Diamonds scattered over the floor.
Rain battered down and thunder echoed, making the very air quake. Icy wind rushed by, whipping my skin. Blue-white light flared, and with a mighty crack, my muscles seized.
Everything fell away. I couldn’t breathe. My heart refused to beat. My body bowed under the strain of my rigid muscles.
All at once, I went limp. I lay flat on my back, panting down the stale air of the tower. Above me, cobwebs dangled from a shadowy ceiling. No more visions. No more mist.
Gingerly, I hauled myself to my feet, only to find myself exactly where I’d begun, in a circular room. Where the archways had been, only dusty stone walls remained. Gone was the mist, and the shadows within. The doors I’d come through stood at my back, and a new set, carved with runes lay ahead. I approached, lifting my hand to trace a finger over one of the hundreds of carvings.
Something whimpered behind me.
The pitiful sound locked my muscles in place. My ears strained, catching the faintest hint of shallow, rasping breath.
God, what now?
Willing my hammering heart to ease, I turned slowly, squinting, afraid of what fresh horror lurked at my back.
Something, no, someone was curled up in the foetal position exactly where I’d lain only moments ago. My heart skidded to a halt, dropping to my boots at the sight of red-raw, melted flesh.
Every inch of twisted, steaming skin was burnt beyond recognition. All traces of hair had been scorched clean away from the splitting, blistered scalp, and the one ear I could see was nothing more than a pit in the side of the head. Smoke coiled into the air, filling the chamber with the putrid stench of roasted meat. I clapped a hand to my mouth, swaying on the spot, torn between the urge to run and help, and the need to turn away from such a gut-wrenching sight.
The person whimpered again, a tiny, rasping whine.
How were they still alive? Death would be a mercy. There was no coming back from this.
Except, it wasn’t real. It was just another of Maelgwyn’s visions, sent to frighten or trick me into turning away from my goal.
Comforting though that thought was, when the poor wretch stirred, attempting to shift their contorted limbs, pity swallowed me whole. Real or not, could they feel pain? I almost hoped the burns had gone deep enough to destroy the nerves, the only mercy in such horror. If an animal came to me like this, I’d end its suffering as soon as possible, but people were rarely lucky enough to be gifted a humane end.
Tugging my wrap over my nose, I took an absent-minded step closer.
As though sensing my presence, the person moaned, craning their neck to lift their head off the ground. Flesh sloughed away, sticking to the stone.
“Don’t.” I held out my hand, as though the poor thing could somehow see or hear my warnings.
Tears welled in my eyes at their pitiful yet desperate attempts to rise. There was nothing I could do to help. My knowledge was useless without the tools to implement it, but my soul thrashed, desperate to intercede, to help. I shook my head in an attempt to rid myself of the emotion clouding my thoughts. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.
The burnt person continued to struggle, fighting uselessly against the shrunken contraction of their flesh.
Shrunken…
Maybe I should use my dagger. A quick end had to be better than this. The hilt was slick in my sweating palm as I flexed my fingers, lifting the blade.
It would be no different to administering a lethal dose of pentobarbitone, would it?
My hand trembled and my breath quickened.
“Come on, Aliza,” I hissed.
I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it. It was not the same as euthanasia, and I was no murderer.
My unfortunate companion writhed with renewed vigour, their tormented groans becoming louder. A ruined hand braced against the ground, and against all the laws of science and medicine, against the heat shrunken tightness of the muscles, the arm straightened, pushing them upright.
With twitching jerks of motion, the person sat, then kneeled, and as I stumbled back several steps, stood. Melted flesh smoothed, turning from charred red to pink to tan. Dark blonde hair sprouted from the healed scalp, growing at an alarming rate. Disfigured features regrew, smoothing into a woman’s face.
My face.
The woman standing before me was… me.
As naked as the day she was born, my doppelganger stared. Her–my–blue eyes flickered over me before coming to rest on my face. Though she was undoubtedly my double, and though her hair was my natural colour, untouched by my beloved dyes, there was a glow about her that I’d certainly never achieved. A red mark bloomed between her breasts, spreading over her chest like fern leaves.
“You’re close,” she said, stealing my voice. I gulped. “The door behind you will lead you to the goal. The door behind me will lead you home. You have a choice to make.”
“I can only choose one door?” I still had a voice after all. I massaged my throat, rubbing at the ghostly ache.
“No. Both doors will remain open to you.”
“Then what do you mean? And what are you?”
“I am you, if you choose to go onward.”
My eyes lingered on the boring hair. My double smiled knowingly. Immortality without my rainbow hair? Was it worth it? Of course not, but then, if she really was me, she’d know that breaking the curse didn’t mean I’d accept the rewards. She’d know the only way home lay with the princes. I wasn’t doing this for immortality or crowns or any of that nonsense. It was the flaw in Maelgwyn’s plan, his assumptions that this world was better than the one I’d come from. His belief that I’d been driven here by greed and ambition, rather than necessity.
“Leave now, and remain as you are. Go on, and be forever changed.”
“Changed how?” Despite my certainty that Maelgwyn had misread my motivations, I had to be sure. What if immortality was automatic? What if breaking the curse triggered my reward, not giving me a chance to refuse it? “Will it happen right away? Will I become… you?”
“It is a choice only you can make.”
