The Pursuit of Equilibrium

Mountain Peaks

The pendulum of the antique wood-paneled Burgundy clock swung back and forth. A soft ticking filled the room. And yet it seemed to her as if time stood still. Clotted blood, like cold sweat, adorned the pale, lifeless body at her feet. Empty, impassive eyes, extinguished was the fire that once burned so warmly in them.

An uneasy feeling arose inside her, climbed the path from her abdomen over her lungs, took her breath away, and lay on her chest like an oppressive shadow. She heard her pulse start racing, her heart beating incessantly, each anxious beat chasing the next. Her hands began to tremble, and she surrendered to the weakness that forced her to her knees. Tears clouded her vision and gradually fell from the tip of her eyelashes to the floor until her face felt hot and wet.

A pitiful cry escaped her mouth, but it only fell on deaf, dead ears. No one would rush to her aid since the disaster had already been done. No magic in the world could ever bring back the dead, she knew that. Realization loomed like a dark cloud over her existence. A darkness that she would never be able to leave behind from that moment on.

"Miss Darque. Miss Darque... please." A nervous, quickening voice penetrated her consciousness. "Please, wake up..."

Bony fingers closed around her forearm and Cassandra startled out of the obscurity. She supported herself with both hands on the soft surface of her mattress. She gasped; it seemed so real to her. But it always felt so real. She regularly struggled with nightmares and this night had been no exception.

"Miss Darque?" It squeaked again to her left, this time with caution in its speech.

Cassandra ran her palms through her sweat-soaked hair before turning to the familiar voice. Two pointed ears, large eyes, and the worried face of Alfie the house elf peeked over the edge of her bed.

"Everything is fine, Alfie," she answered shortly and tried to calm her pulse with regular breaths. "Nightmare," she admitted curtly and pulled the silk duvet over her lap. She must have been tossing and screaming in her dream, otherwise the house-elf would not have appeared uninvited in her bedroom.

"Miss, shall we wake up your grandmother?" the elf asked worried and his blue googly eyes looked at her attentively.

"That won't be necessary, Alfie." She answered him promptly and waved him away.

Her grandmother must not think that her granddaughter is afraid of the shadows in her dreams. She was quite embarrassed that she was still dreaming of that night that had happened so many years ago. The events that happened in the past had already occurred and were irreversible. There was no point in indulging in these memories, neither the good nor the bad ones. It enraged her that her subconscious probably perceived it differently, that she could not forget the horrendous images.

But this was her personal struggle. The constant quarrel between her common sense and her nonsensical subconscious.

No reason to bother her grandmother. At least no more than that she was already informed anyway. The walls of the estate were thin, and the staff tended to gossip. She rolled her eyes in disgust and let out a contemptuous sigh. It didn't help, she wouldn't find any rest, let alone sleep, that night.

Lost in thought, her delicate fingers glided over the smooth material of her blanket. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Alfie, devoted as ever, was still standing quietly beside her bed. She sighed again.

"Alfie, I'm fine. I request you to return to your quarters." she turned her upper body and looked at the little elf with a serious expression before continuing, "And please, keep it to yourself. We don't want my grandmother to have to worry about me. No more than she already does."