The girl dreamt of a forest.
It was the sort of dream that didn't feel like a dream at all— oddly realistic, yet somehow alien.
She squinted.
For most two- to four-legged beings, sight was the dominant sense— whether in the waking world or in dreams. But for some reason, she could barely see more than a yard ahead— the world beyond was a blur. And yet, despite her near-blind state, she knew her surroundings with startling clarity, down to the wood mouse pretending to forage behind that pine tree…
Just overthere.
The girl took a shallow breath.
The air brushing against her cheeks was cool and humid and… oddly realistic, giving her the distinct impression that she was truly there, even though she knew she was dreaming. In a brief flash of lucidity, a thought crossed Oleandra's (?) mind— if it weren't for the fact that she had no control over her actions, she could have sworn she was awake.
The girl struggled.
Her wrists were bound behind her back, but no matter— with a sharp tug, her arms came free, and the rope that had held her captive unravelled and dropped to the ground, its ends frayed. And with her newfound freedom, the girl started worrying about new priorities.
Was there aught that could be eaten around here?
The girl sniffed at the air, almost animalistically.
The air smelled mostly of damp earth, the recent rain having scrubbed the forest clean of any other scent. There was nothing more to be gleaned from that particular avenue. Quick as a flash, the girl darted over to the wood mouse and picked it up by the tail, before swallowing it whole.
A most unsatisfying snack.
The girl perked up her ears.
Sounds— rhythmic, structured, almost musical. The cry of the two-legged prey? The sounds were growing closer, so the girl took flight up the nearest tree and perched on a high branch, pressing herself flat against the trunk.
Five two-legged animals armed with sticks.
"The Fairy got loose!" cried one of the two-legged creatures. "It ate my bloody familiar!"
"Does anyone have eyes on it?" shouted another.
"Well, it's a Fairy, innit?" said a third, shrugging his shoulders. "Couldn't it have just flown away?"
As one, the five creatures looked up, startling the girl.
Her ancestral memories stirred— they told her that the two-legged variety of prey rarely looked skywards. So, for all of them to do so at once? That was strange indeed… but it mattered little. Her hide was invulnerable, so she would hunt them down one by one and smother them until their last breath escaped their lungs, and then she would feast.
"???"
Suddenly, the flexible branch she stood on sprouted new, sinewy limbs. The newly grown branches wrapped around her ankles and wrists, binding her tightly to the trunk. Annoyed, the girl shook herself free, slicing the young wood with tendrils of darkness lined with razor-sharp teeth that briefly emerged from her skin.
Grinning widely, the girl allowed herself to slip off her perch, and she fell upon the prey closest to the tree. She drove her feet into its shoulders, feeling its clavicles shattering. She would enjoy sucking the marrow out of its bones for dessert, later.
The prey fell with a pained cry, and before its companions could react, she jumped to the next closest two-legged prey and grabbed its head. She twisted in mid-air, and the prey's neck easily came off.
"Monster!" cried one of the three surviving animals.
…
Pain flared across Oleandra's forehead. Even through the haze of her dream, Oleandra could feel the men's terror through Ægishjálmur, the Lokk of the Helm of Terror branded on her forehead. It had been some time since she'd last felt the darker aspect of the Helm gnawing at her soul…
As her strength had grown, she'd begun to phase out the dark side of runic magic; these days, she was rarely in dire enough straits for ordinary runic magic not to suffice.
After all, dark magic harmed its caster just as much as it did its victims— just in different ways. In her heart of hearts, Oleandra knew deep down that if she attempted to rely on the darkest of magics to escape her fate, she would end up just like Fafnir, that gigantic Lindworm branded with Ægishjálmur.
The Dragonkin that had almost eaten her whole in Nidavellir, three years ago… A mindless beast, a spawn of Níðhöggr…
…
The Lethifold paused.
Its two-legged host was distracting it— so many little thoughts, whizzing about her head. It was quite bothersome, really.
When the Lethifold named Suit had answered the pull of the deep magic inscribed in its bloodline just a few minutes ago, it had consented to be bonded to the two-legged prey named Oleandra through a naming ceremony and ritualistic offering of blood, just like its sire Cloak before it.
However, it hadn't been expecting for there to be quite so much thinking! Really, couldn't its host wait until it was done securing dinner?
And once more, they were one.
…
The girl blinked and turned her attention back to the remaining prey to be slaughtered. The two-legged creatures had shed their skins, and much to her delight, they had begun transforming into various types of four-legged prey— a wolf, a stag, and a bear. These were much better prey that the two-legged creatures! A bit more difficult to hunt on average, but so much more meat.
The wolf howled, the stag bellowed, and the bear roared— and in response to their challenge, the girl let out an ear-piercing shriek. This, she thought to herself, was going to be fun.
…
Before she even opened her eyes, the first thing Oleandra noticed upon waking up was the stench of blood assailing her nostrils. It was a smell she knew all too well, unfortunately— it was the odour that would inevitably accompany the Dusk-Elf's massacres in her mad quest for vengeance, whenever Oleandra crossed paths with her. Who had she killed this time?
"Harry!" gasped Oleandra.
Her memories of the dream were rapidly fading, replaced by those of her last moments of consciousness. She'd gone to Professor Slughorn's party, and then… she'd actually killed the Dusk-Elf who'd been hunting her all these years…? It almost didn't seem real…
"Malfoy…" growled Oleandra.
Somehow, he must have found a way to sneak the Elf into the castle. But how— and why?
Whatever the reason, it could wait. For now, one thing was clear: she'd somehow been sent back to the past. When she'd return, she'd expected to wake in chains; clapped in irons and kept under close watch. But for some reason, she didn't appear to be in custody— her surroundings looked nothing like the hillfort where Wanderer had been taken. Glancing around, she realised she was in a forest, surrounded by animal carcasses. Assuming a large predator was nearby, Oleandra made herself scarce, slipping away in a random direction without looking back…