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"WHAT'S going on?"
Coraline's question came out through heavy pants. She raced down the hall with Michael, hand in hand, as Ms. Mead followed close behind. The walls around her were becoming a blur; the candle lights looked like she was passing by orange smoke. Coraline swallowed hard as everything felt like it was caving in. Something was wrong – very wrong. This couldn't be happening, whatever it was. Not when she finally got what she wanted.
"There's a powerful presence," Michael answered, beginning to slow his pace. Straightening his jacket, he resumed his normal behavior, his expression growing cold.
Coraline shook her head, tugging on his hand as they came to a halt. Ms. Mead stopped short behind. "Everyone's dead, Michael."
He looked over his shoulder, pulling on their laced hands to guide her forward again. "Not anymore."
Their pace down the stairs was slow, causing nerves to bubble up in Coraline's stomach. She realized what Michael had been feeling then. It was a force she had never noticed before, winding down the halls and filling her nostrils with a scent of sweet sage. Voices echoed across the hall as the stairs curled downward. Some sounded familiar; others were foreign, but they were all female.
"I'm not here to defeat anyone," a strangely recognizable voice seethed.
Coraline felt the oxygen leave her body when they stopped fast at the end of the stairs. Seven figures turned at their presence, some looking more powerful than the others. A tall woman with honey-colored hair stood at the head, walking forward to the staircase with a confident look in her eyes. She was accompanied by another younger blonde and an older woman with frizzy, orange locks. Coraline's eyes went wide when they connected with Mallory's – she was alive and well, along with Dinah and Coco. How were they alive? Did they come back from the dead?
The scent of sage should've answered all her questions.
Michael cautiously hid Coraline behind him, but that wasn't enough for her. She wrapped her hand around his arm, allowing the bond to seal them together, and peeking her eyes from over his broad shoulder.
"How can any of you defeat me," he sneered, "when I've already won?"
The tall blonde stepped forward, knitting her dark brows together. "You haven't won."
Michael chuckled, "Perhaps you haven't noticed the state of the world."
"It's almost as bad as your dinner jacket," the frizzy-haired ginger boasted, "but at least the world can be saved."
