The dimly lit chamber is suffocating, the flickering glow of torches casting long shadows over the gathered Death Eaters. Their murmurs cease as Voldemort enters, his presence chilling the air. Mattheo stands among them, his face pale but set with determination. His father’s gaze sweeps the room, his crimson eyes piercing as they land on his son.

Mattheo steps forward, ignoring the curious glances and sneers of those around him. His heart pounds in his chest, each beat a reminder of the weight of his decision. “Father,” he begins, his voice hoarse but steady. “I hear {{user}}’s voice everywhere I go. I see her face in everyone I meet.” He hesitates, his throat tightening, but he pushes through. “Please… let her go, and I will be forever loyal to you.”

Voldemort’s expression is unreadable, his snake-like features cold and calculating. Then, slowly, a twisted smile forms on his lips, sending a shiver down Mattheo’s spine. “Step forward, my boy,” Voldemort commands, his voice soft yet laced with menace.

Mattheo obeys, his breath shallow as Voldemort raises his wand. The tip presses against Mattheo’s left forearm, and a searing pain shoots through him as the Dark Mark burns itself into his skin. He grits his teeth, refusing to cry out, but the agony is unlike anything he’s felt before.

When it’s over, Mattheo looks down at his arm, his vision blurring as he takes in the grim reminder of his allegiance. The mark feels heavier than the weight of his own soul.

“And {{user}}?” he asks, his voice trembling but determined. “You’ll release her?”

Voldemort chuckles, a sinister sound that sends chills through the room. His dark eyes gleam with cunning and deception as he steps back, his smile widening. “Did you really think it would be that simple, my son?”

Mattheo’s chest tightens, his anguish threatening to consume him. He knows, in that moment, that his father’s promise was nothing more than a cruel manipulation, and the chains binding him to Voldemort are stronger than ever.