Deep black is all around. But from far above, tiny swirls of ice catch the light, like lost stars adrift in space. As they sink into the darkness, they lose their individuality, piling into bitter cold.
I am a stone.
My legs, my arms were so numb that I could not find them. Did I still have them? My body leapt, thrashing, swinging, scrambling for any confirmation from its members. Stone struck stone. I reeled, clenching as my femur howled louder than I did. I cowered. The only comfort I found was in my own embrace, empty as the echoes of my own scream from distant corridors.
Alone.
But the pain affirmed I was alive and whole.
As the pain subsided, I looked about. I was laying upon frozen stone, rough but cut with an artisan’s hand, laid in an intricate pattern. The night sky extends overhead. Before and behind, darkness. I extended my arm and a hand enclosed around mine.
“Whoa!” My arm shot back, and the hand let go easily. “Who-” I jumped to my feet, pain no longer a concern, and backed into a wall, hitting my back and ricocheting forward. Someone caught me and supported me against his chest for a split second before steadying me on my feet. I looked up, and for a moment, I thought I saw a man’s face before me.
“I’m just as surprised as you are.”
The charisma in his voice and firmness in his build, or perhaps the mere presence of another in this void put me at immediate ease. I slowly extended my hand in search of him again, and he took my hand.
“It’s further ahead. I’ll take you there.”
“Where?”
“Oh—Well, you will understand when you see it.”
“What?”
But he fell silent, leading me through the dark. His footsteps were confident, a stride, even, when my eyes could not distinguish the difference between impending wall or leagues of hall. Or worse, some bottomless pit or other hazard. But I surrendered to his confidence, closing my eyes and listening to my footsteps trail his.
As the questions bubbled up, I asked who he is, what we’re doing. Inwardly, I wondered how I ended up here. What was I doing before this? My head was empty. My head was devoid of any fragment of time before he met my hand in the dark. But he didn’t really talk in the meantime. I would just have to wait and see.
But wait for what?
He halted and released my hand. We were still in darkness. A door opened.
“After you.”
He guided me in with a hand on my back. He followed. His footsteps trailed away, and faint white light bloomed. As he moved through the area, he left eerie globs of light at each pedestal, pulling the veil back, revealing breathtaking stone mosaic, statues, treasures, artifacts, stories-tall tapestry emerging one-by-one.
“This is a castle! How could this be? Filled with treasure!” My confidence in him wavered. “Why would you bring me here? Who are you?”
He appeared at my side, and I beheld his form. He was flat like an afterimage. He moved strangely like he was between dimensions. An impression of a man. I was horrified.
“Stay away!”
I sprinted for the door, and he caught me.
“Relax! I know how I look. Forgive me. I can’t look any other way. Please don’t be scared.”
As he stammered, he held me a little too long. It was strange. He felt like a man, but he did not look like one. It was unnerving. I pulled away but stood in place this time. He had been friendly so far.
“I’m sorry.” I could barely look at him. He looked horrible. Like a tear. “You’re a ghost?”
“I’m Driscoll. It’s been so long. You’re finally here. And you look beautiful. Tell me your name.”
“Katherine.”
“Katherine.” He savored the name. “Welcome to the Hall of Monuments. It’s not quite a castle. It serves as a memorial to the life of my master.”
“Then he is a ghost like you?”
Driscoll ignored the question.
“It’s more a museum than a castle. I wonder if it’s best to let you wonder the hall unguided. See for yourself who he was. But he waited for this day. He always knew it was coming. The day his twin soul would appear, be drawn to his. He always know. He spoke so fondly of you.”
“Of me? Did he know me?”
“He knew of you.”
And again, he brushed aside further questions, stepping aside and granting me run of the hall. So I glided over to the center, to the large, shallow pool. I knew at once what it was and vocalized my thought.
“Scrying pool.”
“It sure is.”
But I did not quite know what that word meant. It just seemed to fit as a natural definition for what lay before my eyes. I knelt by the water, dipping two fingers into it. Scrying pools must be magic of some sort. Magic and ghosts. It was uncomfortable.
“Am I in Hell or something? Who are you?”
He didn’t answer immediately at first, which made my skin crawl.
“Are you not lucid? You’re dreaming, Katherine.”