All's Fair in Revenge

Chapter 57: Death

Sometime later, in a room overflowing with shadow, I find myself waking and waiting. It's boxy and darker than night like the depths of a cave. However, on the floor awaits a puddle crisper than any seasonally cold lake, a mirror from another world. In it I see half of me. A healthier, fuller me. The other half is veiled in lacy shadow, everlasting and I have the strangest inclination to taste the puddle, to open my mouth and drink for I am so thirsty. I tug at my throat. It's so dried its cracking. I watch jagged fault lines crinkle my esophagus like teacup dropped on the floor.

Hello Hana, my reflection speaks to me and it's the voice in my head finally returned. I wish to respond. My throat won't allow me.

No need to say anything, my reflection says. I know all. I know you are thirsty, and I know your first inclination is to stay far from the pool. Not to trust it. I'm not her to dissuade you, only to warn. It may not seem like it, but you have two choices before you: to drink or not. There is power or there is peace. There are truths or there are blissful lies; neither guarantees happiness, neither guarantees freedom. Both sides will break your heart.

What does the peace look like?

I do not know. I chose power.

I tear myself from my reflection for a moment to test my sight in the nightmarish room. When I return, the other Hana is gone. How am I to know what to choose? How can I even be sure what, or who, to trust?

Both are foolish questions; ones I already know how I'll answer.

The puddle silently sings to me, coaxing me closer, encouraging me to sip. And because I have nothing left to lose, I do. Despite my own mind telling me it's a trap, a trick, a ruse—I drink it. I lower myself to it, press my lips to the cool silver, and drain it.

It takes little more than a second to kick in.

All at once, I am void and chaos. I am sun and moon. I am water and fire. I am and I am not. And? And I am still, mercifully still. Oily magic, thick like night, sparkling like the stars emanates from me, fills me, embraces. It's familiar and new all at the same time. I am weightless and heavy. I live. I don't know where or how or why, but I know I live.

Until I hear a voice.

"Hana..." It calls to me, stuffs me back into my body a bit. "Hana, it's time to go."

But I don't want to go. I want to stay here.

"Hana...come on." The voice drags me to my feet by my wrists. I fight it, fight the shrieking pain it resurrects. "Hana, please."

I can't, Arin.

"Hana!" she screams, shrill and sharp.

Stop Arin, I say, and I am firm.

"Hana, get up!"

Let me go.

"You have to wake up, Hana!"

Leave me.

"Hana, you have to save me!"

I turn toward the voice. I can't.

"Hana! I need you!" I see a whisper of my sister, a blur of her form. "Hana," she says, kneeling before me, flickering, all here and there and not... "Hana, you have to run!" A sword appears. I brace myself. I know what comes next. I turn away.

The cold weight of steel chills my hands, startles me.

This isn't right. Something about this isn't right.

I hold the weapon with a shaky grasp. It rises without permission as though I'm a marionette. My arms rise, one yanks back her head, the other presses the blade against her neck. Tears well. My shoulders burn. I beg my body to obey, plead and bargain.

Stop. Stop. Stop, I cry. It doesn't listen. No one listens. With a single, fluid motion, blood spurts from her neck, her mouth; it runs from her eyes. Within seconds she's gone, yet so am I.