Lost in the Woods

Chapter 3: Won't You Join Me, Celine?

Celine's perspective

As I got used to the darkness I realized he was intimidatingly tall. But that wasn't the first impression I've had of him. Over time, I've come to believe that the first impression you form about someone - though not always entirely accurate - often reveals the most important truth about them. In that brief moment, you notice their strongest traits, the ones etched so clearly on their face they're impossible to miss. And as I stood there, staring at the man in front of me, one thought struck me: his face emanated evil.

His eyes, shadowed in the dim light, were hard to read, but I could feel their calculating gaze on me, sharp and cunning, like two bottomless black holes. The corners of his mouth lifted into a faint, sardonic smile as he swirled the wine in his raised glass, studying it for a moment before turning that unsettling gaze back to me.

"Won't you join me, Celine? he asked again, this time emphasizing my name. His dark brows lifted slightly, mocking me.

I chose to do what any sane person would. I ran.

Fear turned my legs into trembling sticks, barely capable of holding me upright, let alone carrying me to the door. But somehow, I lunged forward, grabbing the doorframe with both hands as if it might anchor me. My vision blurred, and the blue petals and golden leaves embroidered on the carpet seemed to split and ripple. A fragment of a school lesson surfaced in my panicked mind - how fear dilates blood vessels and slows the heart, leading to fainting.

Not now, I thought desperately.

I turned my gaze to the stairs and stumbled toward them, gripping the banister with shaking, sweat-slicked palms. The cold metal felt like ice beneath my fingers.

Something was off. The natural light that had filled the entrance hall earlier was gone, replaced by a warm, artificial glow - perhaps from a chandelier. The sloshing of water in my soaked sneakers reminded me of how precarious my footing was; every step felt like an accident waiting to happen. But fainting was still my biggest fear.

Looking back, I realize it was inevitable.

"This... this is not..." I whispered, slowing as I reached the landing. I glanced at what should have been the front door, only to see a row of tall, vaulted windows instead. Through the glass, a dark sky stretched out, speckled with pale stars.

I blinked, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. The wall where the door should have been now held five identical windows, perfectly symmetrical and framed by red silk curtains. Below them, the room stretched out in eerie perfection.

A huge chandelier dominated the ceiling, its crystal prisms casting warm light into every corner. The floor beneath me was black tile patterned with dark red rhombuses. The carmine walls were crowded with an unsettling array of furniture - low tables of dark wood, blood-red armchairs piled with mismatched pillows, and heavy chests topped with peculiar decorations. There were rusty suits of armor, statues, and even antlers adorned with red ribbons and dangling jewelry. Paintings in ornate gold frames cluttered the walls, their gilded edges gleaming like teeth in the chandelier's glow.

I felt my knees buckle. My shoulder slammed into the railing, and my body crumpled against the cold, unyielding floor. My head hit something hard, but there was no pain - just the dull realization that I was lying there, helpless.

I stared up at the chandelier, half-dreaming. From this angle, it looked like a bouquet of light, its crystals blooming into round, elegant shapes - white calla lilies, maybe. My thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the events that had led me here.