"Don't." The word slipped from between my lips, a fragile plea that seemed to hang in the air, thick with desperation. The boy before me faltered, stumbling back against the stone railing, his fingers clinging to it like a lifeline as he regained his balance. I stepped forward, my whole body shaking as I watched the boy carelessly standing on the tower's edge, outside the railing that kept him standing. His back was to me, but he knew who I was. I could tell, his breathing grew heavier, his knuckles turning white as his grip strengthened.

"Leave, please?" his voice was barely a whisper, I could hear the way his voice cracked, informing me that he was crying. "You weren't supposed to see it- see me." I felt the knot in my stomach grow tight, my heart thumped out of my chest. It broke me to see him like this, fragile and shaking, like a newborn. He never let anyone, including me, see him like this. I'd never seen him cry, but his sadness was never a secret. I couldn't do anything, he never let me. I thought he had gotten better, I thought he was happy, I should've known better. I should've watched him and cared for him, I should've made him tell me what was going on. But I already knew. The way his father's twisted way of raising his son had brought him to the brink of insanity, I should've been there.

"You're too late." He climbed over the rail, before looking at me. His eyes were dark and red, it was clear he had been crying. The cold wind blew in his hair, the war in his head was obvious in his expression. He reached for his sleeve, rolling it up, his body shaking, and suddenly my voice was gone and I had gone paralysed. My eyes were stuck on the black ink etched on his arm, he had done it, he had joined the dark lord.

The realization hit like a blow, stealing my words. The Barty had crossed a line I never imagined. Hope vanished at that moment. My hands trembled, but I couldn’t move, my eyes fixed on the mark that bound him to something I couldn’t understand.

He was right there, but he was already gone.