A Mirror in the Dark

Nellie didn’t recognise her reflection in the stained-glass anymore; she’d never looked so pale, even with the amber glow resting on her. Scars ran down her eyes to her lips, her hair was knotted and unkempt, and worst of all, her holy tunic was in tatters; its Sigmarite scriptures had been torn from her—it was losing its faith almost as much as she. At home, she’d known and respected death. But now that her own mortality was staring her in the face, she’d never felt such despair.

But a show of vulnerability wasn’t something she could afford the others; she couldn’t let them down now, not as the very floors of the Hallowed Centenrium seemed to rearrange themselves beneath her.

‘How long until dawn?’ she asked, trying to stay composed.

‘Could be days,’ Visel replied, defeated. He tossed a stone against the marble walls.

His tone ate at her. Nellie was on the verge of giving up.

Or, she would’ve been, had it not been for Helcia. She turned to her, pacing in circles around a fallen column, drunk on fatigue.

‘Careful.’ The girl delicately steered Nellie away from the walls. ‘I wasn’t joking. There really are things… in them.’

She heeded her warning and smiled feebly; in Helcia, she’d began finding the faith she’d lost—a strange conceit, considering Helcia’s own faithlessness. Not that faith mattered anymore; faith had led them both here, in a way—and now there were only four of them left, discounting the heathens and mutants that writhed around the decrepit halls of the Stormvault.

Lloid cut Nellie’s thoughts short as he slung a stone against the walls, following Visel’s example. She turned, aggravated.

‘Stop it,’ she whispered. ‘You’ll anger them.’

‘You’ll anger them,’ Lloid mocked back.

He’s still a child, she had to remind herself. He hasn’t seen what you have.

‘Stop,’ she asserted, louder. Helcia tried to steady her, but Nellie was growing jittery.

‘Stop.’ Another mock. Another stone against the wall.

‘Please—!’ she began raising her voice, but never finished.

A chill caught the air. They could all feel it. But Nellie seemed to be the only one to make out the spectre of black smoke and tattered cloth animating out of the wall.

They leapt up, afraid, drawing daggers at nothing, swiping, missing, as the spectre twisted into form. Unkempt hair. Withered face. Mouth wide-open.

It was like a mirror.

Helcia dashed away towards the bolted doors as if able to sense what happened next.

A shriek, scissoring the air in two. The company toppled to the ground, clutching their ears. Nellie could feel the chill get closer to her, ice against her neck.

But then, there was a terrible creek, and emerald light came spilling into the Stormvault. She turned to find Helcia standing in the glow between the now open doors.

And like a candle being blown out, the spectre dissolved into ash.

But there was no time to rejoice, only to run.