Protector of the Enchanted

“It’s a mirror, isn’t it?” I can feel a headache forming. “We’re looking for a mirror.”

 

“Seems so.” A casual shrug from my blue-eyed companion has me sighing. Wonderful.

 

“Sure isn’t anything else to find in this mess.” Cylen adds as he ducks to avoid a cobweb hanging from a crack in the ceiling.

 

“But how will we know which one?” Gem trails behind him.

 

We all fall silent at that. It’s been roughly half an hour by my estimates since we entered. There is nothing to find in here but mirrors. No chairs. No paintings or ostentatious suits of armour. Just rooms of mirrors. The question is which is the one we need?

 

“Why don’t we just look for the biggest and creepiest one?” That’s not such a bad idea.

 

Gem gives him a smile, “Hasn’t failed us yet.”

 

“Good idea mate.” Ryan adds in and I nod along.

 

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

It doesn’t take long for us to find it. It’s at the back of the room and covered by a pitch-black sheet that camouflages it into the wall. It practically oozes an ominous aura into the room. There is a sign hanging over it, which echoes all the ones we saw on our way here.

 

“It’s so…Big.’’ Gem voices what is undoubtedly running through all our heads. If this is what we’re looking for, then how are we going to take it out of here? It looks too heavy to just carry around with us.

 

“More importantly,” Cylen clears his throat, “Moving it will definitely move the sheet covering it. So, we’ll inadvertently look into it.” Right. All the warnings.

 

“Maybe it’s not so bad?” My voice sounds unconvincing even to me.

 

“Well, it’s not as if we can just stand around here all day.” I turn towards Ryan, considering.

 

“True.” A pause. “We need to figure out a way to…” A loud screech cuts me off, followed by a loud crash of mirror shattering against a wall.

 

Oh god. What the hell is this? We only looked away for a few minutes! As it turns out, the mirror had been swirling with a red light, which chose that moment to fling a mirror using osmosis. How is that possible, you may ask? Hell, if I know. But, what’s even worse is the other things that now inhabit the room.

 

Immediately, Storm Cleaver is lifted to cut through the ghostly thing now attacking us. Of course, it goes right through. Just wonderful. I narrowly avoid being sliced in half, having only a second to check whether the others are alright. As it turns out, they are. But I have no time to dwell on them as another translucent axe comes swinging at my head. A fight it is then.

 

“At least tell me where we’re going!” The muscular man yells as he struggles to keep up with his free-spirited companion. She was always rushing towards an adventure without ever thinking about the repercussions. He couldn’t count how many times he had went off on a trip with her and ended up with bruises all over his body.

 

“It better not be like last time!” He still hadn’t been able to get the stench of blood out of his nose. Or the sight of the bloodied guts.

 

“It’s not!” She says, starting to walk backwards. “I promise this trip if perfectly safe.”

 

He narrowed his eyes at her grin, “That’s what you said when we went looking for the trolls to bargain for passage.”

 

“Well how was I supposed to know they would take it as an insult? It wasn’t as if we were there to steal from them! Those…” She turns silent for a minute considering, “monsters? No… Those ass-buckets were over-reacting.”

 

“Amara,” He sighs, “Sometimes I really wonder what goes through your mind.” His only answer is a mischievous grin.

 

“We’re going to find my dear cousin a birthday present.” She finally lets him know the objective of their sudden trip after a few more excruciating steps.

 

“Oh.” He says for lack of anything better, “I suppose that is safe.”

 

“You suppose?”

 

“It’s hard to tell when it comes to you.”

 

She throws him a mock glare ruined by the twitching edges of her lips, “Ha ha.”

Now it’s his turn to throw her a grin.

 

When they finally reach the town after walking through the forest that she had, for some reason, decided to reside in, they set to work looking. It was more than likely one of the most tiring things he had ever done. Especially since she took to dragging him to ever sparkly jewel that caught her eye. When asked why it had to have jewel, she replied that nothing else would be fitting.

 

It was a sentiment that he did somewhat agree to, but that did not mean that the routine wasn’t becoming tedious. They were wandering off to another stall when something caught his eye. He stiffened as he caught sight of an ebony dagger hoisted on a wall, the ruby in its hilt casting an ominous light on the silver plates lying underneath.

 

“What’s wrong?” Celeste stops moving and follows his line of sight, “Is there something dubious about that dagger?” She tries to move towards it, but his hand reaches out to stop her.

 

“Not the dagger.” He manages to choke out.

