Trashes of the Counts' Families || Trash of the Count's Family || OC

51

It was dark in this strange new place. But it was calm. That was odd.

The stars were high above her, shining some light but not enough. There was no moon. The sky seemed perfect without it.

There was some sort of liquid substance beneath her, black and inky.

She was walking, ripples on the water appearing where she set foot. She didn't know what she was walking towards or why, but she didn't want to stay in one place, in case something might start chasing her.

As she walked, the horizon stayed the same. The only way she could tell she was moving and not staying still was because the stars were moving. She could identify the constellations, there was the Stone Guardian, a vague figure of square forms made of stars, and the Lake of Spears, a circular lake with various stars stretching out from it like spears. And there were many more, some she had never seen before and some she only read about.

But as she walked along, walking for neither too long nor for too short, she saw a figure in the far distance.

She stopped walking, carefully observing the figure. It was small. Hunched over as if it were in pain. It... it looked like a child.

Adara took a few steps towards it, and as if it moved closer to her, she reached the child without even taking three steps.

She could not see the child. It was there, right in front of her, but she could not tell if the child's hair was blonde or brown, if its skin was pale or if its eyes were green. She could not see.

But what she could see was that the child was bleeding. Bleeding from various cuts on its arms and legs, a long cut along its chest and a rather nasty cut along its face, another reaching down from its eye down to its jaw.

Adara thought the child was awfully lucky it did not get blinded by the wound so close to its eye, and that it was still alive after so many wounds. It must have had a will to live.

She stood above the child, but the child did not look up. It continued looking with its head down. So she sat down, right in front of the child. She opened her mouth, feeling odd that she was using it for something other than screaming.

"What's wrong?" she asked, a second later.

The child did not respond immediately. "You can't escape us," the child mumbled.

Adara frowned. Despite the child mumbling and not being able to hear the words it spoke, she understood what it said. "What do you mean?"

The child looked up, and she could see it now. Its eyes were black like the darkest coal, filled with hateful desperation. Its skin was light enough to pass for a Southerner's, a sun pendant smeared with blood dangling from its neck. "You are trying to get rid of us. You can't do that."

Adara, pulling herself away from the child, realised who she was looking at with shock. It was... her. She was looking at herself, in her white nightgown splattered with blood, on the night she disappeared. "What—."

The child stood up, towering over her despite its short stature. "You need us. You can't get rid of us so fast! Just because somebody in your 'best friend's' body says so! It isn't that easy!"

Now the child was even taller. Hair a luminous golden blonde in an intricate hairstyle. A face so pale and sharp that she thought she would cut herself. A dress so beautiful and extravagant, with lavish silk and satin making it look noble. And those dignified eyes, a bright green, peering down at her with an expression just as hateful. "You need us," this new figure spoke, sometimes bleeding from scars, sometimes too short. "To stop you from making such idiotic mistakes in the future."