The Wheel of Time

After the adoption ritual, Dorgrim led Helena and Rand to a deeper chamber, where a fountain of black water lay at the center, surrounded by columns adorned with carved serpents. The air was thick and cold, steeped in ancient magic. The atmosphere weighed heavily on them, as if the place itself were alive, watching and judging.

— This ritual will integrate the lineage into your blood — Dorgrim explained, his voice echoing off the stone walls. — Only those who are accepted can receive the lineage, for failure results in death. You must accept both the darkness and the light within you to become worthy of Salazar Slytherin's heritage.

Helena took a deep breath, her heart racing. She felt the weight of Dorgrim's words, but also a determination she hadn't known before. — I'm ready — she said, her voice steady despite the trembling in her hands.

Dorgrim nodded, his face serious, and handed her a silver dagger with a serpent carved into its hilt. The blade gleamed in the faint light of the chamber, and Helena felt a chill run down her spine as she gripped it. Rand watched silently, his eyes filled with concern, but he knew he couldn't interfere. This was the path Helena had chosen.

— Cut your left wrist and let seven drops fall into the water — Dorgrim instructed, his voice grave and commanding.

With trembling hands, Helena made the cut. The sharp blade slid smoothly across her skin, and blood began to trickle slowly. She held her wrist over the fountain, letting seven drops fall into the black water. As soon as the blood touched the surface, the water began to bubble, emitting a ghostly green glow that illuminated the chamber.

The serpents carved into the columns seemed to come alive, their stone bodies moving slowly, whispering in a forgotten tongue. The sound was low, almost inaudible, but Helena felt the words echoing in her mind, as if they were trying to communicate with something deep within her.

— Accept the legacy — Dorgrim murmured, his voice now softer, almost reverent. — Call the serpent by the name that dwells in your blood.

Helena closed her eyes, feeling the weight of history and magic around her. She took a deep breath and whispered: — Salazar...

The water boiled violently, and a ghostly serpent emerged from the fountain, its translucent body glowing. The creature coiled around Helena, its eyes shining like emeralds. The serpent hissed in Parseltongue, the language of snakes, and Helena understood every word as if it were her native tongue.

— You are worthy — the serpent hissed, its voice echoing in Helena's mind. — Heir to wisdom and cunning... but only if you resist the venom.

Before Helena could react, the serpent bit her wrist, injecting a cold venom that spread through her body like a wave of fire and ice. She fell to her knees, gasping, as the pain coursed through her veins. The runes around the chamber lit up in an intense green, illuminating the space with a supernatural light.

The pain was nearly unbearable, but Helena knew she couldn't give up. She clenched her teeth, fighting to stay conscious as the venom did its work. Slowly, the pain began to subside, and a serpent mark appeared on her left arm, glowing faintly.

— Heir accepted — Dorgrim proclaimed, his voice filled with reverence. — The lineage of Salazar Slytherin now flows through your veins.

Rand exhaled slowly, relieved but still concerned. He knew the next ritual would be even more dangerous.

Dorgrim led them to a room illuminated only by blue flames floating in the air. At the center of the room stood an ancient mirror, its frame gilded and its glass cracked. The mirror seemed alive, its surface reflecting not just images but also the deepest emotions and desires of those who gazed into it.

— The lineage of Grindelwald is forged from raw power and a desire for freedom — Dorgrim said, his voice echoing in the silent room. — Only those who face their own mind can be accepted by it.

Helena stared at her reflection in the mirror, where her face flickered between her true self and an older, darker, more powerful version. She felt a strange pull, as if the mirror were trying to draw her in.

— Step into the mirror — Dorgrim instructed, his voice firm.

Helena took a step forward, passing through the liquid surface of the glass. Inside the mirror, she found herself in an infinite room, surrounded by versions of herself — some kind, others cruel, all representing different paths she could take. The mirror whispered ancient secrets, tempting her with promises of power and glory.

— Choose who you wish to be — a deep voice echoed in her mind.

Helena took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She felt the temptation, the desire for power and control, but she held her heart steady. — I want to be myself — she replied, her voice clear and determined.

A bright light enveloped Helena, and she was thrown back into the room. Her body trembled, but her eyes now shone with a silvery hue, the mark of Grindelwald's lineage.

— Heir accepted — Dorgrim declared, his voice filled with respect. — The lineage of Gellert Grindelwald is now a part of you.

Rand knelt beside her, placing his hands on her shoulders. — You did it, Helena... but the journey is only beginning.

Helena looked at him, her heart racing but determined. — I'm ready — she whispered, before exhaustion overtook her. Her eyes closed, and she fainted, falling into Rand's arms.

He held her carefully, his face filled with concern but also pride. — You did something incredible, Helena — he murmured as he carried her out of the chamber. — Now, rest.

And so, as the blue flames in the room slowly dimmed, Rand carried Helena back to the inn room, where she could rest and recover.

Rand laid Helena on the bed and returned to the hallway, where the others were waiting. Lan leaned against the wall, while the others kept a respectful distance, unable to hear what had transpired inside the room. The gleeman muttered something about having better things to do with his time and left with a stern "Remember what I said" to the boys. No one else seemed inclined to leave.

Rand had no idea how much time had passed since he'd left, but when the door finally opened, he realized everyone was still waiting. Nynaeve stepped out and started at the sight of Lan. The Warder murmured something that made her turn her head angrily, then he walked past her and entered the room she had just left.

Nynaeve turned toward Rand, and for the first time, he noticed the others had silently disappeared. He didn't want to face the Wisdom alone, but he couldn't leave now that their eyes had met. Her eyes were particularly piercing, he thought, intrigued. What had they said? He straightened as she approached.

She gestured to Tam's sword.

— It seems to suit you now, though I'd have preferred it didn't. You've grown, Rand.

— In a week? — He laughed, but it sounded forced, and she shook her head as if he didn't understand. — Did she convince you? — he asked. — It's really the only way. — He paused, thinking of Min's sparks. — Are you coming with us?

Nynaeve's eyes widened.

— Go with you? Why would I do that? Mavra Mallen came from Deven Ride to take care of things until I return, but she'll want to go home as soon as she can. I still hope to make you see reason and come back with me.

— We can't — Rand replied firmly. He thought he saw something move in the still-open doorway, but they were alone in the hallway.

— You've told me that, and so has she — Nynaeve frowned. — If she weren't involved in all this… Aes Sedai aren't to be trusted, Rand.

— I know they're not trustworthy, but it's our best choice right now. I can't protect everyone on my own. She and the Warder are a big help, but I can't be everywhere at once.

Nynaeve glanced at the door again before answering. There was no movement there now.

— Something happened — he insisted. — Why do you want us to come back if you think there's a chance we're right? And why, of all people, you? It would've been easier to send the Mayor, not the Wisdom.

— You're insufferable when you want to be — she smiled, and for a moment, her amusement made him feel self-conscious. — I remember a time when you questioned where I chose to go, what I chose to do, or where I went. — Annoying, but persistent.

He cleared his throat and pressed on.

— It doesn't make sense. Why are you really here?