Author: Angel Commando PM
Cyra Rovski knew she couldn't hide from it any more. Even with the war raging around her, with people living and dying. . . She stared into the mirror. She couldn't deny it any longer. She was infected. Slight AU, OC-centered. UNDER REVAMP. Prologue done.Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure/Tragedy - Chapters: 9 - Words: 47,423 - Reviews: 20 - Favs: 10 - Follows: 8 - Updated: 02-27-13 - Published: 04-09-09 - id: 4981946
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Resistance: Fall of Man franchise. . . I swear I didn't steal anything, and I don't plan to, so please don't let me be crushed under a Titan's melee attack. That causes instant death.
Rating: Currently the rating is a T. Rating may or may not be upped in later chapters.
Notes: Look! It's revamped. I'll get started on Chp. 1 tonight, as well. But hooray! I really, really like where I went with the new perspective, and it's likely I'm all done revamping the prologue. Hooray! So anyway. Read and enjoy!
"It's so pitiful what you are,
As beautiful as you are,
You should have seen this coming all along.
You're everything that's so typical -
Maybe you're alone for a reason,
You're the reason."
10 Years - "Beautiful."
I hate this dream. I thought bitterly, relishing the few, brief moments of calm I was given. No, it's not a dream. It's a freaking nightmare.
The force that was suspending me dissipated, and I couldn't stop the scream that was wrenched from my throat was I fell. Down, down, down - until an ungodly torrent of wind snatched me up. Fear pulsed through me as the hurricane-force winds battered me around, flinging me one way, and then another. Nausea rose inside of me as I was tossed about like a rag doll, body tumbling over itself, and for a horrifying moment, I thought I was going to throw up. Though the feat was impossible, I somehow managed to clamp my hands over my mouth, and I wrenched my eyes shut.
This nightmare is always the same. The winds toss me around, and I wake up right before I hit the ground-
Right as the thought crossed my mind, I found myself being plummeted downwards, and I flinched, knowing that the ground was seconds away from me, and I was going to hit it, body fracturing into a million different pieces - my back impacted with the hard floor, knocking the wind out of me, and my body tumbled over itself, legs and arms smacking into it painfully. As I came to a stop, I laid there, wheezing air in and out in an attempt to orient myself again.
Time passed as the pain peaked and faded, and I finally got my breathing under control.
Wincing, I forced myself to get to my knees and look around, battling a sharp pang of fear. The nightmare had never done this before. Never. What was going to happen here?
As I took stock of my surroundings, I noticed that I was surrounded by darkness - yet I could see. It shouldn't have been possible, but it was. Even more strangely, I was somehow seated on an invisible floor. All around me, the shadows roiled, as if agitated by my very presence. Breathing in deeply, I tried to calm myself as I thought of what to do next. For all I knew, I would be imprisoned in this darkness forever.
No, I thought harshly, no time to think like that now. Calm down. Plan.
Moving sounded like a really good course of action. I stood on shaky, pained legs, wincing as they threatened to buckle under her weight. The pain wasn't unbearable, but that was probably leftover adrenaline coursing through my veins. Taking a step forward, I tested my weight. Good. Next foot - okay. I can do this. I began to walk, ignoring the fact that the darkness was the only thing that stretched around me, that it was the only stable certainty.
I would wake up soon. I knew it. I just had to burn time until then.
Walking, I found my echoing footsteps were my only companion. But it was okay. Just have to walk until I wake up, I thought to myself - and paused. A slight tremor rocked the ground beneath me, and I turned around, curious as to what it was.
What the heck?
A mirror loomed behind me, no more than ten feet away. I stared at it, confused and a little uneasy at its presence. The border of the mirror was an ordinary cut of some rich, dark wood, with no special engravings or anything significant about it. The mirror was a good six feet in length, easily towering over my small stature. Curious as to what the mirror was even doing there, I stepped closer, hoping that maybe it would hold a key to my waking up sooner. I was just about to examine the frame of the mirror when I noticed my reflection.
I was wearing. . . Outfits. Dresses, pants, shorts, tees - as I watched my reflection, my clothing morphed from one to the other. I looked down at myself, finding my own clothes acting the same way. Shaking my head, I looked back up at my reflection, and found there were. . . . Other things wrong with me. My hair was longer, and several shades darker than my natural color. My eyes, instead of being a dark green, were also morphing colors.
The expression of myself in the mirror was wide-eyed, and scared.
And she didn't look like me.
Are you really sure that's not you?
"I have scars," I said, voice croaking hoarsely in the darkness, "When I was seven, I fell off my bike and my face hit the curb. When I was ten, I cut my leg with a knife. You don't have any scars."
My reflection quirked her head, as though she didn't understand what I was saying. Fear pulsed inside of me, icy-cold and gut-wrenching. She didn't have any scars - but I did. I remembered those incidents. I had cried from pain and fear for hours, terrified of gauze wrappings and bandages and doctors looming over me.
Blood and pain define you as human. But you aren't human, are you?
The eyes of my reflection momentarily settled on green before flashing to molten gold. And she straightened, clothes disappearing from her body. I heard cracks, and watched as the muscles underneath her skin began to convulse. She grinned, revealing two pairs of pointed, white fangs.
"Come closer," She whispered, beckoning me with a taloned finger, "I want to see you. I want to snuff out the last bit of my humanity."
"No-" I struggled to say, but found my throat tightened, and my voice withered away. In the glass, my reflection smiled, eyes narrowing.
"It wasn't a choice. Now come. Here."
I wanted to gasp as I felt myself moving, body making jerky movements as my feet moved me closer. My hearts started to beat faster, and I found panic racing through me. I didn't want to be near her. I didn't want that mirror anymore. I wanted to be rid of that golden-eyed monstrosity. Her lips split as she smiled, blood pulsing over the torn skin. I gagged.
I stopped directly in front of the mirror, still fighting the invisible hold on myself.
There is no running from your fate.
My reflection lifted her hands, and I echoed her movements. We placed our palms on the glass, and for a moment, I could only feel the cold of the pane.
But then it shattered, glass shards surrounding us as she stood there, naked body transforming to look so, so different. She's not human. That's not me. I don't look like that. Oh god, please let me wake up. Please, please, please.
"No," She announced, stepping forward to embrace me. Her skin was hot, and felt feverish against my own, "No, I am you. Or, more specifically, you're me. You're one of the last ones - a piece of my humanity. . . And I'm going to kill you." She giggled as she said this, and I stood there, petrified.
She was holding me like a lover, tenderly, but readily confessed to wanting to murder me. I don't understand. Why won't I wake up? Please, just let me wake up.
She pushed me then, and I fell against the floor - and gasped. She laughed above me, yanking out the piece of glass she'd just stabbed me with, and did it again.
I laid there, feeling my blood spilling over my skin, and felt that shard of glass impale me over and over again. My throat was working again, and I found I had enough energy to let out a weak, garbled scream. The golden-eyed girl above me laughed, as if it were just some joke to her. That killing me was the funniest thing she'd ever done.
"Enough," A voice said, stilling her, ". . . Look at this mess."
My head lolled to the side, and as my vision began to web over, blood loss and shock combining together, I swore I saw something that looked like a woman. Her shape changed, body and facial features reconstructing themselves. The girl above me said something, and the woman replied, but I was too far gone to care - or hear.
I just wanted to sleep now.
A gentle hand closed my eyes, and brushed down my cheek.
"Rest now," The woman said, "And rest in my embrace."
I surrendered myself to her voice, uncaring as to who - or what - she was.
I didn't care. She promised me peace.