It was dark and cold. That was the only feeling that Isabel noticed. She couldn't see where she was, but she was alone. She knew this from calling out a few times, only to have her voice answer her in an eerie echo. Pulling her robes more tightly around her small frame, she reached out a hand to feel a moist wall… made of stone from the feel of it. Cautiously, she brought herself to a standing position.
"Hello?" She called out again, only to answer herself once more. Holding her head down, she began to grow angry. She hated not knowing where she was… she hated not being in control. The stillness of the room began to lift up. Chills, not from the cold, but from knowing that she was now, not alone, began to run up and down her back. Getting a grip on her fear, she called out once more. "I find this game least amusing… who is here?" A faint voice, that sounded so far away, yet strangely near her whispered a word… A word of magic perhaps.
"Shirak" A small orb of light appeared across from her, then grew bright, showing the details of the room that she was in. Squinting her eyes to adjust to the light, she looked around to see books aligning the walls, all dusty and neglected. Old jars filled with liquids and body parts of certain specimens that were long dead. She brought her attention to the speaker and saw a thin figure. Body covered in long black robes that appeared to be made of the finest material with golden ruins imprinted on the hems. The only part of the body that showed was a thin hand, the hand that was clasped tightly around a long wooden staff, on top of the staff rested an orb… the orb was the giver of light that she had been yearning for.
"I would find such a game least amusing as well… but of course, you are not in a game." The mysterious cloaked figure answered in a raspy voice. Reaching up her hand, she brushed her hair from her eyes. She studied the figure, the hand… the hand was a golden color! No… it couldn't be… Was this some type of joke? The figure looked like her father... Not by memory of course, but by the descriptions she had picked up from her Uncle. But her father was dead. What cruel prank was this?
"Then exactly what is it then?" She asked in a voice that held little amusement, but was thick with mockery.
"In time dear child…"
"What is that suppose to mean?" Isabel hissed. The figured began to move slowly towards her. She stood her ground, hiding her fear. Another thin hand, equally golden with long fingers, reached out and grabbed her wrist. Isabel cried out at the burning sensation.
"Your destiny…" Pulling her arm back with her body weight, she lost her balance and began to fall. She braced herself to meet the concrete… but it never came. She looked up as she began falling into what seemed like a bottomless pit, staring up at the hidden face of the person she was once talking to. The robe figure turned around after Isabel was no longer in sight. Reaching up a hand, the hood was drawn back, revealing a beautiful woman… a god… Takhsis. "Your destiny as well as mine dear child…"
