Page 119 of Dark Fate

I gotta say, mirror-me looks like she knows some secrets the old me didn't.

I hear a little swish behind me and spin around so fast I nearly drill a hole in the floor. But no one's there, just a fancy dress laid out on a stone bench by the bed. It's a serious gown, like something Athena would wear to the Greek God Met Gala. My heart's still pounding like it wants to tango, which is pretty silly considering this place's supernatural serenity. It will take more than a spa-like atmosphere to undo the "fighting for my life" response.

I give the dress a little touch, and it's like stroking distilled moonbeams, smoother than silk and probably with a price tag to match. Makes me wonder who left it here for me. Is it formal wear for meeting some gods over tea and ambrosia? Or maybe it's battle gear for some unseen big bad?

A soft breeze tickles my skin, smelling like rain kissing the sun-baked stone. It's weirdly comforting, but in an unfamiliar way, I can't put my finger on it. This whole place has my head spinning more than that merry-go-round ride from hell at last summer's carnival.

I take the gown carefully off the bench, holding it up to admire the intricate embroidery stitched into the bodice and sleeves. It looks like it was made for me, and the fabric drapes and flows perfectly to accentuate my curves. I slip it over my head, the material cool and silky against my skin. It's lighter than air, almost weightless. I smooth out the skirts that cascade to the floor, the color shifting from pearlescent white to a shimmering silver, depending on how the light hits it.

Twirling in front of the mirror, I can hardly recognize myself. The dress transforms me and makes me look powerful yet ethereal—like I could command armies or dance among the stars. Running my hands over the bodice, I notice delicate designs stitched in, constellations and planets in swirling patterns. It's like wearing a piece of the night sky.

I don't know who left this for me or why, but wearing it makes me feel brave, beautiful, and ready to face whatever awaits me in this strange, luminous place.

The taste of pennies fades as I hoof it through this megamansion, eyeballing every detail like clues on an episode of CSI. Each step feels surreal, as if I expect a trapdoor to open up any second or some juiced-up angel guy to pop in and pass judgment.

But the further I go, the more this place starts giving me major sanctuary vibes—all hushed and peaceful, with an undercurrent of ancient mojo power thrumming through the walls.

I catch sight of something dead ahead—a fountain carved from the kind of marble that screams, "I'm too rich for Home Depot." Crystal clear water burbles from who knows where into a basin, with these perfect floaty lilies on top looking fresher than Bath and Body Works models. I dip a finger in, watching the ripples warp my reflection into something other than human. The water is cool against my skin, and this fountain radiates a magic fountain of youth energy.

Maybe I'll wake up looking ten years younger if I take a dunk; who knows?

I'm tiptoeing down this never-ending hallway like a church mouse, trying not to wake the pastor. My dress makes little swishy sounds that echo off the walls, and my footsteps feel weirdly choreographed like I'm following dance steps mapped out just for me.

My heart's thumping out a syncopated rhythm like it's jamming to its own beat—probably Morse code for "WTF is happening?"

I have to give props to my ticker, though—its incessant drum solo is proof that I'm still kicking—or at least I'm pretty sure I am. The jury's still out on the alive vs. dead question until I find some kind of cosmic receptionist to check me in.

This place is quieter than a library right before closing time. I keep padding through—maybe the next hall over will have a directory or a freakin' help desk—an angelic barista ready to offer cappuccinos and directions!

A macchiato would really hit the spot right about now.

The corridor stretches on, flanked by imposing columns and walls adorned with an eternal struggle carved into the stone. Angels and demons locked in combat are so visceral and detailed that I can almost hear the clash of swords and the anguished cries of battle. It's beautiful in its ferocity, haunting in its desperation.

You have to admire the artistry, but it's also haunting, you know? There is so much violence frozen in time.

I stop to admire one carving of an angel wrestling it out with a big bad demon dude. Tracing my finger along those stone wings gives me the chills—the marble's freezing, but it lights a fire in my veins, too.

Weirdly, it feels like déjà vu, like I've run my hands over these figures before. But it's stronger than just a feeling—more like muscle memory or something like my body remembers even if my mind doesn't.

The fog of familiarity is so thick I feel like I'm swimming through the cream of mushroom soup. If I can push a little further through the haze, maybe I'll break through into some answers. So I keep moving forward through this celestial maze, trailing my hands along the carvings as I go. Hoping the angels and demons etched into this place will guide me where I need to be.

What's waiting for me at the end?

A gift shop with novelty halo keychains?

A cosmic DMV to renew my soul license?

I have to be fucking dead.

A laugh escapes me—a hollow sound that bounces off the marble and is lost among the angels' wings.

Heaven? If so, where's Saint Peter with his keys or his checklist?

Where's the heavenly choir or the loved ones gone before me?

At this point, I'm just following the fancy stone breadcrumbs and hoping they don't lead me off a cloudy cliff. With each step, more questions unravel inside me like threads pulled from a tapestry. The familiarity isn't just in what I see—it's in what I feel, an echo of something profound and unexplainable.

The hallway seems infinite as if each stride takes me both closer and farther from some unseen destination. Angels and demons blur past me now as I pick up pace, their silent war becoming a background to my own inner turmoil.

---