For hours I kept chanting - weaving time and space into a most intricate pattern - linking two worlds together and starting the construction of a gate between them.
And then that final tragedy struck. The sound of horses galloping into the glen. The pounding on the door, screams and shouts to open. Desperately, I sought to finalize the ritual as the crown prince himself climbed in through the window, sword in hand, eyes full of courage and wrath. I attempted to divert some small amount of power to form whatever makeshift barrier I could but it was far too late. He struck me with the flat of his blade, sending me careening to the floor as he stepped into the circle – breaking my carefully woven and inscribed formula – and dragged That Thing Which Inhabits out of the temple as the ritual collapsed into a chaotic end. I took the brunt of the backlash. I will never forget that blinding lightning, that thunderous noise, and that anguished pain as the energies I’d wielded ran out of control. I lost much of myself that evening, memories of my early childhood, most of the feeling on the right side of my face, parts of my soul permanently damaged, and any hope of saving my sister was gone from me. We had been so close. Yet as the guards of my own house pulled me away from that crumbling chamber all I could do was scream, tears streaming down my face. I had failed her.
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The aftermath of that dark day should have been dreadful but all I could feel was numbness. As they brought me back to Castiel Manor, what followed was my fall from grace and status. My parents were horrified by my actions and continued to be so as the rest of my crimes were discovered. The kidnapping of my supposed sister. The poisoning of her and the guards. Pursuit of forbidden magic. Pursuit of heretical knowledge. Theft of alchemical drugs and theft of a rare and restricted text. I tried to tell them my reasons - not truly to convince them – I merely felt dead inside. I no longer cared what they thought of me. And in the end they only thought me mad. I do not know what strings my father pulled at the Academy but I faced no charges from them. I was merely expelled to the great shame of my family. The crimes I had committed within my father’s domain were his to prosecute and so I faced no charges for those either. Instead I was confined to my room in a house arrest with no set end. My parents sent me doctors to prod and poke at me, in the vain hope that they would find a way to return me to what they perceived as sanity. If only I could.
In the first few days of my confinement, Carmen came by. A small hope I did not know that I still possessed flared up for a moment – only to be immediately crushed. She tried to convince me of the righteousness of her actions and I realized she had betrayed me. That day of the ritual, far from leading the prince and the guards astray her heart had faltered and she had led them right to me. The guilt was written on her face. I thought I could no longer feel but this still stung. I had lost my only confidant. But worse still, while her initial betrayal must have been a matter of misplaced conscience, a doubt towards the true nature of the creature we were exorcising, and ultimately a lack of trust in me, in the days after her betrayal That Thing Which Inhabits must have come for her. She spoke of That Thing Which Inhabits with genuine sympathy. She expressed the virtues of that thing that had impersonated my sister, stressed the righteousness of her character. Like all others around me Carmen – my sole friend and companion – had been bewitched by her. And with this the victory of That Thing Which Inhabits was absolute. As the wedding bell rang and the kingdom celebrated, the church declared her a living saintess, a blessed gift sent from the heavens. The country was hers to do with as she wished.
My house arrest stretched on for endless days. The servants that came by grew thinner over the coming weeks and months, until only a handful of somber and quiet individuals remained. They spoke little with me, avoiding meeting my eyes except to give me looks of pity. A few rumors still trickle into my now closed world. I had been left here as the ’Madwoman of the Saintess’, her fallen sister. I heard little else of the outside, mere whispers of building chaos. Subtle clues in the harried looks of my once servants – now captors – hinted at the building calamity. I cared not for it. It was no longer within my reach to hinder.
Regularly That Thing Which Inhabits came to visit, pleading with me to recant the truth I had learned about her, to join her, still seeking to bewitch me. Her failure to subjugate me in this manner must have disturbed her greatly because she never ceased her visitations. It made sense as she had won the hearts of all others to come into her path. Yet I steadfastly refused, mocking the very thought she were my sister. I thought I could see the fear on her face, even now, even with her victory complete. But I might have been mistaken, perhaps it was some other unnamed emotion, an expression of worry, or of sadness. And whatever little satisfaction my continued defiance afforded me it could not redeem me for my own failures. Only an increasing despair ate away at my heart and my world. Had it not been for that remaining sliver of defiance I might have lost myself entirely – fashioned a small rope of what was available within my room – or sharpened the letter knife, or some other terrible thing. Instead I only fell deeper into that all-consuming grayness. And then it grew too large. One morning it was as if a small candle had been lit. I went near immediately from my months of most lethargic apathy to one of frenzied activity. I would not end myself while that Thing Which Inhabits still lived, but I could no longer remain here. I needed to escape.