 

“Then what?” She glances over his face, brows furrowing as her hand goes up to check his forehead. “You’re growing paler by the minute.”

 

“I…” He trails off as he feels curious glances burrowing into his back, “I think we should keep moving.” Then seeing her face, “I’ll tell you as we keep looking for a present for Mira.”

 

“The dagger reminded me of a story that I heard recently.” He starts as he palms a gold necklace, with an emerald sitting at its centre. “It stayed in my mind, the story I mean, because it also reminded me of something that happened in my past.” He places the necklace down and moves onto a ring, playing with It on his thumb.

 

Celeste remains silent, knowing that there was no rushing this story. Not with how much it seemed to have affected him. So, she occupies herself by surveying the goods as she waits for him to continue.

 

“I heard that a noble living a few towns over decided to purchase an ebony dagger from a witch living in the woods. One just like the one, ruby in the hilt and all. It is said that he bought it in a desperate attempt to save his family from people who they owed a great deal of money to. He wanted to sell it to them, thinking that the magic contained within it would be a worthy repayment.” His knuckles whiten as his grip on the chain grows tighter. “He was wrong.”

 

“As it turned out the dagger was cursed. When he tried to change ownership, it took control over his mind. It is said that he slashed at the debtors with a vengeance, not caring for any wounds inflicted on him. He stabbed them in the heart multiple times until their bodies grew limp. Then he turned and turned his addled mind to his family, his mouth turned in a feral grin and blood pooling at his feet.” He had to pause at that, his eyes scrunching together as he picked up another ring. Celeste puts a comforting hand on his arms and gives him a sad smile, that sounded horrid.

 

“It is said,” A gulp, “it is said that he took a step towards them and went to strike, only to turn it towards himself at the last minute. His daughter is said to have grown mad from the sight of it. They say that his wife and son tried to shield her but were too petrified to do much. They watched him stab himself several times. None of them have been able to step a foot in that estate since. I hear that they’ve shut themselves inside their manor and have even ceased speaking as well. And do you what the worst part is?” He turns haunted eyes towards her.

 

“What?” She manages to croak out after wetting her lips.

 

“There was not one drop on the dagger when the guards found it.”  He leaves that statement hanging in the air as he lays the ring down and nudges her toward another store.

 

“Not one drop of blood and multiple stab wounds?”

 

His grave expression is all the answer she needs. Really such a peculiar case. And very traumatising for all those involved, she wagered. She’d have to see whether there could be anything done.

 

“I’m sure you’re wondering how this pertains to me.” His eyes were focused solely on the produce in front of him.

 

“I am.” She didn’t deny the truth, “But Captain Spears, that is a story you’ll tell in your own time. I will never force you, or rush you, to reveal something personal. That I promise.”

 

When he looks at her, she can clearly see the tears pooling in his eyes. A small smile tugging at his lips as he whispers his thanks.

 

“I want to tell you,” He breathes, “I trust you, my friend.”

 

A smile flitted on her lips, knowing that meant he felt that safe with her.

 

“My father once made a deal with a witch. He didn’t buy a dagger, but the situations were very similar. There was time where we were in debt, and we could barely scrape by with what little we had. My uncle had swindled all our savings and run far away. So far that we still haven’t found him. The bastard also left his gambling debts on my father’s head.” He pauses, a scowl marring his face, lips pursed in fury.

 

“He thought it was his fault for trusting his brother in the first place.” A slow exhale of breath, sadness etching its way onto his face. His hand absentmindedly brushed over a jewelled chest. “As if all our troubles were his fault. Mother tried to talk some sense into him, but he would not listen. None of us blamed him for it as the bastard had been very convincing in his act. But even so, he blamed himself.”

 

“The deal was that he would work for the witch if she gave him the money he sought. His mistake was not specifying the limitations of what he was willing to do.” Another pause, Cylen gulped, tears pooling in his eyes. “She asked him to kill his first-born child.”

 

“What!” Celeste couldn’t stay silent at that, “What the hell?”

“My thoughts exactly.” He gave her a small smile. “Of course, he refused to do it, but the witch had made him sign a binding contract. Which meant that even if he didn’t want to, he was going to be forced to go through with the term. She used his desperation and guilt as a weapon to trap him into having to kill his first-born child. Saying that it was the only thing of equal value to the money he so desperately sought.”

