Magical Nonsensical Faults

There was something so admirable and enchanting when it comes to the mentions of magic. A word so literally powerful enough by itself, it owned the capabilities of turning men into greedy hounds within seconds time.

Magic. Such a fascinating subject, indeed. So intriguing when used wisely, fell into wrong hands then the world falls along in damnation. Ever so magnificent that it could reverse the impossibles.

A magical source that could satiate the greediest want and desperation.

"Shaun. . . Shaun Februs," Harris whispered. There it was again. The churning of familiar oddity within her— acids forming waves and crashing on stomach walls. "I've. Was it possible for me to have heard that name, elsewhere?" She asked, moreso to herself.

Shaun pursed his lips, his bloody dark red gaze landing on the princess's side profile. He shook his head, "No. Not in the slightest."

"But Harris heard you. . . You told me that we've met 'again'," The princess countered in contradictory. Her hands gripped her soft comforters, uncaring at how it wrinkled underneath her dainty fingers. "I heard that in perfect crystalline clarity. You, yourself, had told me that. I'm certain."

"You had probably heard things—",

"No!" She vigorously shook her head, as she whipped to face him with a hard stone glare. Had she been a basilisk then this awfully agitating boy would've long turned to marble. "It came from you. Come to think of it! Your voice happens to be so familiar. . ."

"I might've even heard it somewhere from the treacherous waves of cacophony when I somehow ended up in the deepest of the oceans, surrounded with kelp and choking for dear life." She pressed, firm and sure of whatever was in her current jurisdiction.

"You never were in such place." Shaun dumbfoundedly commented.

Harris seethed. His blatant way of flipping her over was infuriating. Her cherubic cheeks began to flare the brightest of red, ears hearing nothing but static as she eyed the boy with so much anger. "Out." She whispered.

"I didn't—"

"I want you out!" She exclaimed. Though she regretted ever doing so when she saw how his face was washed with surprise whilst his irises were glazed with hurt. For a moment, silence overcame their ambiance— a silence that sent numerous guilty thoughts in her head.

The sound of shuffling caught her attention, followed by padding shoes that got smaller and smaller the farthest it went. She sat, breathing heavily as purple guilt washed the red in her vision.

Her plump lips parted open, about to say an apology for her sudden crude behavior, but was instead left ajar without words flowing out.

"Princess Harris," she heard him call. But shame was too obvious for the boy that he didn't wait for her response. "Nothing. You remember nothing of what happened beforehand."

The door closed shut.

Her breathing hitched, her sight became blurry, and with one final blink. Everything surrounding her swirled and clumped into a mass of neverending darkness. She fell asleep.

Magic truly was magnificent. It could do things no ordinary man could. It could defy the laws of nature itself in one clap. Yet at the same time, as much as it brought glory— any crown was paired for a dagger.

And any magic used against the world's silent order, could cause the beholder so much. The death of others or death of one's self. The cruelest of punishments any one would cower to repent.

However, one would've done such. Anything to witness something they've desperately yearned for. To grab and cherish them while it lasts. One was willing to pay.

Whatever it would cost.

×××

Harris awoke first thing. Silver jeweled optics opened to welcome the sight of first dawn. Warm light filtered to her room, caelum painted in beauty of pinks, blues, and yellows. Her windows had been left open, and she was utterly thankful that it was.

The princess wouldn't have witnessed such an enchanting sight had the curtains been lowered.

She sat up with a stretch, her joints popping to place. Though she would wince every so often. It was as if she had been sleeping for an eternity. The aching was simply quite horrible.

The doors opened with a calculated swing and to Bonnie's grimace, it creaked in the slightest. This caught Harris' attention immediately, grinning and ecstatic at the sight of her dear maidservant but most vitally— the trolley filled with a variety of mouth-watering food.

"Good Morning, Bonnie!" Harris chirped, eager to hop off the bed. The aroma of roasted potatoes glazed in mushroom gravy made her stomach gurgle. "Are those roasted potatoes?" She queried the obvious, her silver-jeweled optics glittering in utmost delight.

"Princess!" Bonnie shrieked, irises widened in surprise. A hand flew to her chest, clutching the fabric whilst feeling how her heart seemingly ran marathons. "You surprised me!"

"My apologies." Harris sheepishly replied, throat still hoarse and dried.

Bonnie shook her head, cathing her composition in no time. Now that the shock had worn off. She plastered the sweetest smile she could ever muster towards the young princess, relief flashing through her visage, "Good Morning, princess! Thank goodness you're awake."

"You sound as if I woke up after a week." Harris incredulously joked. Eyes narrowing into bewilderment— she tried to recall anything that may have partook the day before. Only to find her head fuzzy and swimming.

The maidservantc shook her head, "This is the third day, princess. You fainted due to high fever." Apologetically, Bonnie replied.

"I wasn't sick!" The princess defended in an instance. She knew she wasn't sick— nor was she in any type of sickness that may lead her bedridden for trio of days. "I knew I wasn't. Somehow. . ." She whispered.

