Footsteps clapped frantically across the floor, somewhere behind her. The movement sounded like it was just beyond a door and echoed like the room was vast — a hallway, perhaps. The room carried a heavy moisture that she could smell even through the thick bag placed over her head. She was sure she'd been taken somewhere in the castle. Somewhere that wasn't maintained. Somewhere that had been so neglected that nobody would even consider finding her there. Around her, she could hear the soft clicking and light, instinctive screeches of the infected.
It took a great amount of control to keep herself planted in one spot. She knew they were under the control of one, greater spirit, but her human instincts continued to scream at her, begging her to run.
But she would not.
The monsters stole her, rather than immediately killing her. They knocked her out, put a bag over her head and moved her to an unfamiliar location. That meant they were taking orders, but from who? She didn't know. One thing she was sure of though — a Darkspirit was not smart enough to orchestrate this.
Then, a door opened somewhere behind her. There were many footsteps that moved in a crescent around her. Their steps were weary, careful and gave her a wide berth. This told her that these were humans — and better — that they were terrified of the monsters that surrounded her.
She tried to gauge how many footsteps there were.
Ten? She thought. Eleven…twelve…thirteen...?
Too many to count.
But as each pair of legs found their spot, it became apparent who were the most important.
She could hear the self-importance in their steps the moment they entered the room.
There were three of them.
One pair of steps were heeled, and almost certainly that of a young woman. Her footsteps were the loudest but carried significantly less weight than the other two, like someone with an inferiority complex.
The quietest of the three sounded like they belonged to a man. His steps were quiet, but heavy and she thought she could hear the distinct sound of cracking ligaments, as if this was someone who was tall, and had worn their body down over the years.
And the last — she couldn't tell if this was a man or woman. The steps were wide and steady, belonging to someone tall, and confident. This person moved with a particular arrogance that set her nerves on edge the moment they entered the room. The other two followed behind this person. It was as if their steps moved to the beat of this person — this leader.
The footsteps sounded like they moved up several steps and then topped a few feet in front of her.
Then —
WHOOOSH.
The bag was ripped from her head, unveiling the space to her.
She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dim, highly contrasted light in the room. And when her sight refocused, she scoffed, the scene disgustingly familiar to that of the Star Court.
In front of her, three cloaked, hooded figures of variable sizes stood upon a natural stone platform. The room was dark, save for a few scattered, lit candles. She thought she was still at the castle, but she began to realize that perhaps she was very, very wrong.
Their cloaks were made of a light, airy fabric that swayed with even the slightest movement, but it was their masks that triggered her memory.
Instead of pillars, like the Star Court, their masks were signified by animals.
The smaller one that stood to the left wore a mask like a ram, with carved horns, twice the size of her head, that curled back around her. The tallest of the group, surely a man with shoulders that broad, wore a mask like a lion — mid roar. But the artistry in the carving twisted its features, as if it were an animal possessed.
Then, the single, malevolent clap of hands forced her gaze to the middle — to the leader. She knew instantly that this person — no — this villain, was most certainly a woman. Her mask was a tentacled chaos in the likeness of a cephalopod[1] of some kind. The tentacles spread across the peak of the front of the mask, where a mouth should be, curling and twisting, like a trick of the hand. As if the direction each arm reached was veiled by a new arm — a new direction.
"Lady Twelve!" Her voice boomed, a mix of amusement and viciousness. "I wasn't expecting to meet with you so soon, but what can I say…"
She took a half-step forward, leaning over to peer down at Twelve.
"I was simply dying to meet the person who nearly foiled my plans."
But what struck Twelve, more than the intricacy of the mask itself, was the void that set in the smooth face. The lack of humanity in the empty carving set with distinct red orbs that gazed into her, as if her gaze had tentacles of their own, reaching deep into her psyche, unveiling every shadow she'd accumulated over nearly two hundred and fifty years.
Twelve's breath shuddered with terror, though she willed herself to calm. She wanted to avert her eyes, but something in those eyes like crimson voids refused to let her escape.
The Stranger stepped forward again, unblinking.
"You see Lady Twelve," she began, her words slow like molasses, "you simply know too much. We haven't even begun and you've already figured out that I can't use the Dreamstone how I'd like because I'm human," she smirked beneath her mask. "Well, mostly."
She stood straight, descending the steps, yet never removing her gaze from Twelve's. "You figured out my magic and worse than that, you figured out why I need them to peer into the Dreamstone."
Twelve stared back into those haunting orbs that approached her and as she gazed into her eyes, she realized something had begun to materialize around the mask of this girl. Her eyes began to change color, rapidly warping and humming as she peered into Twelve.
"And I feel as though that is just too much knowledge for one person to have."
Twelve gritted her teeth. She knew she had to do something, now face to face with such a villain. She knew she could not fight her. But she thought perhaps she could outsmart her.
"So, I'm here because you're afraid," Twelve said, holding her gaze.
The humming stopped abruptly.
"Excuse me?" This Stranger scoffed.
There, Twelve thought.
Twelve knew she was afraid. Not just because she figured out their intentions, but that she could figure out who they were because she knew their intentions. Twelve knew there wasn't just one 'Stranger'.
"You heard me," Twelve continued. "You're afraid that I've already figured you out. You're afraid I already know what you're after. And you know what? I think I just might know who you are. I think I know who the Stranger behind the mask is."
The Stranger held her, their noses nearly touching. She paused, gazing into Twelve, when suddenly, her gloved hands caressed Twelve's face softly as she chuckled.
"I suppose you're right," she whispered. Twelve's stomach dropped at the distinct amusement she heard in the Stranger's voice. "I am afraid." Her grip tightened around Twelve's jaw. "And I'm so glad you've confirmed that I need to do this."
Before Twelve understood what was happening, she was already caught in the Darkspirit's tentacled grip of shadow, digging deep into her mind.
"I wish it didn't have to be this way," she whispered as the shadow forced itself into Twelve's mind.
Twelve cried out, not from pain but from the sheer invasiveness. She was digging through her mind for information. Images flashed through Twelve's mind — memories. Maren. Cora. The Star Court. The Dreamstone. The Starblessed that have passed. The Darkwoods. Lexi.
"Ah," the Stranger gasped, pausing at her memories of Lexi. "Interesting. But…these aren't the memories that need to go."
Her fingers wrapped through Twelve's hair as she kept her locked in place. "I'll need to dig a bit deeper. I'm very sorry, my Lady. The older the memory, the worse it will feel. And your memories..." She chuckled, "well let's just say I've never had to reach so far."
Suddenly, the tentacles forced themselves deeper in her memories, splitting Twelve's mind into pieces. Her eyes begged to roll back as she let out a cry like nothing she ever had before, but those eyes of this Stranger kept Twelve rooted in place, awake for every invasive, cruel moment.
Even when she lost consciousness, limp at the will of this person, Twelve could not escape the Stranger's seizing gaze. For over two hundred years, she had kept the secrets of the Empire safe within her mind.
And for the first time in history, someone was ripping them out of her.
[1] For anyone who doesn't know, a cephalopod is a class of marine animal, like an octopus, squid or, in this case, a cuttlefish.