Darke Chronicles I: Where the Departed Come to Die

The Agreement

Alma stood in front of her mirror despite the fact that she would not see her reflection, these mirrors were backed with silver, like all the mirrors in the castle. She did not need a mirror. She knew that if she were to look into one, all she would see is a sad and hollow expression. This was the day her life would end. 

After today, she would have no freedom and no choice. Well, she never did but she was happy to live with the lie the Count had bestowed upon her as a human child he had plucked from the dangers of her village. 

She couldn't even remember that place anymore. Actually, she could slightly remember the trees and the grass, the animals and a few children laughing and running in a field. Alma had been a small child, quite sickly but with beautifully pale skin and wide eyes that sparkled when the light hit the irises in the correct manner. 

It had been a chore to find the perfect dress for her wedding day. She hated to wear dresses anyway but this one would have be up to her standards. If she was not allowed to pick her husband then she should at least be able to pick her own dress. Daniela had picked several but none of them were what Alma would call "satisfactory". They were either too fluffy, too big, too grotesque or too... too. Instead, Alma would wear a simple white garment with a few crystals scattered along the corset, the sleeves had fine detailing, swirls along the forearms, almost like cobwebs. The skirt was long but not too long, it had a train that would be dragged behind her but luckily not like a dead weight. It had several petticoats underneath to allow shaping that perfected her frame. Her veil was the last thing to be applied, with the help of Sélene. Her eyelids were tidily baked with black eyeshadow, her lips a ruby red. 

There was a polite knock at the door, Alma knew who it was by the pattern. 

"Come in,  Sélene." Alma said softly. 

 Sélene wandered inside, dressed in a smart blue dress, her signature colour. Her hair was draping the sides of her face rather than its usual updo. She was happy for Alma this day but she knew, deep down in her heart, she could not be truly delighted. 

"You look beautiful," she pecked her cheek, "mon bel ange."

"Nunca he estado tan triste. No te mentiré, mi amor." Alma sighed, putting a hand to her own face. Sélene stood behind her, adding some finishing touches to her hair. "We still have a chance to run." 

"We cannot." Sélene frowned, biting the inside of her cheek. "You and I are bound by responsibility. 

"Then let us forget responsibility." Alma laughed, "We could run and begin our own lives. We could have our own home, children, love without punishment." 

"I would love that." Sélene sighed at the idea, it was a most wonderous idea. "Toi et moi savons que partout où nous irons, il nous trouvera."

Alma hated to admit it but  Sélene was correct. They would never be able to go far without being dragged back to this infernal place.  Sélene was right in another regard, they both had duties which would always empower their feelings towards one another. 

 Sélene stroked her hand along her neck, she loved the touch of Alma's skin. So soft, so supple, even for being in a state of death. 

"We better go."  Sélene whispered. "The wedding is supposed to being soon, in the courtyard of course." 

Alma just nodded. It was the only thing she had energy for.  Sélene took a hold of her train and helped her to descend her tower. It was funny to think that it would be her last night to spend in her ancestral home. She had spent centuries here and all of a sudden she would find herself in a new and unfamiliar destination. She felt nauseous at the thought.