D&D Drabbles

Lune: Icy Mirrors

First it was a small tremor, which grew into a rattling, which grew into a thunderous shake. The very walls and floors of the Baron's keep started to shatter and crumble. Debris falling from the ceiling as everyone still conscious scrambled to attempt to dodge. Lune's eyes left their fixed position on Kenric and Daegal as their eyes darted up to the falling chunks of stone that were associated with the keep. They heard the small yelps of surprise from the others as either the floor crumbled beneath them or ice walls slammed into them.

Using the pillar they were nearby Lune leaped to avoid the crumbling ceiling but in doing so landed on a loose piece of flooring. The tiles teetered and a gaping hole opened up beneath the eladrin as they began falling, falling, falling. Arms flailing and breathing increasing in the panic as they fell further and further. The swirling twilight around them seemingly attempted to curl around its owner as the gray stone started to turn to pale blue ice. In a flash Lune's eyes locked onto the impending floor that was rising up to meet them. A small curse followed by a prayer left their lips as a beat after their eyes locked onto a protruding ridge. Attempting to stabilize mid air, they hurled their mace into the other wall as the momentum forced Lune backwards, colliding with the wall. A grunt leaving their lips as the wind was knocked out of them. Within a couple seconds they were able to grip onto the small ledge, a noise of pain leaving Lune. It slowed them down just enough to not plummet straight to the ground which likely would've ended in a major injury, one of which they couldn't afford to happen right now.

Sliding down to the ground they went to pick up their mace that had clattered on the ground, a small indent in the ice where it landed. Once their weapon was resting in their hands they glanced about, first scanning for threats- and second for their companions. When neither were to be found Lune drew in a deep breath, raking a hand through their hair.

This was not ideal in the slightest. They were in enemy territory and now split up with no method of communication between them. Lune almost wished that they went into this fight with a mental link established between some of the group but there was no time to think on what could have been.

Lune had fallen to the end of a dead end so there was only one way to go, and that was forward. Ahead of them dancing in the ice was Lune's reflection shining in the ice. They regarded their reflection as step by step they approached. Seeing the scrapes and bruises that littered their body that they had attempted do patch up and cover to the best of their ability. Eyes that were filled with nerves and a random pattern of taps on their thigh, that luckily nobody managed to pick up on. Their sagging posture, they were so damn tired.

To the left at the end of this hallway was an arch that led into a room filled with mirrors and whispers. No immediate danger seemed to be in sight. However, Lune had no clue what they were walking into. With a crack Lune's mace left an indent in the ice where the room opened up just in case they needed to backtrack. Their left hand covered over the left wall of this room of mirrors taking step by step forward.

Against better judgment, Lune's eyes flickered between all the mirrors taking their eyes off of moving forward. At which point Lune swore they started to hallucinate. They would see their reflection turn to winter when they swore to move on from that. Seeing themself blink when they knew they weren't, a frown, a scoff, a scowl. Before a young orc woman formed in one of the mirrors. A blink of surprise came from Lune as they quickly racked their brain trying to remember if they had ever seen the woman. All Lune drew was a blank though.

The woman's mouth opened and whispers and groans started to fill the air, "murderer", "grieve for us", "you killed us". As more and more figures stepped out of the mirrors. People dressed in maid uniforms, soldiers and others.

Shit.

The explosion. Their souls were still trapped in the keep and now existed to torment Lune over their decision. A decision that would likely haunt Lune until their grave, but one Lune felt with all their heart was necessary. A necessary sacrifice. Lune hated sacrifice, more than most people would. However in war they knew that sacrifices were unavoidable no matter how much they loathe it.

Lune did their best to just avoid eye contact from the figures but their voices still penetrated into their very being.

Grieve.

Murderer.

Your Fault.

It felt just like when they had the locket back with them. The blame, the fear, the doubt. Back when they were still winter. It took so so so much for them to be able to move on and yet this room was single handedly attempting to cause doubt within them once more.

Shaking their head Lune still progressed through, attempting to block out the voice to the best of their ability. To move forward- to progress. Step by step, ice crunching slightly beneath their boots. Their hand on their mace still. As they reached the end of the room one last figure stepped out. A small young girl with pigtails. "I just wanted to come see the pretty house with mommy." Guilt swam underneath their skin. They hated it.

"I'm sorry." Lune said to the small girl, and that was all they had to say as they walked past her. Not looking back, but still in their own head partially until they heard a voice and Lune stopped in their tracks.

Conversing in the room in front of them, was none other than Eurrik and Alexander Dumas.

Double shit.