Traverse

Chapter 2: The Beginning

"Eimear, stop! Be still! You're killing our comrades! Eimear!"

The voice echoed in her mind as the scenery around her began to blur. She couldn't remember the faces of those she was fighting beside, nor the faces of those she had killed. Where was she? 

Who was she fighting for? Why did it feel so real?

Her eyes snapped open, her breath ragged as she gasped for air. Another night, another dream that felt far too real. She had this recurring nightmare, and no matter how many times she tried to forget it, the dream clung to her like an unwanted shadow.

"Why does it always feel so vivid?" Eimear whispered to herself, rubbing her eyes as she sat up in bed.

She glanced at the clock—it was still early. The soft light from the early morning sun filtered through the veranda, casting a warm glow across her room. She swung her legs off the bed, her feet landing on the cold wooden floor, and sighed heavily.

"Maybe if I stare at the sky long enough, I'll get some answers," she muttered under her breath, pushing the heavy curtains aside.

She walked to the balcony, opening the door, and leaned against the railing. The plaza below was already alive with movement—children playing, people chatting, and the sweet melody of laughter carrying through the air. But in the quiet of the morning, Eimear's mind was somewhere else, still haunted by the dream.

Her grandmother had always dismissed it as nothing more than a nightmare. But Eimear knew better. It felt like a warning, like someone was trying to tell her something. But who? And why was it always the same person, the same place?

Suddenly, the door creaked open behind her. Eimear turned around to find Malorie, her twin sister, standing in the doorway, looking amused.

"Lost in the sea of thoughts again, Eimear?" Malorie asked, crossing her arms.

Eimear gave her a sheepish smile. "Forgive me, milady. The sky is calling me."

Malorie raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "You know I hate it when you call me that," she said, shaking her head.

Eimear chuckled, teasing, "What? Can't a sister call her twin 'milady' once in a while?"

Malorie scowled, though her lips betrayed her with the faintest smile. "Enough with the teasing. We're leaving soon for the tour, so get ready."

Eimear sighed, but she didn't argue. "Alright, alright. I'll be down in thirty minutes. Tell them I'll be there."

Malorie rolled her eyes but smiled as she walked out of the room. "Don't take too long, Eimear. Grandma won't wait for anyone."

"Noted," Eimear called after her, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips.

She quickly went about getting dressed—shorts, a belt, rubber shoes, and her oversized sweatshirt. It was the perfect mix of comfort and style, something that didn't require much thought. Once she was ready, she stepped out onto the veranda again, gazing down at the plaza. 

The Anniversary of their great ancestor's death was being celebrated today, a festival that Grandma insisted be a joyous occasion.

"Em, where are you?" Malorie's voice echoed from downstairs.

Eimear snapped back to reality. "Coming!" She hurried down the stairs, her thoughts still lingering on the dream. The mansion they lived in—the Archduchy Doford Mansion—had been transformed into the Museum of World Culture. Though Eimear had grown up in the grand halls of the mansion, she'd never quite explored all its secrets.