Descent

Some not-so-joyful news, again concerning that spear maiden named Gweylen. The picture of which is two posts below, yes.

A worn-out, but still not completely, name was found on her dagger. Ezil. And as soon as we found out about this, a bell immediately rang in Berenice’s head - and then in mine.

Once upon a time, we were looking through notes from a nameless girl whose daughter was burned in a fire. Can you guess it right once? The daughter's name was Ezil.

I don't believe in such coincidences. And therefore, being impressed, I wrote a short text. See for yourself, in short.

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She ran as fast as she could. Her heavy breathing left round spots on the shapeless mirrors - they broke from moisture and painfully cut her back. The booming heartbeat did not keep up with the steps; Because of this, her feet constantly went astray.

Gweylen!

She stopped and froze. The wounded legs seemed to fill with cotton wool and stopped feeling anything. It seems that her pursuer himself was lost in the tangle of steps and glass.

She buried her gaze on the floor so as not to look at her reflection. They scared her; seemed lifeless - sculpted from wax impaled on a human skeleton. Their dead eyes, the color of swamp mud, watched her every move.

The stairs ahead were familiar. It resembled the one that rose from the sea coast and led through narrow streets to her house - only this one for some reason went down. Exhaling quietly, she reached up and touched the very tips of her fingers to her steps - and the space around, with a strangled cry, crumbled. She flew into the abyss.

Gweylen!

For a moment she was blinded by a bright light and someone's face, worriedly emerging from the twilight - and then fell back into a dirty gray whirlpool. All the mirrors have disappeared; the even radiance pouring from everywhere destroyed the shadows.

The steps twisted bizarrely and tied into a ragged pattern. They became smooth and flat, and then sharp and ribbed, like saw teeth. They led to and from houses; they entwined her and smothered her with their moldy stones.

She ran, not making out the way. She did not understand where the right was and where the left was, she did not distinguish between up and down. The only thing that still made any sense was forward and backward.

The light began to flicker and dim to an unbearable brightness. The darkness around hurt the eyes and intertwined into a disgustingly dense fog, obscuring the road. She wrapped her arms around herself so as not to touch her finger to the thickening dense mass.

She froze. Stairs hung above her head and under her feet, surrounding her on all sides, forming an even square. Between every two adjacent steps there were black gaps, from which pale ruby eyes slowly floated up. They cut her with their cloudy pupils, scratched her face, loosened her teeth and pulled them out one by one.

She growled exhaustedly and slammed her elbows into the floor. The broken stone turned into weightless fine dust, into the gaps between which her body fell. The eyes blinked and dissolved into unbearable whiteness, spreading in uneven spots.

Gweylen!

She opened her eyelids. The bright sun looked shyly through the window and played on her face with small reflections. The burned back burned unbearably; she groaned from the sharp pain and immediately coughed.

- Gweylen, glory to the One! — a painfully familiar voice came from above and from the side. - Are you here!

The bright sun quickly hid behind the round clouds and peeked out laughingly from behind them. The tracks of salt water on my face stung my skin a little.