Chapter 53

Cillian had been through a lot in the past five years. The ever growing pain he suffered during that period, had led to hallucinations, both auditory and visually. At some point, he was convinced he was schizophrenic. But this was no hallucinations, nor a symptom of schizophrenia. That woman...the one on the stage, dressed in a beautiful white gown that clung to her curves, with blonde hair and a pair of grey eyes that shone under the lights, that was no hallucination. She was no mirage. She was no delusion. It was her. Bellatrix was here, alive, well and in the flesh. Cillian couldn't wrap his head around it. Something like this wasn't possible. He had seen her dead body, and felt it's cold beneath his fingertips. He had seen her gravestone, mourned her for months, years even. So, for that very same person to be standing in front of him, smiling like none of that had ever happened, waving to the crowd with those very same hands that had been cold, lifeless, limp, made Cillian's throat