 

Blank, lifeless eyes turned towards her, trapping her into silence. “He was forced to walk into our home and tell us what he had done and then lift a dagger to kill his child. Except he didn’t. He fought the command and tried to dagger himself instead. Tried. Because just before it hit him, that hag showed up in person and froze him in place.” His face showed the absolute disgust he felt towards the woman.

 

“What happened next is all a blur, I think that I may have blocked it out. All I know is that one minute the hag was holding my father in place and the next my sister was plunging a dagger through her chest. And that, that was what broke the contract. He wasn’t the one who was about to kill her, as she had done it to herself. From my understanding, because she had also placed a time limit on the act, it was null and void. It wouldn’t be able to be completed. Her own spell expelled her from our home.”

 

“Your sister?” Celeste asked, wetting her dry lips. Her voice sounded raspy, even to herself.

 

“She survived.” He stated, some of the light returning to his eyes. “Thank the gods, she survived. But it was so close. One minute later or even a bit to the side and we would have lost her. Gen, her name is Genevieve, didn’t know how to properly use a weapon, and I’ll always be grateful for that. We were poor and my father spent months trying to win back my mother’s trust before she forgave him, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

“But the memory still haunts me. I can still see the blood pouring out of her body as she laid lifeless on the ground. Have had nightmares of her actually dying. That hag’s face sneering down as she comes back and finishes the job she came for. There were days when I couldn’t fall asleep, too afraid she was going to come back and hurt us. Gen’s scar brings it all back, which is why I’m glad that I don’t have to see it anymore. What I remember most is the fear that gripped me. The all-consuming terror that I was about to lose my big sister.”

 

Suddenly, two arms were pulling him towards a feminine frame. She gripped him close and tight, whispering comforting words into his ear as he sobbed into her shoulder. She had moved them out of sight when he had grown too engrossed in his retelling, so no one took notice when his breathing grew faster at every word uttered. When the sobs started to subside, he felt warm hands stroking his back, her comforting smell enveloping him in a calm lull.

 

“It’s alright.” She whispers, “you’re alright. Your sister isn’t going anywhere. You survived.” A breath of relief, “I’m so glad that you did and so are all of your other friends.”

 

She looks him straight in the eyes, expression steeled yet comforting, “No-one will ever hurt you or those you care about like that again, I swear it.” He sniffles, throwing a shaky smile her way. He didn’t doubt her for a second, knowing her too well for that.

 

“Take as long as you need, I can wait.” She states as he tries to compose himself and the tears keep falling.

 

“I think I’m alright now.” He whispers, as he pulls completely out of the embrace. His face a blushing pink, but eyes aglow with life.

 

“Alright.” She nods, “Shall we continue looking for her gift?”

 

He couldn’t agree fast enough.

 

And if Celeste made it a mission to find the witch and make her pay for what she had done? If she made it so the hag would never be able to ask that of anyone again? Well, no-one would have to know. But let all foes know that she took the safety of her friends very seriously.

 

Nothing is working. It turns out these ghost things sting when they touch you and they keep respawning. It’s like fighting a tide of endless water, futile and exhausting. What’s worse is that I can feel my limbs starting to grow sorer by the minute. We cannot go on like this. There must be some way to kill them for real.

 

‘Think Astri. Think.’ I barely get a second to do just that when an axe comes swinging at my head. Storm Cleaver instinctively goes towards it, before I remember myself and take a jump back. Right, the most it can do is split them in two. Might want to commit that to memory.

 

It takes a few more attempts of decapitation before a thought starts to form. My eyes flicker to the ominous mirror in the centre, one I’m only a few steps from, mind swirling. That’s where these things came from. It’s what triggered this nightmare in the first place. It’s also where they keep respawning from. So, what if...What if it’s the solution to the problem as well?

 

Flashing signs and scratched words flick across my mind in rapid succession. I’m guessing it’s the mirror we were told not to look into, but there doesn’t seem like there is anything else we could try. If nothing is done, we will die in here. As morbid as the thought is, there is nothing any of us can do against an incorporeal foe. Better to try something that may kill us than something that most certainly will.

 

There’s no time to be lost. My legs move faster than they ever have as I rush towards the mirror. I choose to duck underneath the cloth, to reduce damage and peer into the glassy, red-hued surface. My image seems distorted somehow. My hand subconsciously reached up to touch it. A zap goes through my body. A surreal experience in that I peer down at it as it falls to the ground, taking the cloth with it.

