Room6c
Lamia reaches toward the white mirror which races to engulf the small group.
The bitter cold of the mirror leaves them shaking in the center of the black room.
As always, the mirrors have disappeared and the red door has sealed itself.
Lying upon the black table is a beautifully crafted sword. It is leaf-shaped with a narrow point that fades almost to invisibility. Runes are inscribed along the length of the blade which glows the color of fresh blood.
“That looks a lot worse in reality than in the mirror,” Conrad says. “Maybe you shouldn’t touch it?”
Lamia’s hand is already moving toward the sword. Her eyes are vacant as if someone else is in control of her movements. Her hand wraps around the pommel of the sword and she holds it in front of her. The red glow tints her skin and eyes giving her an otherworldly look.
“Lamia,” Jora says. “Are you OK?”
Lamia does not reply, her eyes seem to stare at vistas invisible to her friends.
“Lamia?” Jora moves closer to the girl and reaches toward her.
There is no change in Lamia’s expression as she swings the sword with blinding speed. The blade cuts into the side of Jora’s skull almost removing the top of his head in an explosion of blood.
Safir screams and Lamia turns toward her with the same, dead expression.
“Lamia, snap out of it.”
Lamia ignores, or possibly doesn’t hear Safir’s entreaty but instead lunges forward, thrusting the point of the sword between the other girl’s breasts. A grunt escapes Safir before she seems to deflate and collapse to the floor.
“I don’t want to hurt you Lamia,” Conrad says drawing his own sword and facing the girl.
Lamia walks toward the boy, without hesitation. Conrad raises his sword. Lamia’s sword lashes out with the preternatural speed it exhibited before and slices through Conrad’s blade as if it were paper rather than steel. Not only is the boy’s blade sundered but his neck as well. Conrad’s head falls to the floor, followed by his lifeless body.
Lamia places the sword on the table and her eyes clear. She looks around the room at the carnage and screams. Everywhere she turns lay the remains of her closest friends. Tears course down her cheeks. She doesn’t know how this happened. One moment she was touching the mirror and now everyone is dead.
As she weeps the sword, still glowing, rises into the air on its own. The blade draws back as if wielded by an invisible swordsman and then swings. Lamia’s head joins Conrad’s on the floor and the sword once more returns to rest on the table.