The rain hurt. It might as well have been hail, winds sweeping across the dead gardens of Allar.
He might have well have lost his legs, unable to move, trembling and wet. But the rains hid his tears, and his trembling could have been blamed on the chill.
Bastard. Killer. False Hope.
The words struck him like a clawed bast.
Ignorant. Stupid. A Curse.
He shivered, sniffing back the suffocating snot until he was hiccuping so hard, it hurt. It always did. He couldn't help himself as he hugged his arms around him, hugged his arms around it, the pathetic book so worn from use that pages were falling out, and the leather binding was near as thin as it's pages.
At least most of the blood had gone, the gash on his head thinning as it clotted with time, on it's own. Even the blood from his nose finally subsided, it staining him lightly, from where his hunched body shielded it's run off from the rain.
How....? How had it all happened? How... could this curse have followed for so long? How could it know, from what blood his father had bled and his mother..
He winced, not wanting to think about it and lowered his head to sulk. But it was starting to hurt to cry, his head was pounding and each rumble of thunder made him jump.
And then he saw it.. something strange and misted in the rain. It glowed eerily, like the hummed lights safe behind windows in a storm.
He didn't want to move.. but his feet were moving, so worn through toes were nearly poking out of them, and mud easily soaked him to the bone.
The temperature was forgotten, his breath coming out in long streams of white that were snuffed out by the winds and the ever falling rain. He wasn't sure what it was he was looking for, or why he even remained here. He should have been dead. He, of all creatures, never should have survived the war.
He used the back of his forearm to wipe back chapping tears and tickling rain, but his eyes were already too puffy to tell. And when he stepped on it, he couldn't have known how the creature had him tricked; for the tinkling crack beneath him had him looking down- right into the hallows, right past time- It had him looking down, swept up into a dark magic...
Never to look back again.
His vision cut, and he slipped himself, tripping as he caught an arm against a lamp, now lamed as whatever rains followed him from the past came howling out and doused the oils. He could smell it though, the fresh scent of the smokes rising up from the dieing flame. And his hand burned, and he yanked it back, realizing the tingling pricks were from the waxen oils now drying to his burned skin. He winced, nursing his hand and blinking back tears.
And then he lifted his gaze to witness his world had changed. For he was no longer out there, in the wreckage.. the place of the damned. But he was inside.. somewhere.. and it was grand.
He heard footprints, echoing throughout the chamber and he stepped away, tucking low tot he shadows untilt he voices stopped and were away. Somewhere had been there, they'd say. Check over here. It can not ruin the day. The guests are already here.
He was dizzy, still trembling and wet yet inside.. there was no more rain. Too bad he was already soaked to the bone. His eyes followed around him, whenever he was left alone, and he paused a moment to draw in a sudden breath of surprise.
"The Hall of Mirrors." He nearly fell into one, fingers brushing against the polished edges, the perfectly shaped massive frames until he was on the floor with no strength to keep him, and shivering, breathing in heavy, great gulps.
"No.... It... It can't be..."
It must've been a dream. This place was dead to the world. It had never been in his. Ever since he was old enough to remember.. well, anything, he knew the haunting tales about the Hall of Mirrors, and the curse behind it...
and what tales had surmounted long after the years of his father's death.
He never knew the man, just in tales. They were of wonder, fear... and he knew not how to digest it. A man so grand, so powerful, yet feared by so many... The Grand Duke who single handedly nearly wiped out the entire population of mages in just over a decade.... A man who lead to the poverty stricken life ont he road... The sickness, the dizziness... and the forebode.
The Hall of Mirrors. He swallowed hard and finally turned to the one nearest himself- but what he saw made his heart sink and his blood chill....
For despite looking deep into the mirror pane....
It was empty.. nothing reached back- even as he touched a wet had to it's surface. And for it....
The young man screamed.
