"If your whole life turns out to be a lie, what will you do then?"
"If everything you knew turns out to be a hoax, what will you do then?"
Graciana Duerre Weasley, twin sister of Ron Weasley, is a troublemaker. Mischievous but a little introvert, bo...
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SHE WAS STANDING IN front of a dome-like building: a cupola.
The building looked old and ancient and somehow not a part of this world, even though it was. Secluded from the rest of the world and a peaceful haven for someone but at the same time a nightmare for another, this place stood on the Cliffside near the ocean. The blue waves clashed with the jagged rocks and sand and left behind a small blanket of foamy bubbles.
Her hair whipped in the whistling wind, making her eyes water and causing goose bumps to appear on her thin forearms. She was in a dress, a beautiful full length gown which was pale blue from above and darkened as it went down. The neckline, the waist and the length were adorned with gems and crystals with the shades of blue. She looked like a sea goddess and her dress gave the appearance of sea waves originating from her.
She turned toward the magnificent structure which was at a little distance from her. There was something there, she knew it. She could feel powerful magic emanating from this architecture and at the same time she could hear it calling her. She needed to get in there.
As if caught in a trance, her feet started to move on their own accord, her gown trailing the sand behind her, but miraculously, the fabric was untouched by any element. No sand clung to it, no stone got stuck in it. It was peculiarly perfect. Too perfect.
When she was only a few steps away from the ancient building, her surrounding changed suddenly.
Now she stood inside a large dome-like room; she was inside the building. The arched ceiling were covered renaissance-like-art lining on the walls like wallpaper. The longer she looked at it, the more she understood it. It was telling a story, an old legend.
"You need to die."
A voice pierced behind her through the calm silence of the dome. Normally it would've startled her, but she was not. She was expecting it. The voice had no malice, no emotion whatsoever. She recognised the voice. Grace turned slowly, her unblemished gown turning with her.
There, standing before her, was herself. An obsidian black gown, only accessorized with single emerald on the high collar. The dress looked old and symbolised a relic of time long unknown by anyone living. Most like centuries old. She didn't know why she thought it could be so ancient, seeing as it was perfectly intact and looked as if it had never been worn before, but something deep in the crevices of her darkened mind told her that this dress holds the kind of memories someone old and wise enough could know. She was wearing the same rose pendant that Grace wore everyday, the relic of her mother, the necklace gifted to her by her father on last year Christmas. The figure of herself staring at her now was barefoot, her feet scratched and bloodied, maybe walking from a sharp wooded area of rocks.
