3.1 //Darkness Falling//

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Wrapped in my mom's kimono robe, still dripping from the shower, I wiped the condensation from the bathroom mirror. I could barely make eye contact with my own reflection. How to even think about a party when my mom was helpless in a hospital? How selfish was I?

Grabbing the comb at the edge of the counter, I dragged mercilessly through my wet curls. I hated feeling useless. If Dad hadn't asked me to look after Margie, I would've hitched a ride to Clifton and beat him there. If it had been me in that hospital, mom never would have left me behind.

The comb slipped right out of my hands and clattered to the floor. Dropping to my feet for the comb, I paused, peeking wide-eyed above the counter. Standing tall, my reflection looked down on me with a wide smirk. Tethered by the chain at her neck, the sapphire floated in invitation.

Realizing my own sapphire was clutched in my hand, I gazed at the glowing stone in wonder. Weightless, effortlessly smooth, I couldn't help but admire its glow - never-ending spirals of indigo sparkling in endless waves. I wanted to hate it, but Margot was right. It was beautiful.

Doppelganger forgotten, I rose slowly to my feet, eyes on the sapphire. Suffused in a blue dome of light, it's shine flared like a dying sun - and swallowed me whole. One minute I was standing in my bathroom. The next, I was trapped in a world of darkness, with nowhere to run.

The sapphire cast a warm, protective circle of blue light. Beyond its glow, threatening shadows loomed tall as trees. Darker than the blackness, their pulsing forms rippled in inconsistent shapes. The only steady, tangible thing about those creatures were their fiery red eyes, burning in their shapeless heads like hell-fire.  

Knowing they were behind me, I stepped back anyway, bumping into something surprisingly solid for a shadow. It took me by the arm and spun me around; I was every bit prepared for it to eat me... But it was human.

A boy my age, with shaggy black hair and dream-blue eyes smirked back at me. His 14th century, peasant-style clothes were like the kind the boys wore in our 8th grade production of the Taming of the Shrew. His long jet locks were pulled back in a ponytail sprouting curls left and right; he  was sweating and out-of-breath--his sapphire eyes shining with excitement.

"Reckless girl--back to me dreams," he chided, in a lilting Irish accent I immediately recognized.

"Wait. You're not dreaming, I'm dreaming!"

He laughed.

"What's your name?" I demanded. "Who are you?"

"That, only my mother knew." Grinning, he looked past me, taunting the shadows in Irish. The boy darted around me but I grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him back. "Oi! Are you daft?"

"You're the reason I'm here, so tell me how to get home!"

"I'm the reason, I'm the reason," he mimicked, hands pecking the air like bird beaks. "Aye, you're at it worse than Da and Ma. You want out, darlin'?" He stepped close, his charming face was nearly white in the light of the sapphire. Taking it in his hand, he ran his thumb along the edge... and gave it back. "Embrace the dark. Fight your demons."

But something told me these weren't my demons, they were his.

This time I couldn't stop him when he turned and ran for the shadows, calling in Irish as he un-sheathed a sword from mid-air. Still, I called after him, telling him to wait as he slashed at the shadows, turning them into vapor. They didn't stop, and neither did he.

Rooted to the spot, stuck in a war zone with no escape, I watched him fight through the chaos.

"Stupid boy." Sapphire in hand, I held it close and shut my eyes. "Embrace the dark," I whispered, my voice a shaking mess. "Fight your demons..." I opened my eyes. Whoever he was, I couldn't let him do it alone.

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