I find myself at an interesting impasse. Those that lie before me strike images into me of those whom I have long loathed, yet I feel nothing but sadness for some reason. I thought I had found it within myself to hate, to despise, yet now, looking at this familiar stranger, I find myself returning to an old sense of loyalty. No, not loyalty, perhaps it would be better described as nostalgia, a love lost. One in particular I find myself dwelling on, watching the movements of a stranger inside the mind of another and having myself brought back to places I had long driven out of my memory. Love lost, not love forgotten, can I not even find solace in resentment?
Books. A warm light floods the hall of books, creating dancing shadows from flickering fire. Shelves towered up to the high ceiling, all filled with nameless books. Ladders lean against the cases, allowing the high shelves to be reached.
In the center of the thin hall sits Star, surrounded by loose papers and toppled books, the shelve to her left having been made bare. Groaning out, she rubs her head as blood pumps and throbs through it. She rises, pushing a few tomes off of her body. As she looks down, she finds herself in her normal attire, the teal dress looking gloomy in the dull candle light. The light sound of turning pages glides through the quiet air.
Star stands up slowly, her body aching, feeling tender, as if she had been bruised. She takes a step, but falters, a hand catching a shelf for support as her world begins to spin, nausea beginning to overtake her. The jarring vertigo subsides after a moment, but leaves her knees weak and shaking. She keeps tight grip on the shelf as small claps against the hard stone signals her slow, plodding progress forward towards the source of light down the hall. Her feet were like stone, her body heavy and she didn't understand why. Even if she had crashed into that shelf it wouldn't do something like this to her.
She rounds a corner into a large, circular opening. The area adorns itself with small round tables, each with a center candle. Books lie open, as if their readers had left very suddenly, save for one table. Sitting with a stack of books as high as he was tall was Seeker. His Ivory hands shone like lamps in the light, though his face still seemed to hide in a book. "I suggest you sit," he says slowly, his voice apathetic and calm, "I doubt you can stand easily right now."
Star makes her way slowly towards the table, eyes locking onto the figure. Her hands fall. Onto the back of a chair, which slips and tumbles to the ground. Plummeting with it, Star finds her shoulder cracking into the hard floor with a crash, the wind being knocked out of her.
"I told you to sit," Seeker says, raising a hand to right both Star and the chair, setting the girl down gently into it. He beckons with his finger, dragging the chair smoothly across the floor until it sits across from him. "You need to rest," he says coldly, "your mind is suffering."
Star breaths heavily, finding herself unable to keep breath, no matter how hard she tried, as if she had just ran a marathon. "What," she pants out, a tightness gripping her chest, "does that even mean."
"I wasn't expecting this," he says, ignoring Star's inquiry altogether, "The tale being told is not one I would have figured. I seem to have complicated the narrative to the point where it sees that such a flagrant action as the ideal course of action." He turns, placing the book into one pile before bringing another to his face, maintaining concealment of his features.
"Can you answer my question," Star says, head lying back into the hard wooden chair, chest heaving slowly. "I feel like I've just been bucked off a unicorn."
"The short answer is that you're being attacked," he said, "and there is little I can do about that save for preventing the outcome. Unfortunately, that also means you'll be here until he gives up or tires himself out. That also means that this process is going to be a prolonged and painful one."
"You still aren't answering my question," she says, a twinge of annoyance in her voice.
"I've told you enough that you can figure the rest out. It isn't my fault that years of monster fighting have rendered you dense." Star raises an eyebrow at him. "Your life," he says in a rather disinterested tone, "reminds me of another girl I once met. Makes me wonder exactly who you are. I suppose I should make clear that I mean who you will be. Will you be the queen you were meant to be? A general, perhaps, a fierce warrior? Or will you die a beast, slave to the highs of blood? Perhaps you might even be a god? No one can tell. Even a weaver of lies sometimes tells the truth, 'nobody can see the future'."
"Stop babbling," she breathes out, sitting up to look over the books before her. She opens one slowly, beginning to read. It spun a familiar tale, her own. "What are these?" She says, pushing it away, her body to tired to muster enough surprise.
"They are you in word," he says slowly. "You aren't particularly bright, are you? I suppose I should know the answer to that. Take a moment and ask yourself where we are, be open to the truth."
