FALTER

CHAPTER 11: Charisma.

Willow pushed through the door.

The crack of light now entering from behind him was the only source of illumination in the room beyond. As Willow pressed the door open further, he caught the person sitting in the lavish, plush black chair turn his glare away from the door to face the window. The only thing visible in the shroud of darkness now was the back of the armchair and the tuft of slicked back hair poking out from behind its silhouette.

The atmosphere of the room felt instantly heavy, but the awkwardness of standing in the door was worse than whatever was going to happen inside so Willow stepped in and moved to close the door behind him.

"You too, Absinthe."

 The voice seemed to have the coldness of a hundred winters. An almost silent yelp was all the indication Willow had of his friend's presence, who shuffled through the door in a panic. Only once they were both inside was the door allowed to close, leaving the 3 individuals inside in almost complete darkness. The only semblance of light came from the waning sun outside the central window, which extended the whole height of the room.

Willow couldn't stop his hands from shaking, but the sight of every atom in Synthia's body vibrating at different frequencies gave him a minuscule amount of motivation to steel himself.He let his eyes wander, hoping it fell on something, anything to distract him from the silence. The room was grandiose but cozy. Or well, it was designed to be cozy, but somehow all the warmth from it seemed to have been sucked out and all that remained was polished wooden furniture whose only purpose were to show off all the countless awards and certificates in full view. One of the numerous plaques on the wall sported the familiar motto, "Life is the ultimate obstacle in the way of Death"

The words which brought the two of them so much comfort during their most gruelling days now seemed as foreboding as their leader, who seemed to be purposefully extending the silence as his preferred way of punishment.

"I presume you're well." The assumption made Willow's skin crawl, but it was better than the eternity of quiet they had just powered through.

"Yes, sir," His voice was barely a hoarse whisper, which seemed to go unnoticed by the man in the chair, who continued gliding smoothly on his words.

"I've heard disappointing things, Willow, real disappointing. One of my people getting attacked right after we lose such a bright young spark from our family..."

"I-I'm sorry-" Willow could barely choke the words out before being interrupted by a raised hand, visible even in the gloomy darkness.

"Don't be sorry. I haven't blamed you and I never will. You're one of our best but... Well, see, I'm just intrigued. Have I not given everything? Is this not the most wonderful place to be? Much better than that positively drab city that we border. And yet, even after all this, that girl still left." A small pause, then a sigh. "Left."

A fire lit itself in Willow's heart as he suddenly felt a latent disgust towards Rachel rise up within him. She was a bright spark, that much was true, but she left. Left. And right now, that's all that described her character in Willow and Synthia's minds as their leader's mesmerizing words lead them down a new path of thoughts.