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The summer had long since fallen into autumn and autumn had just begun to fade into winter. As I sat at my window and gazed out at the falling snow I plotted my escape. The cold always seeped into the manor at this time of year and so I had plenty of warm clothes and blankets I could bring with me, and while I had not used them for months I had my shoes as well. As no one sat with me while I ate it would be a simple matter to save up rations for a day or two and while the door was locked I was only on the third floor. I should be able to escape through the window. Once I reached the neighboring domain I could ask for refuge if necessary, though if possible I’d rather keep running. Once I was far enough away that no one would know of me I could only pray that I would find some employment through my literacy and the modest education I still possessed from my good upbringing. The alternative was too dreadful to think about.
It took me a few nights to make my preparations but then I finally stashed what little I needed in a knapsack, fashioned a makeshift rope out of my bed sheets, opened a window and slipped out. The height seemed so much larger than when standing on the ground outside, but I gritted my teeth and set to climb down. I carefully clung to that rope until I was only a few meters above the ground. I dropped the last distance, slipping and falling onto my back but the snow helped dampen the fall. I stood up, gazing at the dark garden, my heart beating fast. It was an odd sensation to be outside for the first time in months but I could hardly relax. I could be discovered at any moment. I made my way to the stable and retrieved my horse, patting him on the back and feeding him a few cubes of sugar I’d stashed away for just this occasion. It was good to see him again. I saddled him and started to lead him out of the stable when disaster struck. The doors swung open and That Thing Which Inhabits stood in the doorway with an expression of absolute surprise. She wore her riding clothes. To this day I know not of what clandestine nightly expedition she intended to set out on and I care little to speculate. With no hesitation I swung into my saddle and set my horse to run. She threw herself to the side as I rode past her and barreled down toward the forest. She screamed my name as I ran but I gave her no thought. I felt the wind on my face for the first time in months and joy welled up inside of me. The snow lay heavy on the ground amidst the pine trees. The moon was young. I made my way deeper, only vaguely knowing where I was going, driven on by my need to get away. I moved steadily through the forest not at an all-out gallop but as quickly as I dared to press my horse.
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My ears tensed as I sought out any sign of pursuers. It took some time but as I rode on towards the edge of our territory I thought to perceive behind me a faint light in the darkness. Soon it grew to clear torchlight and I knew the manor guards were after me. I hurried on my horse, trying to gain what distance I could. As the lights grew stronger the terrain grew treacherous, uneven. Finally I had reached that hill-strewn precipice that marked our territory's southeast border. Forced to abandon my horse I gave him a last hug and a pat, knowing he would easily find his way back to the manor. The poor thing looked exhausted but he gave me a friendly nudge as if he could sense my worries. I set out to make my way up the hillside. It was good we were only in the early weeks of winter or the snow would have laid far too heavy. As it was I still sank down to my knees as I struggled to make way. As snow and stones hindered my path I could hear the shouts of my pursuers. They must have found my horse. I ran through the snow, my lungs burning with the cold winter air. The barking of frenzied dogs and the shouts of angry guards could be heard from a distance. But finally I reached the top, standing on top of a large cliff, looking down across our neighboring lord's country. If I could make my way down that cliff I doubt my pursuers would dare to follow. I would be free. But no, this was not to be. As I crested the cliff and tried to make my way to the side the heavy snow betrayed me, my footing breaking apart and sending me careening off the edge. Desperately grasping I found no grip on anything but the cold snow as I fell. For a moment I hoped to hit the soft snow - to survive the fall - but then I merely closed my eyes and accepted my end.
