Chapter 106 - Discovering Yourself (1/2)

In a fit of rage, he struck out at the smirking figure standing in the mirror, shattering it into hundreds of razor-sharp pieces that fell to the ground. A dull ache radiated up from his hand, looking down, he saw that the old, wrinkled flesh once again covered his bones. Across his knuckles was a large gash that oozed blood and exposed his moving tendons. Taking a handkerchief out of the pocket of his robe, he wrapped it around his hand and continued on, his footsteps grinding the broken glass into the plush maroon carpet that lined the hall.

After what felt like hours of walking, he finally found the end of the hallway. A spiral staircase came into view, it was magical in nature as that the steps were not supported in any visible way, just silently floating in place as they led down. Carefully, he put his foot on the first step, testing it with ever increasing weight. Satisfied that it wouldn't give way and send him tumbling down the steps to his death, he slowly made his way down.

The last floating step led him to a cavernous room teeming with activity. Young men and women were hurrying about, some in groups of three or more, all talking amongst each other, producing a cacophony of voices. A large board set imposingly in the center of the room; a long counter placed directly next to it. Many of the men and women were either looking at the board or talking to the people behind the counter.

As he nervously weaved his way through the throng of people, many of them bowed and acknowledged him as 'Sir' as he passed. Ignoring them completely, he stopped in front of the massive bulletin board. Pinned to it were many pieces of parchment, all completely blank. He shook his head quickly back and forth before looking back at the board, only to find that nothing had changed.

Fed up, he turned away, only to come face to face with a young man staring at him with those dull, white eyes.

”You're going to die.” The young man said, both his face and tone of voice apathetic.

”Shut up!”

”You'll never get out of here.” Another, more feminine voice informed him from his right.

Turning his head toward the additional voice, he saw a mousy, young woman looking at him with the same white eyes. Looking around himself, he noticed that all of the hustling people had grown still, all turning to look at him with those lifeless, white eyes.

He took a step back.

”You're already dead.”

Then another.

”Your soul will rot in here forever.”

Another.

”Just give up.”

A magnitude of voices derided him as he retreated toward the back wall. It was becoming harder and harder for him to keep his terror in check. He was beginning to believe those voices, that he was already dead, that he was in hell, stuck here for all eternity. He started to run. The monsters with their dead eyes parting for him as he ran, watching him, always watching.

He burst through a door, closing it hastily behind him, the dust drifting down and coating his balding head as it was shaken from the rafters above. His chest billowed up and down as his body starved for air. His heart was racing, threatening to burst from his chest, ending his terror once and for all.

Slowly but surely, his heart slowed as well as his breathing. As the adrenaline faded away, it was replaced by extreme fatigue, he only wanted to lay down and rest but knew he couldn't. He had to keep pressing forward, he had to find a way out of this horrid place.

There was a short hall in front of him, the only light being given off came from two lit torches hanging off of stone walls. The short hall led to a dim stairwell, the light from the torches unable to pierce the veil of darkness as the steps ran down into the earth. Taking a torch from its sconce, he held it before him, using it to light up the darkness as he made his way down the treacherous steps.

A cool, damp breeze sapped the strength from his feeble frame, the sound of dripping water reached his ears from further down. Running his hands over the moist, stone walls, he felt the ancient chisel marks left behind by whomever had built this passageway. Eventually, an orange glow could be seen, growing brighter with each step as he drew closer.

The stairs opened up into an underground room, a few braziers burning merrily in the four corners, providing dim, orange light. Taking a breath in, he observed, that other than the smell of mold and moisture, there was the thick smell of iron, of blood. A large table was set up in the center of the room with many different items separated into neat piles sitting atop of it.

Taking the torch, he examined the contents of the table, the harsh glow casting flickering shadows on the nearby walls. Everything listed on the ancient parchment that he had found within the desk was sitting on this table. Nightshade, crushed unicorn horn, arsenic... an infant's liver, everything he needed was here. He stopped at that sudden thought, why did he need all of this? Was there something that he was supposed to do?