blonde girl kneeling beside Valdís Kvaran's still body. The Icelandic girl's face was deathly pale, her eyes closed and body curled into the fatal position. However, that was not the fact that scared her the most, no. What scared her – no, terrified her – was what caused Valdís such pain, what inflicted the strong, tough eighteen-year-old such injuries.

And that was none other than a glowing blue gemstone that sat clutched between Valdís' fingers.

With a grunt, she raised her arms and pushed at a cloud sitting directly above her head. Below her, the waves of the ocean were mild, with the sunrays reflecting off the water giving it an almost unearthly sort of glow. As her fingers brushed the cloud, she expected to feel a slight dampness or perhaps even nothing, but her heartrate increased when a prickle of pain travelled up her fingers, prompting the girl to quickly draw them back. The tiniest droplets of vermillion blood decorated the very tips of her fingers, where the skin had been scraped away, similar to a fall taken on concrete. But the cloud was no concrete. No, the cloud was made of ice.

"Aimée, leave her!"

Cerise Chevalier, their supervisor, had somehow disappeared during the confusion that ensured after Valdís had somehow stumbled upon the gem, and attempted to take it. The details were sketchy to her, as she had been inspecting another part of the ruins at the time of the accident, but it was Aimée's shriek of fear that caught her attention. She'd arrived at the scene just in time to see Valdís collapse onto the damp, miry Yucátan earth, entire body jerking and shuddering as if under cardiac arrest, before her head suddenly lolled to one side and she grew still. Not dead, just still. She'd checked for a heartbeat and found one, but despite both of their best efforts, Valdís Kvaran would not wake up.

This new discovery triggered something inside of her. Something had come up and slapped her in the face. She turned, and with gravity warped, managed to find herself dangling upside down with a pounding heart and blood rushing into her skull. The cloud. The cloud was made of ice. The sun was bleeding. The water and the sky was molding together, blue and blue. Why did that seem so familiar to her? Blue and blue. Two different shades. Two different pairs of eyes. Darkness and light. The golden child and the scrapegoat.

Aimée and Adrienne.

"Aimée, please!" This time, she was tugging on her sister's sleeve, digging her feet into the mud in a desperate attempt to get her to budge. "I can't find Cerise and we can't do anything for Valdís, you hear?" She shook the girl hard on the shoulder, feeling her irises burn and knowing that she was close to tears. The wind howled louder, and she had to raise her voice and shout into Aimée's ear, "Goddamint, Aimée, stop being so stubborn and go! Please, just go!"

"No!" With a surprising amount of strength that she didn't even know Aimée processed, she was shoved roughly away from her sister into the dirt, as droplets of thin, stinging rain started to pour above her. As she lay there, more shocked than angry or afraid, Aimée turned towards her and screamed, "I'm not leaving her!"

She looked around, and for the first time, noticed how much she was trembling. And it was not from the icy coldness of the cloud, either.

For a few brief seconds, there was a pause between the two sisters, with only the screaming of the wind and the pitter-patter of rain to assault their eardrums. As Aimée turned back to cradle Valdís' head on her knee, she acted on impulse. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she did not feel the need, the burning desire to prove herself to anyone. Not her parents, not Aimée, and definitely not herself. Instead, there was no goal for her other than the fatey of her sister, and as she strode forward, shoving past Aimée and getting to her knees, she managed to whisper, "Alright then."

The gemstone glowed.

"I'm going to make this right."

She inhaled deeply, and before anything could be said, grabbed the stone.

"And here I am," she murmured in awe, as realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She was Adrienne Bellamont. She was seventeen years old. She was a witch. She had come to Yucátan on an expedition to find out who she truly was.

And who are you, Adrienne? The voice was not hers, nor Aimée's, nor Valdïs', nor anyone's. It was just there. Who is the real you?

Usually, she would take more time to think about such a deep question and to evaluate her answer. Yet, in this case, there was no need, for her answer had already popped up into her mind. With a soft smile, she crossed her arms over her chest and let her eyes glaze over the beauty of the world around her, the world she had been transported to. "The real me?" She chuckled, and again, for the first time, did not feel anything weighing her down. There was no guilt, no sadness, no hesitation or doubt over her own abilities.