 

A sting in my hand breaks me from my shock into the realisation that my soul has been split from my physical form. The ghostly beings vanish into smoke. Three surprised heads turn towards me, no longer occupied with fighting. I can see eyes widen in identical looks of horror. The last thing I hear is a muffled curse of my name as I feel myself getting pulled into the mirror.

 

Flashes of light flicker in front of my eyes. A shimmering glow illuminates the dense darkness that I’ve found myself in. I move like a puppet on a string along the path laid out for me. In my peripheral view, I make out small flickers of an image.

 

A small girl curled up in the darkness. Step. A man crying over a dead body. Step. A sword impaling a child as his parents look on. Step. Step. A happy day ruined in an instant, by the ravaging soldiers. Step. Images of lovers, of parents, of friends. Images containing horrible heinous scenes, illustrated in vivid detail. I feel a shiver go down my spine as I try to ignore them.

 

I don’t need to try for much longer. A column of flames manifesting but a few centimetres from my feet makes me rebel against the strings and take a step back. Slowly, the column starts to shrink in height, instead choosing to fan out like an ocean in front of me. The heat causing sweat to bead on my face. Is that even possible if I’m in a mirror?

 

The flames disperse like the red sea before I can think upon the question. Should I keep walking? Apprehension flows through my body, my head glancing back. Well, it doesn’t look like there is any other choice. The only thing behind me is a wall of darkness. That’s worrying. Gulping past the dryness in my throat, I decide to take the risk. I’ve already gotten this far.

 

Surprisingly, the flames aren’t as hot as they would be. At least, I’m not getting any physical burns as I walk through. The flames close behind me, so the only I can go is forward. Which is very worrying, I feel like I should be more worried that I’m basically being forced to do whatever this mirror is telling me. At least, I think it’s the mirror. What else could it be?

 

Absurdity of the situation aside, this is still not an ideal situation in any definition of the word. I have no idea what kind of situation I’ve gotten myself into. A bad habit I really should try to break. As I walk out of the flames, (and isn’t that just absurd), my eyes catch a bright pool of glowing light. The glow is undaunted by the small space in the door.

 

Taking a deep breath, I put a hand on the doorknob and pull. I squint my eyes as the door fades, leaving a river of shimmering light in its wake. I don’t even have a chance to take another step before it starts to surround me, pulling me into its embrace. Flickering scenes made of sand illustrate a story before my eyes.

 

A little girl is standing at her window, watching her father bring in a woman. Her mother has been dead for a few years, but that is of little consequence to her. The woman meets her in her room, speaking in a sickeningly kind tone. She tries to explain the details of their relationships, promising kindness. It doesn’t matter. She hates this woman, who looks so happy standing by her father’s side.

 

The scene fades, as another takes its place.

 

Now, the girl is a little older. She stands in the centre of a ballroom, dancing with the nobles brought in by her father. She grins, loving all the attention that she is receiving. The grin falls as the wench her father insists, she call ‘mother’ steps into the room. Her attention is gone.

 

They all look at her. Praising her to the heavens, as if her every action is a gift from God. “Look at the queen. She’s so beautiful. She is so kind. Can do no wrong.” Blah. Blah. Blah. Such a loathsome creature. She wishes that she would just disappear. However, that’s not something she can openly express, so she’ll just have to stick to the act.

 

What. The. Heck. This girl is absolutely insane. Why would you hate someone who has been nothing but kind to you? There has got to be something screwy with her head.

 

Years go by and now the girl is a woman. Her father falls sick. He spends all his time in bed, accompanied by his wife. The woman rarely visits him, and the times she does are when she wants something. Of his own guilt, he gives into her demands and gives her all that she asks for. The one thing he won’t relent on is that were he to pass, his wife would take the throne.

 

His guilt is not enough to blind him to his daughter’s personality. The kingdom would surely fall apart if she were given the right to rule it. It is his naïve hope that she would mature and let go of her morbid fascinations. He has long given up on trying to get her to get along with his wife. Her act doesn’t fool him, a father knows.

 

A tinge of sadness goes through me as I watch it happen. I have a feeling that his hopes aren’t going to come to fruition. And my instincts haven’t led me wrong yet.

 

A deal with a witch. Running away into the forest. A trinket exchanged for poison, sending a kind queen into endless slumber. She meets seven men in the forest and somehow convinces them to follow her lead. Enticing them with promise of riches and other pleasures. The men nod along, but even they see the rot inside her chest. Even they can see that the woman is made of hate and greed.

