The Wolves ✓

19; helping hand

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Freya couldn't feel her legs or arms as she regained consciousness. Her head was heavy and the room was blurry. It was a while before the room finally stopped spinning around.

"Wh- what?" she stuttered, realising that she had been tied down to some sort of table. She desperately tried to move her wrists but the leather around them was tied firmly. Attempting to raise her legs, she kicked at the table but it was of no use.

"She's awake," she heard someone say.

"Where am I?"Freya's feeble voice echoed in the room.

There was no reply as Freya tried to look around the dimly lit room. Red candles sat together by one corner, each one of them lit up and the flames, unwavering.

"Breathe child," the voice was different this time.

"Where am I?" Freya repeated, fearful of what was going on.

"You are safe with us," the voice said as Freya stared at the ceiling, trying to recognise the voice.

Madamé Cordelia stepped out of the shadows, her head draped by a black hood. She looked ominious in the way she was dressed. The room suddenly felt more grim and Freya's heartbeat began to race.

"What are you going to do to me?" Freya asked, her eyes wide with fear.

"We aren't going to do anything, you are," she replied.

"What?" she asked, bewildered.

"I need you to relax and look at the mirror by your side," she said, inching closer.

Freya stuttered, no longer sure if it was because of the cold or if she was going to faint again. Turning her head the other way, she spotted a mirror on the wall beside her. It looked like an ordinary mirror at first, the delicate design on the frame looked old but was still elegant nevertheless.

Freya still felt drowsy, the effect of the tea still in her system as she stared at the mirror.

"Let me go," Freya begged, weakly. "Please."

"If that is what you wish, you must allow yourself to open up. Breathe and calm your mind, it will all be over soon and then...

You'll be free."

Freya blinked, a tear falling from her eye and rolling on to the cold stone table. She stared at the mirror, her breathing turning more shallow by the minute.

She saw something flicker in the mirror, something wavering across her reflection. The image on the mirror began to change and she could feel other people begin to surround her on the table.

The witches were reciting something like a verse in a foreign language. The words soon became difficult to differentiate between, amalgamating into a sort of chanting. They held hands and the atmosphere of the room began to change.

Freya could no longer see her own reflection but instead someone else had appeared. She couldn't tell who it was at first but when the image came into focus and after a while of blankly staring at the face, Freya recognised the familiar face.

She was looking at Mrs. Jones.

Impossible, she thought.

"Heather, my sister," Cordelia said.

Freya's blood ran cold.

Heather looked back at Cordelia and then at Freya. "I knew you would return to resurrect me," she said, her voice slightly muzzled.