"I'm Adrienne Bellamont, and I love my sister."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tamara Anacourt

The gentle pitter-patter of the soft rain outside sent forth a fresh earthy aroma to the Beauxbatons tent, where I, along with Aimée and Adrienne, were confined to due to the current weather conditions. The two sisters were talking to each other in low voices by their cots, though I couldn't hear what they were saying. Actually, to put it in better words, I wasn't tuning into their conversation at all. I was perched atop my cot, my legs crossed on the mattress as I stared at the sketchbook in my hands, the graphite markings on the white page making up the village which I saw in my dreams, a place that I knew must have once existed here.

It had to be real. How else would one explain the veil which glimmered in such an inviting and alluring manner in the sky, regardless of the time of day? By chance there had to be something hidden behind it; with a veil came secrets that had yet to be unveiled. I gently ran my fingertips over the smooth papery surface of the page, hearing once more in my mind the soft crackling of fire, the merry laughter escaping into the air, the distant chanting from afar that evoked peace within me if only for a moment. It was strange how Faraji didn't acknowledge the veil during the Quidditch game—was he trying to save the rest of the students from more trouble, or did he really not see it? Perhaps he was doing everyone a favour if the former was true, but it didn't help me in return.

Didn't anyone know just how badly I wanted to solve this mystery? I let out a sigh as I lay back against the cot, my head landing hard against the tough pillow, my sketchbook held close to my chest. Perhaps I really was going insane with every waking thought surrounded around the veil in the sky and the village in my dreams, but something about them had to make sense sooner or later. The real question, however, was when.

"Tamara. Hello? Earth to Tamara Anacourt?"

"Huh?" I sat up to see both sisters scowling somewhat at me like I've just ruined their plans for a perfect vacation. Of course, they would. By this point, it's kind of evident that I was raining on their perfect parade, and the way they were treating me as of late was like the way they would treat a scab in which they couldn't wait to flick off of their skins. Leave it to me to spoil what could have been their "perfect sister getaway" anyway.

"Gloria just dropped by," Adrienne reported edgily. "She told us to meet her and the rest of the experts and explorers outside. The rain should be stopping soon, so...you know."

"Sure. One sec," I responded offhandedly as I rolled off the mattress, threw the sketchbook into my bag which I slung over my shoulder, and retrieved my wand before following them outside. The scent that the rain brought to the normally dense hot air instantly invigorated my senses and I smiled at the refreshing coolness that replaced the blistering heat. Taking in a deep breath, I allowed the earthy fragrance to seep into my system, at the same time allowing positive thoughts to rush through.

I could get to the bottom of this. As long as the sun shone over the prospects of me finding the answers to the questions I had, anything could happen.

"This piece of news may disappoint you all, but the students we thought to have recovered...were not really those students at all," Gloria told everyone dejectedly the moment everyone was present. "It was very hard, actually, to trace your missing schoolmates. One possible location of their whereabouts lies in an ancient ruin, located by a trail just somewhere nearby—one and a half klicks northeast, according to David." She gave him a curt nod before continuing. "If we're not mistaken, this could be where the missing students are."

"And the treasure?" I heard Elspeth pipe up, her hand rising tentatively in the air.

Gloria nodded. "Quite possibly, yes." She paused just for a moment, gazing at all of us with a strict glare, before continuing. "In groups of three, you shall, along with one of us, explore the ruins of the Yucatan Peninsula. By chance, we might be able to locate some clues regarding your missing schoolmates, or even discover some very interesting things that could tell the tales of what once was here. Do be wary of the dangers lurking about you, and you just might be able to find something worthwhile."

Internally, I groaned. If there was one thing these experts would never understand, it would be the fact that I would rather solve this mystery on my own rather than having people bombard me with questions. But if Gloria was right about the dangers intensifying the longer we stayed...maybe it would be wiser to go off with someone, even confide in them about my strange visions and theory. Who knew, maybe one of them might be able to help me out with this mystery. The only problem, however, laid in finding someone to actually talk to.

