The Mimics

Chapter 5

My sleeping chamber was beautiful and organized, a circular dome filled with wide windows. It was one of the highest rooms in the entire tower. I walk into the room from the threshold, tentatively stepping forward into the room. Almost immediately, I collapse on the bed beside me, diving into the midnight blue covers. Absently, I gaze at the walls, new white paint glittering in the moonlight. There was a brown box beside my bed, closed. On it, a label said 'box for Celene' in a black marker. Curiously prying it open, a note was on top, written in neat handwriting.

As much as I despise you, Teckles insisted on passing on some clothes to you for your time here. Below this note, there are some pants, shirts, and boots. I have also provided a thigh-sheath (if you wish to wear) to keep your awful dagger in. Despite my kindness, we will never be friends. By the way, I suggest you wear this tomorrow if you want to fit in.

Sincerely,

Octavia

Giggling, I remove the note carefully and place it on my bedside table. Maybe I do have a shot at being friends with Octavia. Underneath, neatly folded, were two black crop tops, two skinny black pants, and a pair of boots, shiny and brand new. I am definitely not wearing an outfit like this.

I climb into bed, ready to fall asleep, until the mysterious word Zane had said to me drifts back into my mind.

Frontkeeper. What was that word? I drift into sleep, dreaming of Mimics and this terrifying world that will lead me to Tina.

*      *      *

I wake up in the room, filled with blooming light. My midnight blue sheets are piled up on top of me, crumpled and disorganized. Shaking myself out of bed, I silently trudge over to the window. The view was absolutely beautiful! There was a wide field, where Mimic hunters were already training, sparring . Beyond the field, a shiny lake resided, and mountains stretched onwards. Nobody was around the lake, probably because of the risk of the Mimics.

Speaking of Mimics, I glance at the box filled with the clothes Octavia lent me. If I'm here, might as well fit in with the hunters. Sighing, I grab the entire box and stalk into the bathroom.

The black crop top fits me perfectly, outlining my body shape. It is a little tight, and only comes up to my belly button, but I continue pulling the black sports pants on. The sports pants are skinny and slim, flattening to my skinny legs and defining my waist. I glance at the mirror, watching in awe how nice the outfit looks on me. Lastly, I buckle my thigh sheath on my thigh and slide into my lace boots, admiring the pretty look. I stare at myself in the mirror, knowing I am missing something important. My hair. It was messy bedtime hair, tumbling around me. I secure it in a pretty braid, sliding on a baby blue hoodie.

The stairs in the building were enormous, stretching from my room at the top, down to the main floor. I jog down the stairs, reaching the main hall. It was isolated, since it was six in the morning. Everyone's probably asleep. Suddenly, I hear noises coming from a room to my left, a grey coloured door, with a shiny silver doorknob. Too bad there aren't any signs.

Hesitantly, I slowly open the door, walking in quietly. Someone was grunting, and many hard thuds resounded through the room. Peeking around the corner, I see him. Zane, aggressively attacking a punching bag. His motions were fluid and precise, like he had trained for this his entire life. I step closer, watching his graceful motions help him flow around the bag, darting this way and that, stepping and attacking. His technique was mesmerizing, and he smoothly travelled back and forth, as if he weighed nothing, sending strong kicks to the bag. I continue walking closer, but he doesn't notice. His cat-like eyes are trained on the target. Focused, like he's trying to intimidate the punching bag. Beads of sweat trickle down his neck, but he gives it no care, like he doesn't feel it. His black locks flow around him like a halo, and he reminds me of angels you read in books. Except... he's in real life.