Star looks around slowly, clutching her neck as a shooting pain runs up her body. The library was cold and desolate, only the two of them inside, yet at the same time the place seemed as if it were constantly in use. Even as she watched ladder's would silently roll about, tome after tome is fetched and quietly placed on boards before again being returned some time later. "We're in my mind?" She says, unsure of her answer.
"like a great-sword," he comments, "sharp, but clumsy." He looks up from his book, raven hair helping to keep his eyes hidden behind the pages. "You're right in any case. This is your mind, or at least a representation of it. My representation of it. The way it was originally was too noisy."
"How did you change how my mind looks."
"The question is wrong," he states coldly. "This is the visualization of the abstract idea of your mind. I only changed the symbols, the mind is the same. The answer to how I did that is simple, I am of greater will than you can possibly resist. Be glad I am of a generous mood, the last who had crossed my temperament lie asleep among my spawn, though, I will admit, that was a long time ago. Footsteps haven't been heard in my dwelling for longer than you've walked."
"Why do you enjoy speaking in riddles?" She asks, eyes roaming over is vague vistage, "and why do you hide? In Munnie there is a saying, 'only cheats hide their faces'"
"Aren't you being presumptuous,"
"I'm not presuming anything," she interjects. "I am not going to up and trust someone like you." She smiles a bit, "though I don't see it being much good if the worst is the truth." She gives a light laugh, "could hardly hold a finger against you."
Seeker looks for a moment. "It is wise to be untrusting," he finally says, "I hide my face for my own reasons."
"And what are those?"
"Shame," he says simply. "I no longer count myself among even the lowest of heathens, and if I were to be struck down as I sit here there would be no atonement and no mercy. I pray for a God so that I might one day be crushed by him."
"I would probably more concerned if it wasn't taking most of my energy to actually sit up straight right now." She sighs, pushing her head back and sulking into the chair.
"There is nothing here for you to be concerned about outside the task before us. You can trust that I have had a lot of time to consider my lot in life, though things of late have casted them into doubt." He stands, turning away from Star, raven hair swaying down to his waist, a ghostly hand resting behind his back. "Do you remember your last dream?"
Nodding slowly she answers, "of course. Given by the fact that you're back, I'll hazard to guess that it wasn't just a dream."
"Finally in the mood to actually think?" he says in a sneering tone. "You met yourself then, or at least parts of yourself. You must take steps to understand those parts. Concore those who stifle you, control those which seek to control you and let go of those which only weigh you down. Fear, Rage, Doubts, Passions and Pressures. Each characters in this little play you've created."
"I wonder what Marco would say about all of this." She chuckles, "probably start talking in phycologist terms."
"Let me make something clear," Seeker says with a dangerous tone, "this task will be what keeps both yourself and Marco alive. Right now I need you to do as I say. It is necessary that we get through this as quickly as possible. Each moment we waste puts the two of you further into the grave."
Star's eyes narrow at the man, "and how exactly do I know you're not the one doing this in the first place? It wouldn't be the first time I've met a sick mind."
The book in Seeker's hand slams down, his head bowed towards the table. "There are many things I am, but I assure you that I am not the danger here. Insisting on such a line of thought is a waste of time and energy, and one that I won't entertain."
"Then show me your face," she says breathily, "show me your face and I'll go along with your plan."
"No," he says, "there are more reasons than I care to count as to why I loath the thought. of it."
"Or you're a scoundrel," Star responds, "and one who's threatening Marco's life." She glares at him, "which means that there won't be anything stopping me from protecting him."
Seeker laughs, clutching a hand to his face, and looking up. "You truly do remind me of someone I once knew. I think you would have been fast friends." He lets out a long sigh, "fine, you can see my face, but I warn you that this might complicate things greatly." He lowers his hand, revealing a vestige of pale skin and red eyes. A thin, girlish face with a long nose, a face which Star had already met, adorned him.
"You were there," she says slowly, "before I fainted." Her hands grip as she starts to get up, "so you were hiding your face because you really did do this to me." She staggers out of her chair before a force pushes her back into it.
"While your observation is certainly astute, it's incorrect. The man you saw was nothing more than a shadow. A reflection of a man long since dead, in a story which has already reached its conclusion. You're just re-reading the annals of history with your own eyes and ears."
"Then why do you look just like him?" Her eyes linger on his face. It had an ingrained hardness set into it, despite his soft features, the eyes steele and full of grief.
"There is more than one meaning of death." He sits back down and sighs, "we should begin. We have squandered enough time as it is and the attacks against you seem to be lightening."