To my surprise, I found myself grouped with Ailenia of Castelobruxo and Vendetta of Durmstrang. I didn't even have to think twice about my companions; they seemed to be very good people to work with, what with their interesting dispositions and their consistent drives to uncover the secrets of El Dorado as badly as I did. Silently, the three of us followed Monsieur Goethe through the trail which he had located while we were playing Quidditch earlier today, making our way through the slightly less humid jungle full of dense green foliage and emerging from it into what could look like the site of an ancient civilization.

The sight of the site made my jaw drop in awe. Never had I ever thought of arriving to something like this. Several concrete blocks and sections of broken pillars were scattered amidst the tall green grass that sprung from the ground in tall shoots, a tapestry of green waving slightly in the breeze. Broken walls bearing runes of a sort were also strewn around the site. This must have been a true archaeologist's paradise—the first step in discovering the lost city of El Dorado. If Gloria was right, this could be the beginning of the greatest pinnacle of our lives.

"This is amazing!" I heard Ailenia cry as she ran straight towards the ruins.

"I agree," Vendetta added with a laugh as she joined her. "Imagine what we could find here! It's like a gold mine for the most ambitious of explorers!"

I nodded slowly as I took another look round the site, my eyes sweeping slowly around the area before they fixated themselves on what I was truly looking for—the blue veil that held itself in the sky, shimmering in such a mesmerizing manner...

"Why don't you join them, Tamara?"

I jumped as I heard Monsieur Goethe speak up from behind me, and I turned to him indignantly.

"Can't an explorer have a bit of time to herself?" I asked him, almost snappishly.

"Sorry." Monsieur Goethe cleared his throat and stepped away. "I was just curious—"

"Were you really?" I cocked my head in intrigue. "I'd suppose you'd wonder why I was staring at the sky all this time?"

"Hmm?" Monsieur Goethe glanced up, and a frown instantly decked over his face.

"You see it, don't you?" I asked. "When one sees a veil, they assume something's behind it. There has to be something behind it!" And before I knew it, I was telling him about my dream of the village and the theory that connected the veil to the fact that this village must have once been in existence. After all, what was a city, even if it was a lost one, without inhabitants? This veil had to link to something.

"I don't digress with your theory, Tamara," Monsieur Goethe eventually said after a moment of tense silence. "I could see the veil too. There's a possibility that something could be shrouded there, but we can't be too sure. Who knows, perhaps the veil was placed there by so complex of magical means from a very long time ago, it would take us forever to remove it. We should stick to what we can work with for now just so that we can get a good start on what we know. Would that work for you?"

Before I could answer, I heard Vendetta shout in glee.

"Hey Tamara! Ailenia! You should come see this!"

I nodded briefly at Monsieur Goethe before running off to see Vendetta crouched by a rather large slab of stone, ancient engravings embossed deeply into the granite. At first, they were difficult to comprehend, but a closer look at the pictures depicted on the stone tablet suddenly made a lot more sense.

"You don't suppose they're runes of a sort?" I asked Ailenia quietly, turning to her expectantly. Out of all of us, Ailenia seemed to be the most capable of deciphering something like this.

"I think they are," Ailenia murmured softly, crouching beside Vendetta and lifting a hand to trace the markings. "This is so fascinating."

"You know what they mean?" Vendetta questioned as I pulled out my sketchbook from my bag and copied the runes carefully onto a clean page.

Ailenia shook her head sadly. "They seem very incomplete. The only way we can see what's going on is if we have another piece to the puzzle. It's a bit like a jigsaw, really, the way everything's scattered about."

I nodded silently as I finished up the drawing, and I was about to put my sketchbook away when I caught sight of something glinting a few feet away in the grass. Slowly, I inched towards the shiny trinket, eyes widening when I recognized it as a basic gold locket, long tarnished from time and wear. The pendant was shaped like an intricate sun, wrought in a foreign and yet beautiful design, hanging from an equally tarnished long and fine chain. Frowning, I picked it up and popped it open, revealing a small folded piece of parchment in its open shell.

"This is strange," I murmured to myself as I took the parchment out, unfolded it, and silently read the note written on it.