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And that brings us to the current day. I did not die that day. I woke up in a strange and alien place. As I regained consciousness, I felt a surface like damp and uneven stone. That dampness felt odd to me as it was supposed to be winter. My eyes fluttered open and an unfamiliar place greeted me. It was evening, and it must have rained recently because the ground was still wet. I laid in the middle of a road - a road of such a construction I had never seen. I could hear a loud noise I did not recognize moving away from me at speed and as I attempted to stand a pain shot through me and I fell back onto the ground. I must have broken my leg. Clutching it while groaning I took a deep breath and once more looked around me. There were buildings along the road in a strange and dismal architecture, featureless fronts and barely a garden fit for a commoner. As I peered down the road, a city stretched out before me but a city like no other I had ever seen. Thousands of lights shone steadfast in the dark night, like a sea of fallen stars. I could run no further. Around me people gathered dressed in the most ridiculous of clothes, skin tight and thin textiles with oddly bright patterns across their chests. I found that I could pick out those patterns and even comprehend the words they spelled out. One of the people surrounding me pressed something to his ear and spoke loudly and as I listened I found I was starting to understand the language he spoke. Unfamiliar and unwanted knowledge started to press into my mind – flashes of a past that was not mine. I desperately suppressed the thoughts, pushing them back down into some unseen subconscious sea deep within myself as my heart started to beat with an unnameable fear. One of the people sat with me and while I could only partially understand his words I understood that they were calling for help, that I had been hit by something, something that had quickly fled the scene. In just a few moments a large vehicle flashing esoteric lights in an impossible blue color arrived on the scene. The occupants wearing yellow colored clothes made of unknown materials exited the vehicle and helped load me into it. As they laid me down on some internal bed within that vehicle I found the word I had been looking for – mirror – and one of the people attending me handed me one. She told me not to worry, that my face was fine. But it was not my face. A strange young woman I had never seen before stared back at me. I had become the same as that shadow of my sister, I had become A Thing Which Inhabits. My scream cut through the night. For some time afterward I was bereft of my rationality.
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They sent me – understandable considering the circumstances, though tragic in an ironic fashion – to their madhouse. Yet it is not bad here. I have more space than during my house arrest. I am allowed to go outside regularly, though mostly to the internal courtyard. The sun is still nice. The servants here are kind. There is pity, but there is also sympathy. And I no longer need to meet with that Thing Which Inhabits. This must have been her world. Not some strange and alien creature then – a human – albeit a malicious and uncaring sort, bent on amassing power, fueled by dark ambitions, manipulative and ruthless. But that is past me now, and what happens to her, and with the world that so readily accepted her, is no longer my concern.
I am allowed small luxuries. I have quite taken to painting. Though my subjects are oft gloomy and overly abstract I find some measure of peace within the act. It helps me set my mind at ease. They also give me generous access to books on an impressive variety of subjects. A necessity as I keep the memories of this poor girl which I've come to inhabit suppressed as best as I am able. Flashes of her former life still intrudes upon me, in particular in the deep night as I sleep. At first I refused to sleep as a result of this, but over time I've managed to suppress it enough I can now sleep mostly undisturbed. I’ve refused to impersonate her, to lie to her supposed family and in response her family has estranged me, much like my own did. I do not know the exact context, but the few interactions I had with her relatives have been grievously negative. They appear not only impoverished, but quite crude and aggressive. I have to admit that I myself was not in the best state of mind when I first met them, and we quickly came to words with each other. It seems that the poor girl - whose name I have refused to claim as my own - ran from her home much as I did mine, and it was then she met her own calamity, as I did mine. But it is good that their daughter is dead to them - though I suspect she might have come to inhabit my real body. If we match in so many other ways, why not in this? I pray for her, though only because I can do nothing else. Even if the odds are against her, I pray she finds her way.
I have not looked much into returning to my own body, and indeed I do not know how. Magic here seems scarce and the few experiment's I've done in those directions have so far met with failure. I still can feel the energy of my soul, but only faintly, and most of it around those wounds I still carry with me. Instead the doctor I regularly speak with has encouraged my small hobbies, helped bring me both paints and books, encouraged my studies, and recently even encouraged me to write, therefore this very journal. They do not believe my story, but they also do not hold me in contempt. It has meant quite a lot to me, more than I thought it would.
No, this is by far not the worst place to be.
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Some time after I finished the above writings an incident occurred. I was supposed to visit my doctor for one of our regular conversations but was asked to wait outside. A large argument of some kind unfolded itself, I could not hear the words but I could hear the voices. A stern and sharp tone from one end, and the frustrated voice of my doctor from the other. After some time I was asked to return to the common area. I stayed there for a while – idly switching between painting and skimming through a small text on mathematical puzzles I’d recently obtained, not truly managing to concentrate on either activity – and then a nurse brought me a visitor. A woman I'd never seen before. She was short of stature and had her hair cut neatly to the point it only reached just above her shoulders. A fair face, slightly older than me. She looked at me with a familiar gaze, and she had a proud bearing in her movements that were at odds with her commoner appearance. We only spoke briefly, but I knew her well. She told me about her life here. She has found work in some administrative capacity within one of the businesses in the region. She tells me she has worked with them for a little over a year now. This income afforded her a small apartment not too far from the central parts of the city. She has invited me to live with her and I have accepted. With my condition considered stable enough for me to function outside of this institution - and with a stable place for me to live in secured - I will be checked out of this place by the end of the weekend.
For the first time in well over a year – in a strange and alien world that I have never known – still, I will be at home.