What the Future Holds
Shayla reclined on her throne, her chalk white fingers a stark contrast to the black onyx as they drummed restlessly against the stone. Everyone else was gone for the moment, not that Shayla could really tell the difference. There were no sounds of life around here, not now that the kids were gone. There was never any warm breath visible on the frigid air, never the sound of a heaved sigh or a beating heart. Even Shayla's own thoughts seemed to become muffled by the deathly silence in this place. Her ears began to ring with the silence, her head began to spin with it.
She jumped to her feet suddenly, clenching her hands to her ears and pacing back and forth before the stone thrones that lined the room. A loud, piercing whistle shattered the silence, and Shayla's eyes widened and began to dart around the room wildly. What if she wasn't really alone? What if someone were in here with her, hiding, only waiting for their chance to end her? She raced about the grand room, tossing aside the sparse furnishings, peeking behind thrones, ripping down the grand tapestries on the walls.
But there was nobody there. Only the shrill sounds of the arctic winds penetrating her frozen sanctuary. She had to force herself to gather her wits about her, bracing herself against the only undisturbed object in the whole room. On its stand sat a shallow stone basin, also made of shiny black onyx. The water inside had frozen into a perfectly flat reflective surface. It was currently reflecting Shayla's pale, crazed face back up at her. She was mesmerized by it, until she heard a sharp thud against the heavy wooden doors of the entrance hall.
She lifted her gaze- her emerald green eyes cold and hard like gemstones - almost longingly to the massive wooden doors across from her. It seemed almost as if she were expecting someone, but there were no visitors to her icy fortress. Only forlorn snow drifts blowing in from beneath the door. The sharp 'thud!' sounded once more, and then a third time, until it became a constant battering noise that seemed to rebound and resonate within her skull. It must be hailing outside.
Shayla looked back at her reflection, trying to distract herself from the storm outside by studying every contour of her face, the bright green eyes, the flat black tresses of hair that cascaded over her pale bare shoulders. She began to circle the looking glass, as if trying to see herself from a different perspective. Her bare feet made no noise as she padded across the frigid stone floor, only the slightest jangle of the anklets she wore. Despite the cold Shayla wore only a slinky black dress, one that clung to her curves and flaunted her assets. Not that there was anyone she needed to impress.
She reached down with one hand, grazing her fingertips against the cold ice. As she touched the surface, it shimmered and rippled until it showed another face - well, the same face but… different. It was young, and vibrant, and full of life. Short black hair pulled into a spiky ponytail, garbed in a green robe that was slightly too big and carrying a knobbly walking stick. The young girl was tromping excitedly down a forest trail, several paces ahead of an older man decked out in travelling garb.
Shayla stifled a sob, but not a trace of a tear leaked from her dry eyes. She waved her hand over the image and it changed, beginning to flicker from one scene to another. The girl was suddenly a young lady, just entering womanhood. This time she was travelling with a different companion, guiding him across the shores of the Eastern Ocean. Making love for the first time in the shadow of a roaring waterfall. The images flickered faster and faster, through the birth of a child, the rise of her own empire, and meeting her dearest and truest friends for the first time.
With a rasping gasp, she stopped the painful montage of her past life, freezing it on an image of her own laughing face, arms linked with a freckled, winged companion. Shayla reached both hands down and caressed the ice with her fingertips, trying to touch the her from so many years ago. Her voice cracked with unshed tears.
"Don't… don't ever become this. You have so much to live for."
But of course there was no answer. Shayla turned her back on the scrying basin, wrapping her arms around herself. She had never felt so alone. Everyone around her was completely bound to her will. Was this existence really worth it?
She lifted her hand, making sweeping gestures in the air, and shadows began to billow forth from thin air. The darkness weaved between her fingertips, intertwining around her legs, entangling itself in her hair. Finally, the shadows heaved and roiled into one semi-solid shape before her. The voice, when it spoke, was raspy and snakelike, and the end of every word seemed slightly incomplete, as if snatched away by the wind before it could finish.
"Whaaat would you have of meee?"
She regarded it as regally as possible, trying to straighten her shoulders and look commanding.
