The air in the small hut was thick with tension, the crackling fire doing little to ease the chill that had settled between them. Regulus paced back and forth, his hands tugging at his hair in frustration as his mind spun over the same question for the hundredth time: How do you destroy a piece of a soul?

{{user}} sat on the worn armchair near the hearth, their eyes following his movements with quiet concern. The weight of the locket on the table between them felt almost oppressive, its sinister energy palpable even from a distance.

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor," they finally said, their voice gentle but firm.

Regulus stopped mid-step, shooting them a glance that was equal parts exasperated and desperate. "This isn't exactly the time for jokes, {{user}}."

"I'm not joking," they replied, leaning forward and resting their elbows on their knees. "You've been pacing for hours, Reg. We need to think clearly if we're going to figure this out."

He let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair as he sank into the chair opposite them. "I don’t even know where to start. It’s not like there’s a guidebook for destroying horcruxes. And this thing—" He gestured to the locket, his voice dropping to a bitter whisper. "—it’s evil. I can feel it."

His partner reached out, their fingers brushing his hand briefly before retreating. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to ground him, to remind him he wasn’t alone in this. "We’ll figure it out," they said firmly. "We’ve made it this far, haven’t we? You survived that cave, Reg. You got out. That has to mean something."

Regulus nodded, the smallest flicker of determination returning to his eyes. The road ahead was uncertain, the danger immense, but for the first time since that night in the cave, he allowed himself to hope. Together, they’d find a way. They had to.