Well, it wasn’t quite finished, I thought with exasperation as I stood in front of it. One of the hands sat on the table next to it, and with a sigh, I fit the little metal piece into place.
Nothing happened.
I frowned, but then turned around—
Click.
A pause.
Tick,
Tock.
I spun around, eyeing the thing. Well, at the least Talon should be happy that I started his clock when he came back from . . . wherever he was.
And then the clock faded into black and white . . . expanding, overtaking the walls, the floor, me.
Tick,
Tock.
My heart pumped black and white. Not red like it used to. Not resentment. Not love. Nothing but the silence I heard during death. It was the most welcoming quiet I’d ever hear.
I turned around to see Talon, dressed not in the commoner rags he’d worn, but in a costly black jerkin and pants. His long hair was pulled half up, the light in his eyes, mad.
A little inkling of . . . something was working its way into my head, but the silence, the darkness, quietly pushed it back down. Rightfully so. I didn’t like it.
The wall behind Talon blinked, before morphing into a palace hall of black and white, to a dais where three chairs sat.
“Welcome home, Sister,” he said.
Sister . . .
He didn’t mean witch.
That inkling tickled, but it was quickly squashed as I walked to the wall. Without hesitation, and the biggest sense of right, I took a step out of Symbia and into the Shadows of Dawn.
My gaze ran to the black and white stoic faces surrounding the large hall, their eyes following me down the aisle.
I walked up the steps, and sat down in one of the thrones, crossing my legs.
Tick,
Tock.
The ticking sounded in my head like a persistent bug. I wanted it out. Knew what it was. Because you see, the well showed me all of this.
Me, sitting in this chair.
I saw myself count to three.
“One.”
I saw the land thrown into chaos.
“Two.”
And I saw my indifferent expression looking back.