"I want…" Her shoulders sagged and she whispered the last word. "Company."
The shadow seemed to chuckle and hiss at the same time, and it swooped in behind her, enveloping her shoulders with shadowy, incorporeal hands. It's glowing eyes and formless mouth hovered out of sight, whispering grotesquely into her ear.
"Anything my missssssstress requiresss." He snaked around to her other side, shadowy fingers clutching at her neck, caressing flesh that couldn't even feel his ghostly touch. "Becaussse after all… who needs friendsss when you can keep the company of the dead?"
She tried to turn sharply to look the creature in it's glowing red eyes, but it swooped around behind her again, always keeping out of sight except for the swirling tendrils of darkness that trailed from his spectral body. Shayla backed up until she felt her back slam into the cold, wooden doors. Finally, the shadow deigned to float in sight, it's leering face inches from her own. Shayla swallowed and couldn't help but look afraid.
"You… you aren't my friends?"
The shadow's hissing laugh echoed around the room, until it was like a constant grating annoyance.
"Hah! Haaahahaaaahaaaheeeeeheeeeeeeeeeeeee…" He bowed with an obsequious gesture of his shadowy claws. "We are… have alwaysss been… ssservantss of our missstresss."
Shayla turned away sharply, another sob catching in her throat as she rests her cheek against the hard wood of the majestic doors. Her attention was caught by something in the woodwork, though, and she was able to drown out the laughter of her spectral servant as she examined the door closer. She ran her fingers carefully over small bumps and grooves, weaving some small magics into her touch to clean away the wear of the years. Yes! There was most certainly a design there that she had never noticed before. Artfully carved into the wood and iron of the construction, Shayla could make out depictions of suns, lions, runes, and bits of scripture. A hard lump caught in her throat as she tried to choke back the emotions welling up within her. She had forgotten completely about the door… she let out a sobbing laugh and then turned around to face the shadow, this time with an air of determination.
"You!" She pointed at him. "I want you to destroy me. I command you!"
The creature only laughed harder and raked his shadowy claws harmlessly through her chest, to no effect. Then he disappeared, fading away with only one word audible through the laughter. 'Caaaaaan't! Caaan't… hahaheeeeeheeheee….'
With an anguished cry, Shayla flung open the massive doors and fell to her knees, almost grateful to feel the harsh stinging shards of hail battering against her skin. This was what she deserved, it was what she needed… She knelt in the snow and whispered frenzied apologies over and over again to the young girl in the looking glass.
Out of nowhere, Shayla felt a polite tap against her shoulder and she stiffened, startled. A somewhat confused voice called out to her over the sound of the ice storm.
"Err… I was wondering about in the past, when I got a feeling I was needed here. Is this still the palace of Dregan Hiregard..?"
"No, it's mine now--" She turned and looked up into the familiar face of a man she had seen but a few moments ago in the scrying glass. She mouthed his name breathlessly. "…Belarius."
"Shayla? What have you done?" His surprise didn't take long to fade into disappointment and resignation. He gripped his staff tightly with one hand, and pulled Shayla to her feet with the other. He helped her back inside the relative calm of the throne room and turned to face her. "What need of me do you have now? When you are this?" He can't keep the hint of disgust from his voice as he gestures to her cold, unloving body.
Shayla's voice comes out as a whisper as she looks up at him, afraid but determined.
"I think you know why. I… I've dawdled long enough." She eyed the staff he still held clenched tightly. "It's long past time I began my final journey."
She casted one final spell of calling, and an ornate journal appeared in her hands. It was dusty from years of neglect, from being hidden away from the world. Inside were pictures and journal entries, all from her years of travelling with her friends oh so long ago. She shoved it into Belarius' hands and closed her eyes.
"You'll need to destroy that after."
She was sick of all the death around her - the whole undead thing had grown old… only it was far too late to change her mind. This was the only way to end it. She felt Belarius briefly clasp a comforting hand on her shoulder… and then she retreated into the recesses of her mind, losing herself to memories of days gone by. Shayla spent her final minutes in the past, where she could pretend she was happy one last time.