"Her Royal Highness Princess Cassia, found you sleeping on a pile of books in the library— sweating tons, flushed red, breathing heavy," Bonnie sadly went to pull the trolley next to the princess's bed, opting to set-up a royal breakfast on bed for the recovered Harris. "She called the nearest person she could, it was Prince Cyrus who brought you back here."

Harris shook her head furiously. Something doesn't feel right. "It doesn't feel right. Something's missing." She insisted. "I wasn't sick. I recall nothing of ever going to the library. I—"

'What's happening?'

"Bonnie. . . You have to believe me." Harris pleaded. Trying and utterly trying to clear her mind. She knew something was up. Something she couldn't fathom.

"Princess. . . I believe you."

Albeit the way Bonnie said it wasn't satisfying for Harris. It was half-hearted, sympathetic, bewildered, and unconvinced. This made Harris frown and shake her head in disappointment— preferring to eat the meal for her in silence.

It took a lot of convincing and persuading the head maidservant to allow her access once again outside the vicinity of her chambers. Although apprehensive, Bonnie eventually gave her permission, only if Harris wore suitable clothing for the rather cold winter wonderland.

Even though the palace, every nook and cranny, were enchanted to induce warmth appealing to the human body. Bonnie just had to make sure, as it was for a fact, the second time Harris had gotten herself sick.

Harris, as of current, found herself lagging in her usual velocity as she rounded the halls. With her thoughts filled and overflowing with numerous wondering questions— the princess frowned when a particular subject came to cross her mind.

The subject of which brought her so much frustration in the moment.

How come things turned to make no sense at all?

Things that don't seem to align well.

Things such as her getting claimed as sick for the past two days, only to recover and woken on third— albeit it felt as if she had merely slept for a day. Secondly, trying to reminisce her past ministrations from the day before prior, seemed to make her head ache uncontrollably, as if whatever force it was doesn't want her to recall at all.

Third and the last, blotches of black— her memories seemed to have been skipped and replaced with nonsensical stuff. There was this one particular memory where she 'drowned' on lake water just outside the castle walls, when she and Cyrus had 'apparently' gone out for a cool promenade.

She wasn't with Cyrus at all.

She was certain of that.

The last meeting they had together was when he dragged her to the kitchens for some cheesecakes rendezvous.

Harris' frown deepened and her bafflement became worst that she halted on her tracks to focus more. She was trying to make dots, aligning them to make every occurrences, at least, plausible and acceptable enough to result the current situation.

Yet it did not.

Most of the things did not.

No constellation was formed after connecting star after star.

Just a vivid mess of ligns that formed a tornado of chaos entwined.

She breathed out a sigh, still pondering. Albeit, her gaze had caught something that shimmered from her side. She turned, only to come face to face with her reflection.

It was the same mirror as before.

The lonesome antique mirror that caught her attention when she had stumbled upon it after walking cluelessly in search of the dining area.

Harris took a step forward, her hands grazing the finest details she'd ever witnessed that cased the looming mirror. Fingers glazing on leafy vines and blooming lilies of varying sizes.

The princess narrowed her brows, sneakily watching the opposite halls in case someone would pass by. She hadn't observed this mirror for too long when she came to find it first— due to Cyrus that was.

Yet, now that she's standing before it— she'd like to conduct her own rigorous bservation without any intervention. She'd hoped that no one would barge in this little space she created as hers for the mean time.

Her gaze flickered back, her attention now focused on the engraved letters on the very bottom of the mirror.

"Mirage of Death." She mumbled to herself.

Brows furrowed she started to adjust her sight and face her reflection. The wordings like the rest don't make any sense. . .

Albeit she had her whole body paralyzed.

The mirror began to swirlp and morph, to which made her breathing speed in anticipation, her heart racing in a velocity as if it ran marathons. Instead of her small self, she was greeted back with a person. . .

A person who seemed to be her but older and wearing clothes only worn by magicians.

Could this be her future?

However, as much as it showed what she deemed to be her future, it quickly transmogrify into a very much horric scene.

She watched as the person was pulled on a makeshift stage in front of a crowd of townspeople, her hands bounded by chains whom she immediately recognized as Class A moonstones (something that just happen to pop in her head). Her hands became wet, clammy.

Harris wanted to flee, to rid of her eyes from the unfolding story. Some unknown force just held her on place.

'Move! Move Harris!'

Harris' irises began to glaze with tears, her heart wrenching tight in sadness and mourning while it accelerated.

In seconds time, the person on the stage had her head sliced from their body— and to Harris' absolute mortification— she could witness the disgusting inners of the person's neck, and hear how the limb was morbidly detached from the main body, not to mention— the squelching and pouring blood.

And to add in her already distressed state, the one carrying an axe, held the severed head as if it was trophy amid the crowd. The executioner even had the audacity to grin widely akin to victors.

Harris let out a curdling horrified scream that tore her throat and made it coarse.

The head now zoomed for her to witness, jeweled silver optics widened yet devoid of light, lips parted open with trails of blood, and the bloodied white hair that was cut short.

Why does it look like her?

Why does it look like her?!

A sanguine bloodbath of a person who resembles her a hundred and one percent.

What was that?

Most importantly.

Who was that?

From the bottom, the engravings began to shift, something that she had failed to read.

'Seek The First, Unfold The Next, Wait For The Last''