At Hogwarts, the fire in the Slytherin Common Room flickered beneath rippling reflections, casting the dark green and silver decor in the light of a deep lakebed.
Ares sat in a spacious armchair by the fireplace, an ancient Guardian Contract manuscript spread open before him. He appeared absorbed in study, but from the corner of his eye, he never stopped watching Tom pacing by the window some distance away.
Tom's back was rigid, his jet-black hair leaving a cold, hard silhouette at the edge of the dancing firelight. He held a book as well, but Ares knew he had not read a single word.
Lefevre's words—"an embodiment of rules," "a grand narrative of fate, souls, even time and emotion"—coiled around him like invisible chains, tightening his absolute need for control.
[The target's emotions remain in a state of intense fluctuation. The host is advised to use a soothing item as soon as possible to reinforce the guidance effect.]
Ares sighed soundlessly and took out the rewarded Twin Bond Soothing Essential Oil from the system space. Within the small crystal bottle, the liquid gleamed in an unusual interwoven gold-and-silver hue, as though moonlight and starlight had been sealed inside.
He removed the stopper, and an extremely faint, cool, elegant fragrance spread through the air. It was not floral, but more like moss and ancient trees deep in a forest after rain, carrying a calming magic.
He rose and walked to Tom's side. Outside the window, the Black Lake lay silent, the shadow of a giant squid's tentacle occasionally gliding slowly past.
"Still thinking about what Lefevre said?" Ares's voice was so soft that it nearly blended into the crackling fire.
Tom did not turn around, but the taut line of his jaw loosened slightly. "He saw you, Ares." His voice was low and dangerous, like a whirlpool beneath dark currents. "He saw that you were 'different.' And this world will always try either to possess what is 'different' or destroy it completely."
That was how Tom Riddle understood things—possession or destruction, with no middle ground.
"So, we need stronger 'protection.'" Ares held out the bottle of essential oil, the gold-and-silver liquid slowly swirling inside. "Not just magic, but the bond between us. Try this. It might help you feel calmer."
Tom finally turned around. His deep eyes fell upon the small bottle, then lifted to inspect Ares's face, especially the winding Golden Chain Pattern beneath his left eye. "What is this?" he asked, his tone habitually suspicious, though beneath it lay a hidden desire to be soothed.
"An ancient calming formula I happened to find." Ares glossed over the details, concealing the system's existence. "It can settle agitated magic, and perhaps... make our thoughts clearer as well."
Tom stared at him for several seconds, as though judging whether this was another gentle trap. In the end, he reached out—not to take the bottle, but to seize the wrist of the hand holding it. His fingertips were cool, yet his grip allowed no refusal. He guided Ares's hand, bringing the bottle to his own nose, and took a deep breath.
The cool, tranquil scent seemed to take effect at once. The violence and agitation churning in Tom's eyes visibly subsided. They did not vanish, but were forcibly pressed beneath a layer of ice. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, that extreme, cold rationality had returned.
"The Guardian Array." He released Ares's wrist, returning to the direction Ares had guided him toward earlier. "What did you find in that manuscript?"
Somewhat relieved, Ares spread the manuscript across the windowsill and pointed to several complex rune nodes. "Look here, and here. The core of these contracts is not taking, but 'giving' and 'connection.'"
It used the caster's magic, and even a portion of their emotional imprint, as its foundation to construct a protective domain. In theory, if the connection ran deep enough, it could even share damage and warn of danger.
"'Share damage'..." Tom repeated softly. A flash of brilliant light passed through his gray-black eyes—not emotion, but the calculating gleam of someone who had discovered a new tool. "A Symbiotic Contract based on the soul? More flexible than an Unbreakable Vow, more... functional than a simple blood pact."
He immediately grasped the key point. A Horcrux tore the soul apart in pursuit of immortality; it was selfishness taken to its extreme. This Guardian Contract, however, linked the power of souls in pursuit of coexistence—another form of "eternity." To him, the latter seemed more appealing in achieving his goal of binding Ares to him.
"It needs further verification." Tom made his decision swiftly. Once his innate drive for action was guided in the right direction, it erupted with astonishing efficiency. "This weekend. The Room of Requirement. We need practical data."
Just then, a slightly husky female voice with a foreign accent cut in, shattering the fragile balance that had only just formed between them.
"Discussing secrets? I hope I'm not interrupting."
Katarin Voronova leaned against the doorway leading to the dormitory corridor, her arms folded. She wore a fur-trimmed Durmstrang robe. In the firelight, her black eyes resembled two bottomless pools, carrying a wild wariness as her gaze moved between Ares and Tom before settling on the manuscript on the windowsill, clearly not part of the Hogwarts curriculum.
Tom's eyes turned to ice in an instant, and the hostility the essential oil had just soothed surfaced once more. "This has nothing to do with you, Vojanova."
"Perhaps it does, perhaps it doesn't." Katarin smiled indifferently and turned her gaze to Ares, her words pointed. "I simply think that someone with a unique light should not let their path be so easily fixed."
Durmstrang also had records concerning ancient contracts—some... involving ice, snow, and wolf packs, with more direct power. Sometimes, the shadows themselves were strong enough. There was no need to forever pursue the light—or," she paused, her eyes sweeping over Tom, "be bound by it."
Her words were like an icy dagger, striking precisely at Tom's most sensitive nerve—his complicated feelings toward Ares, a mixture of extreme possessiveness and fear of losing him. She was implying that Ares possessed value independent of him, implying that perhaps he did not need Tom.
The pressure around Tom instantly dropped to something terrifying. He did not lash out. He merely stared coldly at Katarin with eyes that could freeze blood, as though assessing an obstacle that needed to be removed.
Ares felt a headache coming on. Katarin's "interest," and the instability she brought with her, were even more troublesome than expected. He had to steady Tom.
"Everyone has their own path, Katarin," Ares replied calmly. At the same time, he subtly put away the bottle of essential oil. That small gesture seemed to ease the tension at the corner of Tom's mouth by a fraction. "And we know exactly where we stand with each other."
Katarin raised an eyebrow, seeming neither surprised nor disappointed by the answer. "Good. Staying clear-headed is the first rule of survival." She gave Ares one last meaningful look before turning and disappearing into the shadows of the corridor, retreating silently like a true wolf.
After she left, the Common Room sank into an even deeper silence. The fire continued to crackle, while the waters of the Black Lake surged soundlessly.
"She's trying to drive us apart." Tom's voice was cold enough to pierce bone, carrying a suppressed killing intent.
"She can't." Ares spoke with absolute certainty. He had to give Tom the reassurance he needed most at this moment. "No one can shake our 'anchor.'"
Tom looked deeply into his eyes. The frost in his gaze was gradually replaced by something deeper and more complicated—possessiveness, dependence, and a faint, almost imperceptible fear stirred up once more by Katarin's words. He said nothing further, only turned his gaze back toward the endless darkness beyond the window. Yet this time, his body angled slightly toward Ares, as though confirming his presence.
Ares knew that the path of guiding Tom remained covered in thorns. The alchemist's gaze had brought the danger of exposure, the wild wolf's whisper stirred the temptation of independence, and Tom's deep craving for power and immortality had only been temporarily suppressed, far from erased.
He tightened his grip around the cool bottle of essential oil hidden in his sleeve. He knew that this faint glimmer struggling to endure within the shadows had to shine brightly enough to illuminate the perilous road beneath their feet—a road probing the edge of taboo and leading toward an unknown future.
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