September 25, 1639

My dear Paulina,

I must depart today for France. Thank you so much for your hospitality over the past few weeks—your people have been very welcoming and kind, and I am forever indebted to you and your services. The magic of the City of Gold—El Dorado—was much too strong for us to comprehend or conquer. We cannot explore this further without endangering anyone. I advise you, Paulina, to warn your children of the dark magic that surrounds you. As long as it is still there, no one is safe.

Take good care of them, take good care of yourself, and I bid you adieu.

-Julien Anacourt

How coincidental was it to have come across a locket with a letter written by someone who was probably one of my ancestors? Did he also once try to locate El Dorado? By the look of it, so many people have been searching for this lost city for centuries now; I knew I was right in that fact, having mentioned it to Monsieur Goethe—perhaps I should just refer to him as David now—and Madame Chevalier at the interview back at school. But if the magic surrounding this lost city has somehow survived for centuries...

There was no wonder the explorers of the past could only come up with theories of this place. The magic of El Dorado had been messing with everyone's minds. No one was able to come to absolute conclusions under these weird circumstances.

Suddenly, I heard an ear-splitting scream that made me look up instantly, the grip on Julien Anacourt's letter tightening.

"Ghosts!" Ailenia shouted, running by me as fast as she could, dragging Vendetta by the arm. "There are angry ghosts! They're going to kill us!"

For a moment, I thought she was joking. Then I saw the pearly white figures floating towards us at inhuman speed, brandishing conquistador swords of a sort. Instantly I jumped up, folding the parchment as quickly as I could and scooped the locket up as well, shoving them into my bag and running as fast as my legs could take me. As we fled back to David, who then herded us safely back to camp without question, I could only form two coherent thoughts.

It was possible that El Dorado did not want to be found.

And to protect its treasure, no magic was too dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Valdis Kvaran

DEATH TOO HORRIFIC FOR DETAILS. MEMORY CHARMS ADMINISTERED BY DAVID.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vendetta Moroz

 Yet again, Vendetta Moroz had encountered chartreuse eyes.

Of course, she had learned by now his given name, but names didn't really matter in the long run- only if she wanted to sound professional when speaking to him- which she would do, of course, if ever needing to- but in the puzzle of figuring someone out, a name meant nothing. It was all about the personality, the way they acted, expressions and when they lacked them. Sure, they identified a person, but could names ever reveal a person in full? They were a tiny shard in the huge stained glass window of a human, decorated with different colors and designs that typically weren't seen all at once.

It was because of this that Vendetta still hadn't bothered to learn the names of the other adolescents, either. The groups had been mixed up, scrambled from their previous expedition comrades when searching for the lost leader- they had to be, with all the students who had disappeared since then. The dangers were becoming all the more real, but Vendetta continued to ignore them. She saw them creeping up on her in her peripheral vision, faint shadows of hands reaching out to grab her, but a simple spell of light sent them scurrying away. The girl was not intimidated by the uncertainty that infected the other students, more than sure nothing would affect her. Vendetta was invincible, and the shadows knew it- nothing would challenge her.

But at the same time, as she had glanced about the group of students who remained, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of doubt in the back of her mind, one she just couldn't force herself to shoo away so quickly. It was a startling realization when her eyes had only landed upon one other girl from Durmstrang lingering amongst some Beauxbatons students. Durmstrang- Vendetta had attended the tough school, cold and harsh, a winter blizzard that pelted each of them mercilessly. She had always heard the other schools were the easier seasons, warm and comfortable. How had people who survived the hail not made it through a silly expedition? Vendetta couldn't understand their incapability.

Embarking once again into the jungle, the girl found herself at the back of the group, the protector of her comrades. They were children again, playing follow the leader as chartreuse eyes muttered some enchantment or another, vines parting majestically under the spell. The plants were their subjects, wizards and witches the royalty, basking in the power magic gave them. They could turn anything they wanted into something else, make them do things previously deemed impossible. Vendetta loved that power she could conjure from just a crafted piece of wood. Sure, there were limits to everything, but those brief moments of control filled her with a sense of exhilaration nothing else gave.

