Flashes of light burst proudly into a dark room before rapidly fading away. Rain thunderously slams itself against the windows, unceasing in vigor or rage. The cobblestone streets below the windows were empty as denizens hid themselves away from the storm’s onslaught. Only the brief natural lights could guide any soul daring to traverse under nature’s fury—the streetlamps silent. Within the dark room, above the flooded streets, in a humble abode whose age showed, a single chair furnished it. Sitting upon the poor chair, devoid of any comfort, was a motionless young woman.
If it wasn’t for the occasional gentle rise and fall of her chest, her eyes occasionally blinking, and the faint motions of her hands, she would’ve been mistaken for a doll. Just like a priceless doll, she sat quietly listening to the downpour. Her thoughts contrasted her silence as her mind raced. Within the chaotic mixture of thoughts and feelings, a common theme was apparent: where was she? Not too long ago, she was reclining on her soft comfy chair while glancing at a digital screen. Her fingers were just tapping rhythmically away. Yet, now, she’s in an unfamiliar dark room void of any furniture or item. There was no light nor switch she could see. The clothing she wore were definitely different—minutes ago she was wearing pajamas and certainly not Victorian-like.
Grasping the rickety arms of the chair firmly, the woman got up on uneasy feet. The chair groaned and squeaked, protesting against the sudden action. Ignoring the protest, the woman cautiously took several steps towards the sole window of the room. She took a quick glance behind her, making sure the door was still closed. Her eyes focused onto the streets below and the buildings after confirming her safety. As far as she could see and determine, the buildings were primarily made out of wood and stone—they were certainly nothing like the style she was used to.
The woman bit her lips, increasingly nervous. Quickly, the woman spun around and faced the still closed door. As much as she wanted to open the window and escape, the height deterred her. There was no way she could guarantee her safety from dropping down at such a height nor navigating an unknown neighborhood in a ferocious storm. As much as she hated it, the only option she had was to investigate the rest of the building.
The door creaked as the woman opened the door. She could just barely look into the dark hallway. She could feel her heartbeat and the twitching of her hands. There was a pause as the woman steeled herself, attempting to find confidence. Her ears were alert for any sudden movement or sound not related to the storm. Then, she stepped into the hallway with her boots making distinct sounds upon the flooring. Her hand reached out towards the opposing door facing her. There was another room. The dark staircase didn’t look particularly welcoming. With a weak grasp on the cool metal handle, the woman opened the door.
The lighting in the new room was far worse than the previous one. Yet, something quickly caught her eyes—a lantern resting upon a desk. Quickly, the woman snatched the lantern and felt along its casing. A knob. A click. Soon, soft warm light filled her surrounding, banishing the darkness. Closing the door behind her, the woman observed the new room in its glory. Towering bookcases, higher than her, surrounded her from all sides. There was a cracked window above the well-made desk. Taking a quick glance at her clothing and hands, the woman paused before she stepped fully in front of the mirror.
If it wasn’t for her anxious state, the constant shaking of her hands, the rapid breathing, the woman would’ve spent a moment admiring herself. However, there was only shock and confusion. A rush of cold flowed through her body. The woman in the mirror was certainly not who she was. Soft gray hair, a youthful fair face, and bright blue eyes. There was a stranger in the mirror, yet she knew that the stranger was herself. Deep breathes. The woman slowly took measured breathes trying to calm herself. As much as she wanted to act out, she managed to hold herself back. It would not do her any good to act like a beast at this moment.
Minutes passed as the woman weighed her actions, her eyes closed. Her heartbeat began to slowly return to a steady normal rate, yet there was still uneasiness. Carefully, the woman glanced at the parchment that laid upon the desk. Perhaps she could figure something out regarding her situation. Thankfully the words printed on the paper were familiar to her, rather than some unknown language. At least that hinted wherever she was still spoke the same language or at least had a similar writing system. Yet, where the parchment was supposed to enlighten her, they only confused her. It was like reading about fantasy with the constant reference to magic and summoning. Whatever it was, it was for sure not the writings of a kidnapper.
The parchment fell down on the desk as the woman glanced around the room, hoping for some clues. She ran through the various books, trying to find some relevant information—there was none. The private small library concentrated itself, weirdly, solely on the idea of summoning. Perhaps she was in a building that belonged to a deranged lunatic, she pondered briefly. Returning back to the desk, the woman began to open the various drawers, hoping for some idea. Any idea.
