Part II

The Dissonance Effect

"A witch? How did you know about the witch?" he choked out, "What're you doing here anyway?"

He felt a brief wave of dread, like he wasn't supposed to ask that question. Almost as quickly it vanished, but he still remembered its tendrils; he still held on to that creeping curiosity with this girl.

She stared off through one of the windows by the entrance, a faint smile still resting on her face. Her white dress glowed like an angel's gown in the dim twilight. He kept experiencing strange pulses of calm as he stared into it, into the white flowing off of her ghostly clear complexion. He took a few steps forward, up the stairs, closer to her.

"Everyone knows about the witch silly. They say she takes memories," she replied, looking down at him from her invisible heaven. She took a few steps down, "I thought something was following me through the woods so I had to settle here. I was pretty relieved when I found out it was empty."

He had felt that too as he wandered deeper and deeper. Maybe they had sensed the same thing.

"What were you doing in the woods?" he said, leaning back against one of the banisters that wrapped around the twisted staircase. He looked over and scanned his height; he was a good distance to leap over if the witch were to show up. He briefly chuckled to himself, amazed at how fearful he really was of an urban legend. The shadows hidden on the lower floors corners still weaved and churned on their own, and he tried to ignore the eerie dancing as he turned back to her, awaiting her answer. Her smile lit up again and she took a few more steps down, on his same step now. He felt himself push back against the banister, still not fully certain he could trust this girl. She was far too strange.

"What were you doing in the woods?" she countered, smiling wryly.

"Looking for a witch – to be blunt," he said, remembering the meat cleaver he was white knuckling again. That came out awkward, but what was more awkward was the toothy smile appearing on her face afterwards.

"You believe in that junk?" she sneered, "I was only kidding. I was just going for a walk." She took a step and a half up and moved forward, leaning against the banister next to him, still above him, still looking into the crimson orange light outside pouring in. His face felt hot as he realized how much of an ass he'd made of himself. Even though it was true, and even though deep down he believed in the myth, with an almost unsettling certainty at that, he still knew how ridiculous he sounded.

"I was too obviously," he lied, holding up the enormous blade in his right hand, "This is just for protection. There's some shady people out here sometimes. Anyways I can't believe you wandered this far out here alone." He really couldn't, in fact as calming as she was to be around he still couldn't shake the odd thought of her being out here alone without any sort of protection. The woods around the town had a lot of unexplored and dense area, a lot of people get lost every year and he suddenly recalled that he too, to an extent, was lost as well. Something was off, but even moreso, if she sensed the same presence he did than they very well may have been being chased.

By what though?

He turned to the window, the same one she was staring out of so blissfully. The sun hadn't moved. In fact, time seemed almost frozen he realized. The sinking feeling grew as he began to gather that the sun hadn't actually moved at all since his journey's start into the woods. Here, now, it was etched in a sort of atmospheric stone; the world had stopped spinning and the air came to a creeping still.

"You're a bad liar. That's okay though," she said.

He could still feel her toothy grin looking at him through that mocking tone. Suddenly, he felt an odd and sharp pain in his temples, a sort of buzzing going almost in tune to the manor's silence. Reaching up he pinched his nose's bridge, "I don't need you to believe me. I do probably need to be getting home soon though." Realizing how much he wanted to get out of there, he figured it was time to speed this up and get out as fast as possible. He wanted to perhaps ask her to come along, but something in him kept him silent.

"You can't leave here yet!" she exclaimed, turning to him with a somewhat mortified expression, her blue eyes shimmering an eerie tone in the twilight, "The witch may be out there!"

"You said you didn't believe in any of that stuff!" He scoffed, looking over at the increasingly beckoning entrance.

"I don't, but it still isn't a good idea," she replied, taking a few steps down. He realized how close she was getting to him and froze up as she grabbed his cleaver-free hand. Her skin was cold, a cold he couldn't quite describe. His vision blackened and he saw the infinite blackness the witch crawled from; a withering and whispering husk that had emerged from the primordial chaos, a shade from the netherrealms dripping curses and blasphemous incantations. He could see insanely complex fractals and dark shapes churning in this ether, and in the moment he observed it he felt eons go by, universes fold and unfold in the eternal pulse that the very manor he was just in had breathed. He gasped and almost fell, the girl kneeling down with him. Such a phantasmagoric daydream, such an involuntary glimpse into the other-world, a peak onto the planes the witch herself may walk on.