Her own magical abilities went towards a shield protecting her colleagues from the steady downpour that bounced off of the invisible cover. The fresh, unceasing rain filled the air with a sense of urgency, droplets hurtling to the earth in colossal numbers, at a speed Vendetta was unsure anything but light could match. Water rammed into the jungle floor, pooling around the feet of the explorers in increasingly large puddles. The thickness of the rain made the lights of wands in other groups barely distinguishable, faint through the buckets of water the sky had decided to release upon them.

Their pace was slightly slower than expected with the cumbersome weather, but soon the four reached the outskirts of the ruins. Through the rain, most could make out the slightly blurry buildings that awaited them with a cold smirk. Drawing closer, Vendetta briefly glanced at the towering structures, layered stone staircases that seemed to reek hostility, a forgotten past filled with horrors incomprehensible to the students. The buildings seemed relatively intact, still standing tall- they had not lost their pride yet, would not tarnish the legacy of those who had created them. Yet age had taken a toll on them, and small sections where the carefully-crafted rocks crumbled were visible here and there, enchantments finally beginning to wear off after thousands of years. Magic had far from diminished, though; the fierce rain seemed to be concentrated over the ruins, creating darkness where darkness had always reigned. Storm clouds gathered tighter together, a mob of nimbostratus that permitted no mercy, sending down armies of water without end. Lightning flashed over the horizon, a brilliant, jagged beam that only added to the threatening presence.

The ruins held Vendetta's attention for some time, but as she felt shivers crawling up her spine, her gaze dropped, then darted to the other students in her group. It was not the time to be the frightened Vendetta, intimidated by things as silly as buildings- that was a Vendetta she hardly ever chose to be, a Vendetta she hated being. And even worse- that Vendetta had threatened to become her, the true Vendetta underneath the masks she wore. That was not who she was. It could not be who she was. She was too smart to fall into the trap that fear constructed, the sly web it wove intended to capture any unfortunate creature that wandered by.

She was not the only one to narrowly escape the bonds of terror, though- it was obvious from the stricken faces of her companions that the ruins hadn't struck only Vendetta in a strange way. A chestnut-haired girl seemed to be unable to tear her eyes away, a combination of terror and intrigue ignited inside her. The second, on the other hand, appeared as though she was preparing to run for her life if the opportunity arose, more than ready to leave the ruins behind despite that they had just arrived.

Beckoning them forward, chartreuse eyes took careful steps forward, a sense of wariness increasing. They made their way across the open field to the wall of the nearest ancient building at a snail's pace. Too soon, their leader sharply raised a hand; each student paused in their tracks too abruptly, a domino chain of collisions. Vendetta would have smirked at one of the girl's shaking had her heart not been pounding as well. There was nothing to be afraid of, though, was there? It was just some old buildings and a thunderstorm. That was all. Nothing could hurt Vendetta even if there was something dangerous- she was invincible.

"There's a ward here," chartreuse eyes muttered, almost incomprehensibly. The three students watched him expectantly as he murmured another phrase, one Vendetta assumed would help him learn more about the spell. She had learned some about Mayan magic, though much knowledge had escaped her as she called upon it- or perhaps that was just the fear, wrecking everything inside her mind except survival instincts and the urge that she should just get out of there as soon as possible.

If Vendetta had been in front instead of behind each of the others, she would have seen the chartreuse eyes widen, the expedition leader's mouth drop open slightly in shock and disappointment, and even the flash of fear that struck him, but disappeared as fast as the lightning had. Turning around to face the students, his expression was simply stoic. "We're leaving."

Vendetta raised an eyebrow, curious why he had decided now of all times, but her faint movement went unnoticed as one of her companions burst out, "But what about the missing students?"

Chartreuse eyes turned to her, and after a quiet, defeated sigh, stated, "There's nothing we can do for them." He pushed past each of the girls as they didn't move, shocked. Even Vendetta, the girl who cared the least, had thought there would at least be some form of trying to help.

But as a shrill, piercing scream echoed throughout the ruins, bouncing off each structure until it reached the ears of Vendetta's temporary team, she knew just how right he was.