Mirror, Mirror On The... Wait, You’re Not A Mirror || Hayley & Ridley
There was something off about her, lately, and she couldn’t put her finger on what was causing it.
She coalesced into form from a burst of silver and gold smoke. She grunted out an annoyed sigh and crossed her arms defiantly as she glared at the rubble of the Le Fay rubble.
That was troubling, she thought. The Manor was spelled by ancient Le Fay magic and it should have stood the test of time. Her mother had been a proficient witch before she had cursed her to live an immortal, mundane life. That thought made her smile only slightly... She still relished the moment centuries ago when she came into her own and destroyed everything her mother had ever worked for in one night.
Malyk had left the mortal coil years ago, telling her he was tired of this world and was ready for a new adventure. Her hand pressed into her chest, hoping to assuage the ache that still throbbed there when she thought of him.
She remembered that night like it was yesterday, when she took Malyk’s hand and they sauntered out of the Manor and left Magdelina thrashing about on the floor, full of immortality and mundane-ness. It was the first bargain she ever struck, and remembering it made her feel warm inside. It was her truest nature, and that the first of that magic she wove was so wonderfully cast upon a woman so deserving of its consequences.
So, why, now, after so many years and lifetimes ago was she finding herself drawn back to the one place she had absolutely no care for?
For two months now she had been seeing flashes, glimmers in her mirror that were strange and unbidden... feeling emotions and strangeness settle around her that had no business in her life.
Artemis lit silently upon her shoulder as she continued to stare forward. Absent-mindedly she reached up and stroked her familiar’s breast feathers.
“What’s going on here, eh, Artemis?” she asked her familiar. She clucked and ruffled her feathers. “I agree.” Ridley replied, feeling her own unease of the dilapidated gothic structure before them. After a few moments of continued staring and pondering magical implications that might have caused the house to fall to ruins, she strode forward. She kept walking until she stood in the middle of what was once the grand sun parlor. The piano was a heap of trash, its ivory teeth strewed about haphazardly.
She nudged one of the keys with a toe when a cold breeze washed over her entire being and she shuddered. Not because it was cold, but because it harbored the feel and smell of lingering magic. She spun around in a circle, frantically looking for whatever had caused the disturbance.
There, next to the crumbling staircase she caught sight of a shimmer. When she acknowledged it, it flared up in a cold blue light that made Ridley blink and lift up her hands to shield her eyes from the great emittance of light. When she lowered her hands and her vision acclimated she gasped and her breath caught in her throat.
A translucent, shimmering image of her grandmother stood staring at her with a small, smug smile.
“Althea?” She asked incredulously. The image shimmered in and out of focus as Ridley heard the eerie echo of her laughter.
Althea turned and began to float away.
“Grandmother!” Ridley called out and dashed after her. The visage moved quickly and easily through the rubble and cracked floors of the Manor, and Ridley’s emotions caused her to be clumsy as she struggled to keep up.
Althea stopped abruptly and Ridley’s attempt to keep up caused her to momentously charge right through the spectral vision of the matriarch and she tumbled through a door that led to the cellars. She fell several feet, as the stairs had not been saved from the decay of the Manor.
She let out an “oof” as the air was forced from her lungs upon impact with the cellar floor. As quickly as she could she sat up and looked up at the door way to see Althea staring down at her.
“Play nice,” the spectre said before she evaporated into blue, glowing smoke.
“Althea!!” Ridley pleaded. “Come back!!”
She stood and kept her eyes on the doorway above her, waiting with baited breath, hoping she would reappear.
She waited a long moment before she dared even moving, wondering if movement would some how dissuade the skittish spirit from coming back together.
A rustle caught her ears and she turned around to face the dark of the cellar that had been behind her. From her pocket she fished up a smooth, white stone that fit snuggly in her palm. She lifted it up and, cool, white light leapt out from the stone and shone in shafts from between her fingers.
“Althea?!” She called hopefully into the receding darkness.
The light fell over a corporeal figure. Blonde-white hair reflected back the light from her witch-stone’s light.
“Who-” she began and then gasped when she took in the sight of the person who had been hiding in the shadows. Her eyes widened and her mouth went dry.
