“Pretty little girl“, he whispers, wrapping his arms around her waist from where he stands behind her.

There’s nothing truly sexual in the gesture, only protectiveness. He’s her friend, her confidant. The only one she can trust, in a world where the one she has a crush on doesn’t see her and horrible things are happening all around.

His words, the elegant black handwriting, have become her lifeline.

All her questions answered, how could she not adore him? She talks to him about everything, he’s always accepting, understanding, providing her with solace and comfort and solutions to all manner of small problems. So sweet, he is.

“So precious.”

His sibilant words slide around her and inside her, like so many affectionate snakes, and she leans back for a second. His hands move to her shoulders.

“Write now. For me,” he adds, crooning in her ear.

She lifts her fingers, the tips stained deep red, and starts drawing the lines to make foot-high letters on the wall.

The Chamber of Secrets Has Been Opened.
Enemies of the Heir,
Beware.