Dark Halls, Stone Walls

Chapter One

Warm candlelight seeped through my lulling eyelids, gently rousting me from the darkness that gripped me in a cobra's vice. For one reason or another, I wanted to dream a little longer, though I couldn't remember what I had imagined in my slumber—if I could call it that—So I stayed.

The smooth floor beneath my figure was hard and cold. I could only figure that it was stone in my half-awoken daze, though what kind escaped me for the moment. My aching feet were likely what was distracting me.

I licked my dry lips. The taste of salt and mint were far from appetizing, but it was enough to wake me up enough to force my heavy eyelids open.

Thousands of candles were responsible for my awakening, as each little blur of light came from the grand chandelier just above me. Golden and glistening, it hovered perfectly still, which made it seem more like a photograph than real life. Beyond that, there were four painting that were separated by carvings of swirling white wood, which branched off and stretched out into four, golden-white pillars that reached the wall and dove down to the floor.

Each pillar matched their corresponding paintings. On the floor of each pillar there was a square made of garnet beneath the first pillar, but the pillar itself had carved-in winged men follow a man with long hair up the until he entered the ceiling painting, which had a gate made of mother pearl upon a cloud with a bright backdrop. The second pillar had a winged man coming up from the floor and onto the pillar, where a stationary person stood, neither looking toward the ceiling or the floor. The third pillar had the winged man give the person one wing, before he descended back to the floor. In the fourth and final pillar, the one-winged person tried to fly, but instead walked to the floor to join his winged friend.

Beautiful and ethereal from every angle without a shred of a doubt in my heart, and still, I could not deny how the air itself seemed to think it holier than I or how the pillars were supreme judges that towered over me. The chandelier, too, was less of a decoration and more like a being desperate to reach down to the Earth, and yet was still just a bit too far, held back by the pillars.

A strange place to wake up in, no doubt. Yet there it all was. Waiting. In an empty room with a sleeping woman.

As I laid there, my eyes casted downward to the platform far above and in front of me. The platform in question was only connected to my floor, by two marble staircases with brass rails on opposite sides of the room, curving to the middle of the room. Just below that, was a door far in front of me. The room itself was perhaps enough to fit a company of bachelors and ladies to dance the night away.

I spoke out quieter than I meant to, "Is anyone there?" I cleared my burning throat, or at least, I attempted to. Instead, I threw myself into a coughing fit. My hacks were strong enough to shake my entire body and cause spit to dribble out of my mouth. I threw my body to one side, beat my chest, and slowed my breathing to still myself.

Thunder boomed outside and shook the entire building.

I focused on the rain pouring down just behind me, beating on what sounds like two tiny windows and a massive door. It was a relief to have a sound that wasn't my loud coughs or my shallow breathing, but it still felt a bit strange for it to rain so hard, so quickly.

What is this place? The question that lingered in the back of my mind came front and center at last. The answer escaped me for the moment. Maybe it was the oncoming migraine—or the itching fabric against my skin—that was distracting me.

I slowly forced myself upright with a groan. My head swung forward until my chin hit my chest. My eyes rolled and bounced in my head until they opened again.

I had a white lace dress on. It was a long-sleeved, floor-length dress with layers of fabric and a lace bodice that was so tightly tied, that the idea of me bending my back was impossible.