Last Light

Moth - II

As the Witch pushed open the large winged door, she had to muster all her strength. The wood, though weathered by age and the elements, remained solid and heavy. The rusty hinges squealed loudly, ivy vines tore under the movement that hadn't been carried out for decades.

The Witch stepped inside and surveyed her new surroundings: She found herself in a long columned corridor, its walls built of rough, gray stones. In stark contrast, the vaulted ceiling sections adorned with ornaments, the columns that supported them from below, and the large arched windows adorning the entire opposite wall, appeared. The weather-beaten, ivy-covered windows allowed only sparse glimpses outside; nevertheless, the Witch could discern a kind of promenade that apparently encircled a small courtyard, as she could see the same floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite and directly ahead hand.

The surroundings seemed deserted, yet the legends of the old Castle and its inhabitants were all too familiar to her. Too familiar to just stumble carelessly through the winding corridors. So the Witch closed her eyes. She relaxed, breathed calmly and shallowly, and - felt.
It smelled of damp stone, rotten wood, fungal coverings; it reminded her of the deep forest where she had spent most of her youth.
She continued to feel: a few steps away, moss covered the columns. Where a fallen pear tree had pierced a window from the courtyard, the nature could enter; alongside hibiscus blossoms and ivy, roses crept in and embraced part of the decaying furniture. Rats frolicked there, using the remnants of drawers as nesting places and feasting on pears.

The Witch's senses wandered further down the corridor. In the courtyard, mice scraped the cement from between two large stones, while a raven female had built a nest atop a pedestal and was hatching her eggs.
Her senses wander even further; beyond the courtyard, back inside the Castle, along the corridors and passages. There was a hall, gigantic, dark - 

An energy struck the Witch so suddenly that she flinched; her senses extinguished and she opened her eyes. What had she just felt? Fear, anger, vulnerability, fighting spirit, despair? The Witch wasn't sure, the aura was strange; the impressions it emitted in waves seemed strangely blurred and confused.

Resolutely, the Witch took one of the torches from the wall sconces and let her magic flow: She felt the wood in her hand, the fine indentations under her fingers and how the magic flowed into them, first as warmth, then as heat, through the wood, then into the pitch. A familiar tingling spread in her guts, her eyes briefly lit up and the torch ignited with a hiss. A moth startled from the surrounding shadows and scattered away.

The Witch set off and took a direct path in the direction from which she had sensed the strange aura, following the course of the columned corridor. A door; she opened it a crack, slipped through, and illuminated the adjacent corridor with the torch. Again columns, arched windows, decaying furniture as far as the eye could see.
The vibrations became clearer with each step, but at the same time more blurred; a play of flickering and extinguishing, giving and taking away.
Another door; the Witch passed through it and before her opened the hall. Mighty, unevenly shaped stones gleamed imperceptibly under the prevailing dampness and the glow of the torch. Columns merged into arcades, which carried balconies all around; projections and ledges were splendidly decorated, while under stone canopies stood rusty armors. The only light came from above: The ceiling was vaulted and consisted mostly of a round window hundreds of feet in circumference; a symbiosis of colored glass, lead, tin, and putty, impressively recounting the story of a human versus dragon battle, half destroyed by a crystal-like structure that had pierced the glass.
It seemed as if two differently sized, pale greenish-glowing rock formations had pushed out of the hall floor next to each other and turned into crystal, intermingling fragmentarily and frozen in time at that moment; cylindrical projections rose diagonally around them like spearheads, while the larger stone threatened to dominate the smaller, it towered threateningly above it and enveloped it from the side with crystalline growths resembling claws. Remnants of floor tiles, stones, crystals, and colorful window glass floated weightlessly in the air, framing the formations in their midst, while from there a column of wavy crystal, in its form like a flickering flame, rose into the air, spread at the top of the window like a mesh of cobwebs and held whole parts of the destroyed window in its grip and thus secured it from falling. A portion of the massive cluster blocked the main staircase of the hall, which led to the upper floor, having claimed steps, columns, balustrades, and candle holders.

Despite its rigidity, the whole thing radiated a vitality that the Witch couldn't resist. As if spellbound she took a step closer. She felt the vibrations intensify, so much so that the emotions were almost tangible; something that could be taken and held. They emanated from the smaller stone, the Witch turned to it, its surface shimmering in the torchlight. With her hand, she brushed aside the shards and pebbles floating in front of her in the air; they floated away, collided with other weightless splinters and stones, creating a chain of movements and sound. The Witch stepped in front of the structure, pulled off her woolen glove with her teeth from her left hand and touched the surface.
She felt the coldness of the stone under her fingers and was suddenly enveloped by emotions; so intense that it took her breath away. Her knees weakened, she was about to collapse, while her hand stuck to the stone, seemingly impossible to release. The feelings clouded her, penetrated her mind. The Witch felt like she was falling, trying to breathe, but it was as if her body no longer belonged to her. Flickering lights danced before her mind's eye, the feelings entangled her, held her tight, more and more. A warmth enveloped her, while the feeling of suffocation became more and more intense and made her internally despair; the sensations were as ambivalent as the emotions inside the stone, which she had sensed from afar and made her own with the touch.
The Witch tried to free her mind, to become clear, to move her body; at least her hand. The darkness inside stirred, crawled to the surface. The Witch felt it wanting to break out of her, but even it had no chance - 

Do something!

The shadow screamed, made its anger her own. Again, the Witch tried to break free, but her muscles failed the command, her mind moved further away; the feeling of falling became more powerful, although she still felt standing on her feet, still touching the stone.

Giving and taking, giving and taking - 

  »Thou shalt not do this!«