"That's news to me," she says with a bit of a groan, "I don't feel any better."
"A tender bruise takes time to heal, as will the wounds that have been inflicted to you here. In any case, we shouldn't let any more of your time here goes to waste. You and Marco will live and die by your will." He sighs, "speaking of the other. Do not mention this to him, it will only put him in danger and it would be distracting if I had to shield him along with you. Let me make this clear, if you tell Marco you put him in unnecessary danger. Out there you must act as if nothing were wrong, as if the time we spend here didn't exist. If he learns something he shouldn't know he'll go through what you're going through right now."
Star scowls, taking a moment to think about Seeker's warning. "He should know what's going on at least."
"And he will, after you do your duty and rescue yourself and him, but for right now him knowing only convolutes the narrative."
Giving a long sigh, she relents, "fine. I will listen to you for now, but if it turns out that you're lying to me about any of this, I won't hesitate to erase you."
"It's unwise to use a person's dream as a threat," he says in a calm tone. "In any case, there would be nothing you could actually do to kill me. Trust me, I've tried." He stands up, the books lying about him starting to float with him. Flying off, the tomes situate themselves back into their shelves all across the grand library. "In any case, I think it's time for you to face your first trial."
"Which would be?" Star says, starting to move with a bit more freedom. Her body still ached, but it no longer felt like she was being battered from all sides.
"Your doubts. All the questions you ask yourself, all the answers you give. All your trepidations, all that holds you back. You must master your doubts, act decisively. Your doubts are a tool. They move as warnings, pauses for consideration, but your's, like they do among so many, have started to take rule over you, instead of you ruling over them."
"My doubts don't rule me," she says, "I'm confident in myself."
"As a general rule you'd be correct, but think about why you're even in this situation with me. You acted on your self doubt. You defied them, forced them aside in a vain attempt to prove your strength. Brash action is just as much a consequence of doubt as timidity and mildness. You struggle and you fight not because you're confident, but as justifications for themselves. Not doing something is admitting you can't, so you try. You act recklessly because you're afraid of failure."
"Shut up!" Star interjects, but Seeker has no intention of doing so, his speech moving on without missing a beat.
"And behind all that. Behind all that bravado, that adventure, that steel. All that hides her." Stepping to the side, he reveals the a figure of Star. Her dress faded and stained, her hair messy and unkempt, her eyes, her milky white eyes hollow and empty. Those eyes pierced through Star, sending a shiver down her spine and a chill into the room.
Star breaths out, her breath a white fog, a dribble of sweat rolling down her face. "You're my doubts?" She says as her empty double takes a seat where Seeker once sat.
"I am what becomes of those fears you push away." She says, her mouth never moving. "You act strong because you hate where you are weak, you act fearless because you're afraid they will overtake you. You lie sleepless in the night because of your failures to protect those you love."
"You're wrong, I can protect them, I have been."
"You know that if you weren't around then Marco never would be in danger in the first place."
"Shut up now!"
"Star," Seeker interjects. "You're just acting like you always do. She speaks truths that you reject. Those that accept them without thought lose themselves, those who deny them become blinded by them. You must sift for the truth among them."
Gritting her teeth Star looks back to her tainted reflection. A long moment passes, the two merely looking over the other. "You're right. I am afraid. Who wouldn't be. I put both me and Marco in danger by coming here. I put him in danger every day, but he knows that. I offered to leave, but understanding that he welcomed me." She smiles wearily, "he's just nice like that. I do act on my fears. I try to hide them, make sure nobody knows. I have to be the strong one, because most of what goes wrong is my fault." A small tear rolls down her face before she wipes it, steeling her expression. "But I also seek out danger, try to find the next challenge just to say I did it. Just to prove that I can do it. I can't say that I won't do that any more, I'm not certain a change like that is even completely possible, but I see what you are. I see exactly what you do, no, what I do with you, and I have to at least try to move beyond that." She stands up from her chair, taking a sharp breath and extending a hand out to her double.
Doubt looks at her dismissively. "Heart warming, but speech makes no change." She stands as well, turning and beginning to walk into the shadowy library.
Star watches and lowers her hand, "what was that?"
"Resolve is all well and good, but it means nothing if it isn't backed up. I introduced you to doubt first because I fear she will be the hardest for you to overcome." He shrugs, "but, alas are times seems to be coming to a close. It's time for another dream to begin."