The Mirror and The Sword: Prologue (379 words)
She was being torn apart.
She felt the coldness of the room pierce her skin and sink into ever fiber and bone. She felt her eyes open and saw it. There was the room again, dark, damp, freezing, sucking every scrap of warmth from her, her very will to live.
Beat up chairs were strewn here and there, each splintered and cracked differently. Threadbare tapestries hung from the ceiling, their lingering threads torn free and tickling the air. Broken glass was strewn on the floor like stars spread against the black sea of a twilight-colored flagstones.
Every gasp was a desperate choke, a gulping of air.
Every glittering light was suspicious and deceiving.
Every scent reeked and burned her nostrils.
Every breeze caused her skin to prickle painfully.
She saw the mirror clearly in her mind. Gods, how she hated seeing it, every time. She could hear it speak to her in her mind and soul, in voices that taunted her. Voices that were muffled in her brain as if her ears were stuffed with cotton. Not a single word was clear or true, but the message was clear all the same: there was no escape, this is the end for you.
She felt the comfort of a sword’s grip in her hand, but could not draw it. It was as if every muscle in her body revolted against her mind’s command. No arm, no leg, no twitch of the jaw answered to her mind. Her body was not hers to control, and it was frozen to the spot as her heart pounded and drowned in the fear swelling in her chest.
She felt a fiery pain again, flaring along her back, arm, and abdomen. It was as if a phantom knife had sliced her open easily like gutting a fish. Her hand lifted to her face and she saw the bright crimson-red of blood dripping slowly down to the tips of her fingers. She could smell it. She could taste its coppery essence in her mouth.
This was it.
This was the end.
There was nothing left now, and she felt panic in her soul as her heart fluttered in vain against her chest.
The world pitched and heaved, and she fell forward into darkness, towards nothingness.
She felt the coldness of the room pierce her skin and sink into ever fiber and bone. She felt her eyes open and saw it. There was the room again, dark, damp, freezing, sucking every scrap of warmth from her, her very will to live.
Beat up chairs were strewn here and there, each splintered and cracked differently. Threadbare tapestries hung from the ceiling, their lingering threads torn free and tickling the air. Broken glass was strewn on the floor like stars spread against the black sea of a twilight-colored flagstones.
Every gasp was a desperate choke, a gulping of air.
Every glittering light was suspicious and deceiving.
Every scent reeked and burned her nostrils.
Every breeze caused her skin to prickle painfully.
She saw the mirror clearly in her mind. Gods, how she hated seeing it, every time. She could hear it speak to her in her mind and soul, in voices that taunted her. Voices that were muffled in her brain as if her ears were stuffed with cotton. Not a single word was clear or true, but the message was clear all the same: there was no escape, this is the end for you.
She felt the comfort of a sword’s grip in her hand, but could not draw it. It was as if every muscle in her body revolted against her mind’s command. No arm, no leg, no twitch of the jaw answered to her mind. Her body was not hers to control, and it was frozen to the spot as her heart pounded and drowned in the fear swelling in her chest.
She felt a fiery pain again, flaring along her back, arm, and abdomen. It was as if a phantom knife had sliced her open easily like gutting a fish. Her hand lifted to her face and she saw the bright crimson-red of blood dripping slowly down to the tips of her fingers. She could smell it. She could taste its coppery essence in her mouth.
This was it.
This was the end.
There was nothing left now, and she felt panic in her soul as her heart fluttered in vain against her chest.
The world pitched and heaved, and she fell forward into darkness, towards nothingness.