The first pale rays of dawn broke over the horizon, piercing the dark sky. However powerful they could have been, they could not gaze upon the woman who needed the comfort they provided. Caught in her small, windowless rented room, she was curled into the corner, although she remained on her bed. The plain white sheets were twisted and thrown about, as if some sort of struggle at taken place. The woman’s tears were streaking black, soaking up her make-up as they fell uncontrollably. Gasping for air, it felt as if her lungs were being slowly and agonizingly crushed by the growing senses of fear and guilt that welled up inside of her. Fearfully, she stared at her hands.
Blood.
The still-warm liquid crimson covered her hands. It stained her clothes, drowned out the floor, splattered the walls and torturously imprinted itself onto her mind.
It did not belong to her - no, it belonged to them.
The corpses of those standing in front of her bed - swaying slowly, waiting for the look that would be her downfall. The smell of decay assaulted her, twisting her stomach into an endless array of knots, dragging up memories of the mirrors like the dead from a long forgotten mass grave. And the thoughts came flooding with them.
If it weren’t for you, they wouldn’t be dead. Like the crusades of old - all you left was dead bodies in your wake. What did you accomplish? You gave food for the worms. Really, you’ll be marked down as a hero for the ages, I’m sure.
Amber slowly clenched her hands in aggravation, the blood slowly seeping out from between her fingers.
The mirrors are gone, but your gods abandoned you. So much for that reward, huh? You’ve been left with more questions then ever, and no answers. My my, what is a girl to do?
Suddenly, she could hear the floorboards around her creak violently as the corpses lunged. Taking a sharp breath, she waited for the merciless hands to strike.
My guess is, however, you will find out all too much, in the end. Or not enough. Either way, life is not done with you yet. I doubt the gods are, either - After all, you are still alive. Whatever your next move may be if - if you trip, lets just hope you die and stay dead this time, shall we?
They never hit, however. The only sound in the room now was that of her breath that she released after holding it for some time. The pressure on her lungs faded away into nothingness. She opened her eyes.
No blood. She gradually opened her hands, some fear still locked inside. No blood there, either.
Another hallucination...?
Shuddering, she pushed herself off of her bed. All she felt was the urge to escape - to run away. But she new what she was running away to hurt her more then the solitude of this room did.
~~~
Despite the throbbing pain in her stump of a left leg, Amber limped on, occasionally bumping into gravestones in darkness. After several twisting turns, having walked in the wrong direction - she sat down.
“Lumos.”
She had to blink several times as the bright light temporarily blinded her, illuminating the trails her tears and make-up left on her face. Carefully, after she became adjusted to the light, she directed the tip of her wand to the name carved onto the gravestone: Bowen Wells.
He had been rather... annoying, at times, but.... he didn’t deserve to die like that. He was one of the victims of the mirrors... of those men... of me.
With a calm exterior masking the troubled interior, Amber reached into the bag she had brought with her, plucking out many of the crystal roses that had been left for her in the suffocating building that was St. Mungo’s. She directed the wand’s light to them, eyeing resulting coloured glow, before resting her wand on the ground. Gingerly picking one up, she held it above the grave.
With surprising force, she slammed it into the grass before the tombstone. She repeated this movement with each of the roses, as if it was some ancient ritual. Staring at the crystal roses, she picked up her wand.
“Nox.”
Darkness engulfed her.
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