•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
The room where she'd been with her father was dimmer than the rest of the place. And the temperature seemed to drop dramatically. She took quiet, cautious steps forward, feeling as if time was dragging. "Sylvie?" She whispered. No answer. "Sylvie?" Sprite tried again. Still no answer. She wished that she could have waited for her father. Why didn't she listen? This would have gone much faster that way. But there was no turning back now. It would only make things worse, and her senses had confirmed it- her father wasn't rooted in place. Which meant he had another TemPad in his possession. And despite herself, it stung. It truly did. She supposed that was what happened when you were such a- her thoughts fled at a sudden whirring sound coming from the desk. The chairs were carefully in their place, as if never sat in. As she approached the desk, the whirring ceased, an eerie music box began to play. She came closer, and searched on the desk for the source of the sound. Her eyes landed on the corner of the desk, where an odd little box was propped up. She picked it up with steady hands, peering at the small carved dancer inside, spinning around. Her stomach lurched as realization dawned on her. As sudden as it had sounded, the music stopped, and from around her, a glass dome shot up. As if she'd been dropped in another dimension. The glass mirrored her shocked reflection back at her. Shocked eyes, arms put up to shield herself. Her chest rose up and down rapidly as she surveyed her surroundings. When she turned, a different reflection revealed itself. His dark eyes glowed menacingly, mysterious markings across his face. On his chest was an imprint of an inflicted injury. Before she could make heads or tails of it, the reflection disappeared, passing through her. The young girl found herself retching, a tangy taste tickling the back of her throat. The sensation brought about crimson that slowly turned to a fluid resembling ink, the same fluid now pouring from her nose like a fountain. Sprite gasped out at the sudden cold air, as if her lungs were being twisted and drowned. She arched her back, twisting in various ways, as if being knocked over by a strong wind, grunting out as the liquid continued to pour from her mouth like water. As quickly as it had come, it stopped. She let out a breath, and opened her eyes, a yellow light fading in them. She raised her hands, observing the fingertips now the color of coal as everything Loki had worried about came to pass.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
YOU ARE READING
♤The Conqueror's Dagger♤
Fanfiction~He'd never expected this. He just wanted to return home. Now, he had a trapped possible love prospect, and a daughter who didn't know her own power. He's on his own now.