 

Alas, nothing can be done. Murdering a royal is a felony and they figure they can always kill her later. That’s a thought that comes back to bite them in the future. A message delivered. A quest taken. Heartless actions as she takes the coward’s route. No remorse. Only twisted glee.

 

Numb. I feel so numb. My eyes blankly watch as the men regret their actions, but the woman laughs at her stepmother’s fate. A familiar golden mirror placed in front of her. She sits in the throne as if she thinks that fear is a proper way to rule. A strange satisfaction spreads through me as her body is sucked into the mirror, leaving dust in the wake.

 

It is a bit iffy that the men got turned into mirrors, but it’s a fitting fate all things considered. Being a bystander and condoning evil is as good as committing the evil yourself. At least, as far as I can tell, their fate is less gruesome than hers. The woman was batshit insane.

 

Suddenly, the light grows murkier, slowly turning into a dark red hue. My body feels like it’s being covered in cement, tendrils of red curling around me. They cover up to my neck keeping me in place. Squirming in its hold does nothing but make the confines tighter. Stuck. I’m stuck. Left vulnerable out in the open. A sharp sting spreads throw me as a tendril touches my head.

 

The room is covered in black. Glass shards cover the ground. Liquor stacked up high on the walls, and some covering the ground. Despite the jarring difference, the situation is not unfamiliar. A cold sense of dread goes through me as I recognise the space. No. No…No…No! This can’t be happening!

 

I can do nothing as the door starts to open a little. A small nine-year-old girl is shoved through, making her tumble to the ground, only narrowly missing the shards on the ground. A paralysing fear starts to take over me as I feel myself grow number. She groans in pain, hands going to her head as her hair is gripped and used to drag her back to her feet. She is pushed against the wall, uncaring how much it hurts her.

 

My tongue feels like lead in my mouth. This is a living nightmare. The man easily takes both of her small arms in his hand, pinning them at the base of her back, the other still gripping her hair in a vice grip. He leans down and whispers into her ear. They aren’t audible but I hear them anyway. “Behave yourself, don’t cause trouble. Or else.” They’re the same ones that have haunted me for so long.

 

He lets go of her hair, tying her to the chain on the wall like one does a dog. He then moves to the corner to pick up a stick. Against all my attempts, my eyes just won’t close. Nausea builds up inside me, my heart becoming heavier by the moment. I can do nothing as he takes the stick and hits her feet. And then her hands. The hits growing stronger if she struggles. I don’t want to see this.

 

Forced as I am, I see it replay in front of me anyways. I feel like I’m stuck in hell, being forced to remember things that I’d rather forget. Then, the scene changes and another memory starts to play out, one just as morbid as the old. The sudden change is what breaks me from the cocoon of numbness.

 

There’s something wrong. These memories didn’t go like this. Yes, those people were cruel and downright awful, but not like this. I force my brain to think through all the panic bubbling up inside me. Running through what I learnt in therapy, to remain focussed. They’re acting more unhinged. And with that thought, a theory starts to form.

 

Maybe the princess’s insanity somehow shifted to the mirror’s magic. It’s very farfetched, but I did see her get sucked into it. That much malice must have had some effect on it. As I go through this vein of thought, an earlier thought also comes back to me. It’s like I’m in a nightmare. What if…

 

What if what made those people so afraid to look into a mirror was just that? What if they were forced to watch every trauma in their life play out in front of them? It would certainly be enough to make anyone go insane. Especially, since the magic in this world creates a whole host of other things that could cause it. Probably wouldn’t be mild either.

 

With it being amplified by insanity meant that they were trapped in it and couldn’t see the inconsistencies in the memories. The only reason I can is because I’ve slowly been giving myself therapy for them, slowly reducing their effect. There are still hard times, but I can still tune them out enough to think.

 

That leaves the question of how to get out of this situation. Knowing what’s happening helps to make me focus, but it doesn’t really show me how to get out of here. My muscles relax as I blank out the images in front of me. They aren’t real and can’t hurt me. The images get more aggressive as I do.

 

“This isn’t even real.” I feel myself mutter, “This isn’t how it went.” I shake my head. Wait…My eyes widen. The red suddenly disperses. My limbs released so fast that I almost stumble to the ground. My arms flap beside me in circles, as I try to maintain balance. I don’t really want to fall flat on my face.

 

What just happened? My confusion only grows as I see that I’m in the middle of a room, with an open casket in the centre. What is that doing here? Oh… My eyes widen as I recognise the woman lying there. The poisoned stepmother.

