บท 22: Chapter 22: The Awakening
𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴.
Her senses, dulled by disuse, slowly sharpened, bringing the surroundings into focus. The room was an unsettling blend of luxury and decay. A massive bed dominated the center, its dark velvet drapes pulled back, revealing sheets that were once pristine but now carried the musty scent of time. Ornate furniture stood like sentinels around the room, their intricate designs half-hidden by the encroaching darkness. An eerie stillness hung in the air, broken only by the distant creak of old wood settling somewhere in the mansion.
Alice sat up, the coolness of the silk sheets slipping from her body. Her hand instinctively reached for a weapon that wasn't there, fingers curling around empty air. She glanced down, a faint frown creasing her brow as she realized she was dressed in clothes that felt foreign—a simple white tank top and black cargo pants, both worn and frayed at the edges. The material clung to her like a second skin, reminding her of battle, though she couldn't place where or when.
The silence pressed in on her, thick and oppressive, as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet touched the cold wooden floor, grounding her in the moment. Every muscle in her body tensed, her instincts screaming that something was off, that she was in danger. But from what? Or from whom?
She scanned the room, searching for clues, something to anchor her to reality. Her eyes caught on the massive mirror hanging on the opposite wall. Slowly, she rose, her steps cautious, every creak of the floorboards beneath her feet amplifying the tension coiling in her gut.
When she reached the mirror, she hesitated, her reflection staring back at her. The woman in the glass looked both familiar and strange. Striking blue eyes, intense and sharp, met her gaze, filled with a confusion that mirrored her own. Blonde hair, tousled and wild, framed a face that bore the faint traces of past battles—scars that told stories she couldn't remember. The body was strong, athletic, but the reflection held a vulnerability that she hadn't expected. This was her, but it wasn't.
Her breath caught as a fleeting image flashed across her mind—blood, screams, the stench of gunpowder, and the cold weight of a firearm in her hand. It was gone as quickly as it came, leaving her with a pounding heart and a sense of urgency she couldn't shake.
She turned away from the mirror, her eyes sweeping over the room again, more purposefully this time. There had to be something, anything, that could give her a hint, a clue to what the hell was going on. Her fingers trailed along the edge of an ornate dresser, then across the rough surface of the textured walls. Her touch halted when she felt a faint seam beneath her fingertips, almost imperceptible, hidden behind a heavy tapestry that depicted some ancient battle.
Alice pulled the tapestry aside, revealing a hidden passageway. The darkness beyond was impenetrable, a gaping maw that seemed to pulse with the promise of danger. A shiver ran down her spine, but it wasn't fear that she felt—no, it was something else, something deeper. The urge to move forward, to confront whatever lay beyond that threshold, was almost overwhelming. It was as if the passage itself was calling to her, beckoning her to step into the unknown.
She hesitated only for a moment before she made her decision. There was no turning back. She had to know.
Alice reached for her gear—at least what she could find. The tactical vest hung from a chair nearby, its weight familiar against her shoulders. She quickly checked her equipment, relieved to find her Beretta 92FS still holstered at her side. She counted the magazines, two spare, each loaded with fifteen rounds. Thirty rounds in total. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. Her fingers brushed against the cool metal of the combat knife strapped to her thigh, a comforting presence.
Two flashbangs, two smoke grenades. She noted their positions on her vest, committing them to memory. She was ready.
With one last glance at the room—at the world she was leaving behind—Alice stepped into the passageway. The cold stone beneath her feet was a stark contrast to the warmth of the room, a reminder that she was entering a different world now, one where the rules would be unforgiving.
The darkness swallowed her whole, and the last thing she saw before the tapestry fell back into place was the faint outline of her reflection in the mirror, a ghost of herself staring back with eyes that seemed to know more than she did.
Alice descended into the unknown, the silence of the mansion above her replaced by the echo of her own footsteps in the narrow corridor. Whatever awaited her below, she knew one thing for certain—there was no going back.
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Vivid_Horizons
Vivid_Horizons "If you enjoyed this story, please add it to your library. If not, thank you for reading! Your comments and suggestions for future changes are welcome!"
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