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A small pouch of coins from some unknown currency was one of her rewards. A knife was another, which she kept close to her graciously. There were several more parchments, all of them filled with random symbols and references. Finally, a wooden stick finished off her investigations. Holding it, the woman glanced at the parchment on the desk and focused on the word “magic.” Just perhaps? The stick was very plain and could had easily served as part of a pair of chopsticks. There was nothing remarkable about it, yet something within her told her the importance of it. Perhaps fear was winning and this is just an initial sign of a mental breakdown.
Time seemed to freeze for a brief moment as the woman continued to observe the plain stick. Something from the depths of her mind called out to her, yet it was vague and uncoordinated. Her muscles tensed as her mind began to race. Biting her lips, the woman both understood the calling from the void, but at the same time did not. What magical words was she suppose to mutter? What ritual was she suppose to perform? Then something struck her. Summoning. The word was so prevalent in everything within this room. She focused on the empty space before her. Summoning. The word began to corrupt her thoughts, dominating them. Magic and summoning.
The vast gate of uncertainty groaned within the depths of her mind. It was like a sudden flood—a torrent of light. Despite having a lack of experience regarding magic, she knew what had to be done within an instant. An unfamiliar memory rushed through her mind akin to an unrelenting tidal wave. Just like the creation of the universe, there was a sudden rush of energy. Sweat trickled down the woman’s forehead as she concentrated. The light within her dissipated as quickly as it appeared. It was like eternity whereas it was only for a matter of seconds.
The air in front of the woman distorted, seemingly to ripple with energy. It was like a hungry maw. A shape, a humanoid shape, began to take form. Displaced air rushed past her. Shielding her eyes with her right arm instinctively, the woman took a quick peak. Then she gasped as she took several steps backwards, bumping into the desk. Her right arm struck out, frantically grasping at the hilt of the knife. Her breathing was audible with her legs shaking. Without much consideration, she just went and summoned something. She didn’t even consider if what she was summoning was benevolent or malevolent.
A deafening silence reigned supreme within the room as the woman watched nervously. The summoned being, a man in plain clothing, stood despondently. There was something wrong with the man that the woman couldn’t help but feel, yet she could feel some sense of connection. Were they perhaps blood-related? At this point, she knew very little about the woman that she currently possesses. Then there was a rush of energy that pulsed throughout her body, lighting up her nervous system. Pain. Two words. Still holding the handle of the knife with her right hand, the woman held her forehead with her left. For a brief moment, she lapsed from consciousness, panting heavily. Cecelia Inedita. Her name—the woman’s name.
Weekly, Cecelia glanced up at the man. There was still no movement, not even a single inch. The only indication of the man still being alive was the rise and fall of his chest. Not even when she was barely able to maintain her awareness, the man didn’t even bother to react. There was nothing normal regarding the man. Blankness resided within the man’s unfocused eyes.
Shuffling against the walls, Cecelia reached for the door. Grasping the handle, she quickly glanced at the man standing in the middle of the room. He was tracking her, his head moving with unnatural smoothness. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t measured. Cecelia paused, focusing on his eyes. The brown eyes were still unfocused, as if he wasn’t looking at her, but she knew they were. Regardless of the man’s intent, Cecelia had to get out—to escape. There was nothing right about the man.
Danger. Yet another shock that forced Cecelia away from the door, hugging against the edges of the desk. The man, unworried, continued to watch. The door was still close. Yet there was something that was screaming at her to stop herself. Something was out there waiting. A hunter, a predator, was waiting in the dark in the hallway. The handle didn’t move, even if the door was unlocked. Thump. Cecelia slumped downwards, her back pressed against the desk. The knife still with her. Even if she could stand at that moment, she couldn’t will it. The man, unworried and unfeeling, continued to watch.
Danger. Yet another shock before Cecelia moved away from the door, hugging the edges of the desk. The man continued to watch her. The door neutral like it should be. Something screamed at
“Who…” Cecelia began, but quickly trailed away, the gears within her mind turning slowly. A strange concoction of emotions dominated her being. “Help me.” It was a whisper, yet the emotions could be felt within those two simple words. She was an untrained inexperienced mortal trapped in a room. There was an unknown vacant man in the middle and an unknown predator outside. The knife she held instilled nothing. Then, to her surprise and horror, the man moved. His rough hands grasped hers. The knife. The man took it easily and Cecelia closed her eyes. The handle turned. The door opened. The measured steps thumped against the wooden flooring.