The air was heavy with the acrid scent of smoke and burning earth. Ash drifted through the dim light of dusk, settling like snowfall on the broken battlegrounds where wizards and witches had fought for hours—days, even, though time seemed to blur when life became only about surviving the next spell.

You stood at the edge of the field, watching the remnants of another battle wane in the distance. The echo of cries and the flash of deadly curses still played in your mind, but none of it touched you, not truly. Not like it did before. Theseus had once told you that you were the bravest person he knew, but you had never believed it. It was hard to feel brave when you had already seen so much... when you had known.

The moment your parents fell, their screams swallowed by Grindelwald's black fire, you knew their end long before it came. Your visions had warned you, as they always did. No spell or charm could prevent it or erase it. Some things were just inevitable.

And you felt it now — inevitability weighing on your heart like the ashes underfoot. What was the point of continuing when war consumed everything? Each glimpse of the future only brought more loss and more darkness.

But then there was him.

Theseus stood beside you, his tall frame silhouetted against the dying sun, his deep blue eyes scanning the horizon. You knew he had seen just as much death, just as much pain. His scars were worn in battle, both seen and unseen. Yet, somehow, in all the chaos, he remained the constant — strong, unyielding, a force of both courage and compassion.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Theseus said, his voice low as he shifted his gaze to you. “You’re thinking about them again, aren’t you?”

You didn’t answer right away. There were no words that could truly express the weight of your visions, the burden of knowing what was to come before it arrived. How could you explain the endless nightmares, the ones that haunted you both waking and asleep, where every breath was a reminder of what you couldn’t stop?