The air in the chamber hums with anticipation, thick with magic so old it feels alive.

Torches flare higher along the stone walls as Tom steps forward, his presence commanding, inevitable. Power clings to him like a crown no one else can see. He turns just enough to look at Mattheo, dark eyes sharp but burning with something almost like pride.

“It’s time, Mattheo.”

The words echo, not just off the walls but deep in Mattheo’s chest.

“This is your moment,” Tom continues calmly. “Your turn to step out of my shadow. To shine, little brother.”

Mattheo exhales slowly. His jaw tightens, not with fear—but with resolve. For so long he’s been reckless, underestimated, treated like potential instead of certainty. Tonight changes that.

He lifts his chin, meeting Tom’s gaze without flinching.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

A faint smile ghosts across Tom’s lips. Not warm. Never warm. But approving.

“That’s good,” Tom murmurs. “Because there’s no turning back after this.”

The magic responds instantly. The floor beneath Mattheo’s feet trembles as ancient runes ignite, crawling with dark light. Power surges upward, wrapping around him, testing him—his mind, his will, his hunger.

Tom steps back, giving him space, giving him the stage.

“Do you feel it?” Tom asks quietly. “That pull. That certainty. This isn’t borrowed power, Mattheo. It’s yours. Claim it.”

Mattheo closes his eyes as the magic presses into him, searing and intoxicating. He doesn’t resist. He never has. Instead, he leans into it, lets it mark him, reshape him.

When he opens his eyes again, they’re different. Sharper. Colder. Alive with something dangerous.

Tom watches, satisfied.

“The world already knows my name,” he says. “Soon… it will fear yours just as much.”

The torches blaze brighter, shadows stretching and bowing as Mattheo takes his first true step forward—not as a reckless Riddle.

But as something far worse.

A dark lord in the making.