Hall of Mirrors

There was a light twittering noise coming from the windowsill. It whistled, it sputtered, it spat and it screamed. But the noises never grew louder by the slightest level. The volume remained kept and under control while a violent wind roared outside. The window had been closed so surely the wind wasn’t causing this noise. In perfect view, the noise was coming from a glowing violet orb floating above an elegant crystal blue vase. The colors swirled and mixed with each noise in response. It was at the twittering phases when the orb glowed with blinding light that spread and touched all the shadows in the cold stone-like castle.

This caught the attention of the occupant of this cold, lonely castle. He ignored the noises at first but the light was great and the violet rays had spread into the darkest chambers. Swiftly he draped over his robes and hurried downstairs where the object sat. He stood before it and squinted at the intense glows that he had to shield his eyes. With a wave of his hand, the lights dimmed and a cloud of smoke encircled him. He inhaled deeply and his eyesight focused.

The smoke wisped and evanesced with each trail it led. Slowly it turned red to the shades of blood and finally into ebony. Something ripped into his chest, through his heart and it was cold. He fell to his knees, coughing black liquid through his fingers. He feared that worse had come and he rose his head and stared directly into the orb.

“Show me,” he snarled quietly.
The orb obeyed at these words and the violet turned into a pale pink. The orb expanded into a size of a great mirror, gold bordering and scarlet draping the edges. Into the glass was a fluid substance that washed over. He saw through the hillsides, the plains, the villages and it stopped in front of a huge castle. It shone with many colors and the rain trampled on its furnish. It floated before the door. He stood up and moved his arm, his hand pushing the invisible barrier. The sight continued into a scattered party and nothing caught him until he saw it. There was red everywhere. They were like rose petals they were clinging in colonies, shining in reflections of the chandelier. It multiplied before his eyes as the mirror led him through the costumed dancers.

He caught sight of the headless corpses. Their blood continued to trickle with drops and gushes out of their necks. Their clothes consisted of the brightest jewels and medals. He was perplexed as to why he was being shown this until…

There she lay, lifeless and her eyes hung low. Her pupils were pale as a dove and her skin the purest of snow. Upon her left breast, her eyes and her scar were the kisses of death. Darkest ebony bled from her and her rose pink hair was absorbing it. He dropped to his knees again, but he was before Miraye’s body. He towered over her corpse and wrapped his arms around her. Gently he kissed her lips and tasted the blood that lingered on her. His heart wailed and tears began to form in the corners of his eyes. He buried his head into her neck and sobbed, rocking her in hopes of she to awaken. Her skin graced his in return and everything around him began to shatter.

He blinked and he was back in the lonely stone castle. His tears ran red just like the blood that once ran in her. He looked up at the mirror again and the vision had blurred and faded out. For moments he stared, choking back his wails when the mirror flashed again. It focused on a pair of violet eyes who were experiencing the same physical pain. It was the Sink boy. He was on his knees and was only surrounded by silence.

Seryale waved his hand over the mirror and it turned back into the floating orb.
“So be it,” he said and stood up, staring out the window. “So be it, indeed.”