"Are you okay?!" she said, putting her right hand on his face. It was soft, and it had an oddly warm touch to it – as if the cold he had just felt was imagined.

He couldn't speak, he could barely wrap his head around what he'd saw. Had he imagined it? Was any of that real at all? Where did it come from? She stared at him with a worry in her eyes that he was uncertain of. Was that from her?

"There's no way," he struggled out, trying to catch his breath, "That was really strange –" he stood up, her following suit, "I really should get going, I don't feel well and it's getting late." He was beginning to become more and more fearful, his paranoia climbing higher and higher with every breath he took, with every blink of her beautiful blue eyes. At this point he didn't care if she saw how uncomfortable he was, what he'd just experienced and what this place was he didn't want anything to do with. He turned and began heading down the stairs to finally leave.

"Wait! Please! Don't go out there. Please come up with me for a bit, I don't want to be here alone," she exclaimed heading down the stairs after him, a serious panic on her face. He silently turned, studying her face, looking for cracks, for holes in her foundation. It wouldn't be right to leave her there, or so he forced himself to remember. But he really had no interest in staying there in that death trap. The space was distorted, the air crooked; this place was beyond help.

"What? You came out here alone!" he quickly rebounded, "I-I'm leaving. I really need to go. Come with me," he said. They were face to face now, and he felt a sick dread at the almost overwhelming aesthetic perfection she had, her eerie beauty and all of its cryptic subtleties.

"I can't! I'm sorry. I want to explore just a little more. We won't get our memories taken. There's one more room I haven't seen yet and I don't want to do it alone," she replied, giving him a vaguely pouty expression. The sooner they saw it the sooner they could get out of there and away from this place. He could barely take the idea of actually going upstairs with her, of actually staying in there a minute longer, but he couldn't leave her there with that thing looking for prey, or whatever the hell was looming around the manor. The quicker he could get them out and onto the homeward path the better. He wanted to curse her for not bringing an extra weapon though.

"Fine. Quick. I want to get the hell out of here," he huffed, passing her and heading up the stairs. She was immediately next to him, and she eventually sped up as they reached the tops of the steps. She grabbed his hand once more and began leading them to a door tucked off to the upper level's left – to the entrance's left that is. He didn't have any visions this time thankfully, but his arm was unusually uncomfortable in her delicate grasp, which this time was the same warm her hands were on his face earlier. The air here was still the same, and the paintings and antiques littered or barely standing here or there reinforced the sullen and alone feeling this place so vented. Looking down into the foyer, so dimly lit in that soft daylight, he felt timeless for a second, everything somewhat blurred into the sounds of her soft footsteps on the ground. They had gone around the side path and ended up at the tucked in door, so contently and quietly resting alone. It looked off, but he couldn't see any actual structural issues with it. He briefly remembered the weird patterns and illusions the floor and other contents mesmerized him with earlier, once again recalling how warped this place truly was.

"Well here we are, the last room. What if the witch is in there?" she turned to him and snickered, no doubt trying to coax a response out of him. Still, the thought did frighten him, and he couldn't deny that he just may just turn and run if the witch did in fact turn out to be in there.

"Let's hope not," he mumbled, remembering he was armed – to an extent. Obviously it wouldn't have much of an effect on a witch; this whole thing wasn't planned out well at all it seemed.

She reached towards the door.

"Hey, what was your name again anyway?" he said, pulling her back. Unsettling enough he felt like he'd asked her already, or maybe she'd told him, yet he couldn't remember anything if so. He tried recalling bits of their meeting earlier, of the conversation that followed even; it all seemed so fuzzy and disconnected. She looked somewhat astonished he'd asked. Staring at him, she faintly smiled again. It seemed hollow, double edged in some aspect. He got a very uncertain vibe from it, and for a brief moment his heart sunk again. There was no reason not to trust her, but his body seemed to be doing what it could to repel from her. He must have been imagining it, but he couldn't honestly tell what was and what wasn't real anymore, at least not in that cursed manor. The walls enclosed a surreal reality that was suffocating them both and it was taking too long to leave.

Turning back to the lonely door she reached out and grabbed its handle. She was silent a moment, then softly she whispered,"It's Namine, remember that."