There was a blinding pain first. It permeated my entire being, spreading pulses of hurt with each breath. It seemed to be stemming from my head, though with each blink the sheer amount of agony made the origin impossible to locate.
I had never felt this much pain in my life. Not even when…Not even when what?
The pain flared again, forcing me to close my eyes and take slow, shallow breaths, hoping it would go away soon.
I was sitting somewhere. My back was pushed into an unforgiving surface, somehow cold, hard and squishy. It was as though someone had soaked wood for hours and then propped it behind me: wet but still solid enough to hurt.
Maybe because of my lack of movement or some act of God, the pain seemed to be retreating. Taking a steeling breath, I opened my right eye.
Then, my left.
I was in a room though, if it could be called a room anymore I was not sure. The wall in front of me had been entirely smashed through. Shards of glass and brick littered the floor and protruded from my feet, contributing to an ever growing pool of blood.
I had no shoes on. My feet were bloodied up to my knees. I was wearing some sort of smock, like the kind you'd expect an impoverished victorian child to wear.
Wait, what is a victorian child? Why do I know this?
The pain flared again. It was almost as though the pain was blocking me from remembering. In fact, I couldn't remember anything.
My name, my age, my entire life was like a chalkboard with the agony slowly wiping it clean until there was nothing but an empty canvas. Nothing to make me, me.
My breaths started coming out in fast puffs, my throat closing as panic surrounded me. I was somewhere with no idea who I was and no idea how to get home. I was covered in blood, barely moving as pain assaulted my every nerve.
Whose blood was this? Is it mine?
My head swam with questions as I slowly pushed myself upright, the pain conceding to my wishes and my feet settling on the rough floor. The glass hurt but it was nothing compared to what I was already experiencing. My head swam and my vision blurred as I attempted to understand what I was seeing.
I was in some sort of ruin. It could only be described as such now. Perhaps, some time ago, it was a great feat of mankind. Something that demonstrated how far civilization had progressed through its towering arches and stained glass windows. Now, it was in despair.
Rain crashed down, weathering the already ruined masterpiece. It pushed into the room, swirling with the blood in a devilish dance, tainting the floors a gross shade of red.
My eyes cleared fully, finally overcoming the awful sensation that had been plaguing me. I surveyed the room, turning in a circle slowly as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I had been sitting on a wooden chair, aged by rain and rot. The once magnificent carvings had melted away with time, replaced by a greenish tint and a sour smell. A few feet to the right of me was a table, strewn sideways to block a door.
Why the door was blocked I had no idea. The entire wall in front of me was already destroyed. It seemed pointless, but I decided to ignore it momentarily.
The rest of the room was once to be marveled at. There were ripped tapestries adorning the walls, candles littering the floor and stories whispering in the surviving windows despite the layers of grime. On the far left, the remains of a chandelier, once grand, lay lifeless on the floor.
Taking hesitant steps, I walked towards the gaping wound in the building. The entryway gave way to a steep drop, rain pawing at my feet. My hand reached out to the wall, bracing myself to withstand the wind as I peered down.
Below was blanketed by trees. Though I had to admit, I was happy to see green rather than red. The stench of blood was beginning to disgust me.
Rain pushed through my hair, massaging the blood off my curls with each drop. I was unsure if my hair was truly red or merely momentarily stained by blood.
Walking away from the ledge, my hands traced the windows. Gathering my smock, I pushed the dirt away revealing the masterpiece beneath.
It seemed to depict some sort of religious story. The first panel detailed a light shining upon a bowed figure, sword and shield in hand. Beside the kneeling knight was a woman, standing stall despite the light. She peered almost defiantly at the power blessing the warrior to her left. All around them were different people, or creatures, embracing the light. It seemed to be a gathering of challengers.
The next window showed the knight thrusting his sword at a shadowed figure. Locked in this image, the knight's weapon was forever sparing the foe. The shadow appeared almost gloating, the wispy outline curling in feigned terror. The woman was no where to be seen.
The third panel depicted a small figure, stout and strong, wielding a large hammer. The dwarf's back was shown with its arm raised high above, freezing the hammer in the air. In front of the figure was a large organ. The musical instrument's pipes formed an eerie monster that was under siege. The glass surrounding the organ was warped, beautifully showing the impact of the organs music.
The final surviving pane held just the woman's figure. She was kneeling, back to me, with a large sword stabbing her through the back. She seemed resigned, happy almost, with her fate. Bathed in a white garb, her head was covered in a white veil contrasting the pool of blood beneath her.
She was in some sort of church, kneeling in the center of the altar. Yet, there was no object of worship. No statue, no God, no demon stood before her. Instead, she seemed quietly alone. Content to reminisce on her life in solitude.
I wanted to keep inspecting the windows but no other panes had survived. Whatever had crashed through the wall had irreversibly broken the rest of the windows.
Looking towards the floor, I caught a glimpse of something in a puddle. Whirling around, my hands came out in front of me as I braced myself for conflict. My heart was beating out of my chest.
"C-come out!"
I shouted into the void.
The only response was the howling of the wind.
Steeling myself, I looked back in the puddle. Instantly, I was embarrassed. Who gets scared by their own reflection? Yet, my face was truly a horror at this moment.
I was covered in blood. There was blood trickling down from my hairline and speckles on my temples. I looked like I'd been through hell.
Examining myself further, I still couldn't determine the color of my hair. The puddle was tainted red and effective at concealing the coloring of most everything. My eyes still remained a mystery.
I could tell that I had curly hair though. It seemed untamable in the wind and rain. My lips were full and trembling, my tongue sticking out to lick them and tasting nothing but iron.
Trudging back to the chair, I looked for anything that could identify me. I needed to know who I was.
Nothing.
The rotten chair's carving seemed to show some sort of star, shining vibrantly in the sky. Pushing the chair in frustration it fell to the floor with a bang.
On the backside of the seat, covered in rust and grime, a plaque revealed itself.
Crouching in a hurry, I brushed my smock against it, polishing it to try and read whatever had been carved in the metal.
At first, I saw scribbles with no meaning. The indents on the golden rectangle were unintelligible to me. I couldn't read them.
Then, with a pulse of agony, the scribbles shifted into letters and then, finally, words.
- For Estelle, the brightest star in our galaxy -
"Estelle…"
I murmured the word under my breath. It was as good a name as any. Besides, I had no other clues to my identity. Even if the name was stolen, it was all I had.
Just then, as though belatedly responding in kind to the bang of the chair, the door behind the table was pounded on.
I jumped to my feet.
Another bang responded to my motion. This one was more frantic than the last. It seemed more forceful as well, as though some force had regained its will and was focusing solely on getting inside the room.
I crept towards the table, fear contorting my movements and slowing my motion. I didn't want to look. I didn't want to move the table.
Just then, the banging ceased.
Breathing out a sigh, I waited a beat and then turning around to face the chandelier.
Padding towards it, I whirled when I heard the scratch of wood on wood.
The door was being pushed open. The crack allowed for a hand to slide through, groping at the air next to the doorknob.
The hand seemed far from human. The flesh was strained, thin and pale as it stretched to cover bony digits. Further up on the wrist, an entire flap of skin had separated and waved hello in the air.
The hand clawed at the air once more, a groan permeating the room alongside it.
Whatever was trying to get in did not seem friendly.