 

Her body is encircled in a weird red rope. A dagger placed at her side, its ebony handle glaring at me like a red stop sign. That doesn’t seem good. Acting out of instinct alone, I feel myself call upon my magic, a tendril of light instantly turning the dagger to dust. Then, my hands go up to hover over the body. Heal, I will the magic. Take the red away, let her wake up.

 

“Give her what she needs.” I whisper, letting the light cover her from head to toe, eyes opening just in time to watch as the red dissipates. “You did nothing wrong. You didn’t deserve this.” Thinking about how she got here makes a pang of sympathy course through me.

 

She doesn’t wake up, making my eyes furrow. Why....Wait. Of course! A small grin pulls at my lips as it all becomes clear. Truth. The mirror focuses on truth. And what better way to find that then by focusing on the darkest parts of someone? It just got a little…twisted…by evil intentions.

 

“Let the world know your truth.” The words are super cheesy but feel right in the moment. Just as they leave my mouth, her body starts to glow, taking up a translucent shine. Her eyes open, revealing emerald-green orbs, a soft glow surrounding them.

 

She blinks before facing me, her eyes widening. In an instant she bends into a low bow. “Thank you.” She whispers as she straightens herself. “I have been waiting for you.” A soft smile goes over her lips, clashing with the sorrow in her eyes. “It has been so long. I feared it would never end.”

 

“I’m sorry it happened to you.” I really am. “You didn’t deserve that. I promise that you won’t have to go through that again in any other life if I have something to do with it.” What am I saying? “You’re free now. Be at peace.” It’s like my mouth has a mind of its own.

 

Tears glimmer in her eyes. Can ghosts even cry? She bows low, her head almost touching the ground, before looking at me. I give her a small smile. She returns it before fading into an array of sparkles. I only have a moment to take it in, before a force propels me back.

 

“Thump!” The pain I was expecting didn’t come. Instead, I suffer whiplash as I find myself back in a physical body. Without taking the time to acknowledge the relief coursing through me, I quickly turn to my side, quickly grabbing the miniaturised mirror. I wrap it up in a rag before placing it in a pocket at my waist.

 

I don’t know whether it can still do that dragging in thing, but I’m not about to take the risk. Three sets of footsteps make me take notice of the room once again. The ghosts are gone. Success! The place somehow seems brighter.

 

“What did you do?”

 

“How could you do that to us?”

 

“Why are you always so reckless?”

 

I barely have time to register their words before my face is being grabbed by callused hands and sapphire eyes look me over for injuries. His hands gently poke at me, making a strange lightness fill my heart. A grin spreads over my face, which makes an annoyed expression cross Gem’s face.

 

“Why are you smiling? Do you understand what you just put us through! I was so worried! And I could do absolutely do nothing!”

 

Cylen puts a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Please never do that again.”

 

“Agreed.” Ryan mutters, his eyes not leaving mine.

 

I lick my lips, “No promises.” I whisper.

 

“What…” I don’t give her a chance to finish.

 

“Now someone…Please catch me.” And with that I let my body get the rest it so desperately yearns for.

 

A red cloak billows in the wind as the woman stands on the branch. She holds a viewing orb in one hand, her eyes seething at the sight. What in hell’s name! What is this? How can this be happening! The orb cracks in her hand as her rage flows into her body language.

 

It was all going so perfectly! Those fools were falling for her traps. The only people in her way had been gotten rid of. She had made sure that the traps were laid out in front of them. Everything had been going to plan, chaos and darkness were taking their rightful place. So how could this happen!

 

All that was left of the palace was rubble! Another one fallen to the ground! The kingdom by the sea was gone, then the sea witch’s cave, and now this! One after the other all the players in the game were being taken out. How could humanities selfishness be exploited if they were all dying!

 

Not only that! They were all falling apart. The more she saw, the more the confusion grew, and with it the rage. In a fit, she threw the orb at the nearest tree, not caring as it shattered into pieces on the ground. The head of the cloak fell back as she frantically grasped at her hair.

 

Madness! How could it all dissipate so easily. Vengeance was not so easily wrought and not so fast. Especially without anyone being alerted to the perpetrator! That’s what made it all the more maddening, she couldn’t figure out who was responsible!

 

Well, whoever it was, they would pay! Her hair was now a mess. Mud caking the bottom of her cloak. She seethed in silence for only a moment before turning skyward and letting out a shrill shriek. And as she let her frustration grow, she didn’t notice the amused cackles being carried as a whisper through the wind.