The silhouette of a woman wearing a black dress holding an umbrella entered the catacomb. Circe could recognise that silhouette even if she was burnt to ashes.
Her heart skipped a beat as she came face to face with Ayra. Her body froze, her blood turning to ice. Ayra was much older and was still as stunning as before but her innocent and kind aura had convoluted with something sinister. Her eyes were hard and piercing, her lips thin and cruel.
Ayra was shocked to see someone in the catacomb. Her eyes widened as she saw the figure sitting on the ground. No one was allowed to be here. In fact, no one ordinary could enter here so how did this fragile girl with no ounce of magic in her body get inside?
"Who are you? How did you get in here?... What are you doing here?" yelled Ayra seething in anger. Circe didn't answer. She felt a surge of adrenaline and got up, ready to flee. She did not dare to look at Ayra's face, afraid that she would see the hatred and malice in her eyes.
She darted past Ayra, pushing her aside and headed for the exit. She ran out of the catacomb, into the forest. She did not stop running through the forest, even as she heard Ayra's voice behind her, yelling, "Stop! Come back here!"
Circe ran until her lungs burned and her legs ached. She did not know where she was going, or what she would do next. She only knew that she had to escape. Circe felt a myriad of emotions as she ran. Anger, resentment, sadness, and loss. She wondered why fate had brought her back to this world, only to face her sister the second she opened her eyes. She wondered if she would ever find peace, or if she would always be haunted by her sister's shadow wherever she went.
She did not hear Ayra's voice anymore. It seemed her sister had stopped chasing her but she did not stop running, even though her heart was pounding and her breath was ragged. She did not look back, or around. She only looked ahead desperate to get as far away from this place as possible.
Because it was dark she did not see the root that was sticking out of the ground, until it was too late. Her foot hooked on it, and she lost her balance. Circe fell forward, before tumbling down a small cliff. She hit her body against the trees, feeling the branches scratch and bruise her skin. She rolled at the banks of a stream, feeling the water splash and soak her clothes.
She struggled to get up and run again but she was in excruciating pain. She tried again and this time she only managed to kneel down feeling sour. Her eyes stung, but she held back her tears. For a while, she stared at her dirty hands her eyes blurry from the tears accumulating in her eyes.
"The mistress of darkness... The queen of hell... dark enchantress ha... how the mighty have fallen," she whispered to herself as she clenched her fists her nails digging into her skin.
The figure of Ayra standing by the door suddenly flashed in her mind. There was something different about her. Ayra never wore dark colours. She loved white gowns and golden accessories ever since she was a child but now...
"Why was she dressed.... like me?" she whispered her thoughts a chaotic mess. The Ayra she saw today had died her hair black and cut it short. She was wearing a dark dress with a deep V-neckline with long, flowing sleeves and a golden belt cinching her waist. That was her style, everyone knew that. They used to call her the queen of darkness and her sister the sorceress of light.
They were born of the same blood but one was perfect and pure. She shone like a radiant star. She was kind and gentle, wise and fair. She was loved and admired by everyone.
The other was dark flawed and foul. She lurked like a shadowy beast. She was cruel and wicked, vile and lewd. She was hated and feared by most. This was a clear distinction. It had always been like this yet Ayra was dressing like her now.
"Tsk... why the hell should I care," she murmured as she got up from the ground. She had to find out who the hell summoned her back and after fulfilling their wish she would leave this place and never cross paths with anyone from the past.
She staggered up the hill her body aching extensively. Gritting her teeth she touched the side of her waist that was most likely bruised and felt something in the pockets of her dress. She pulled it out and found it was a small wallet. Inside were several cards. Circe didn't look at any of them.
She just took out the one she was interested in. It was this Circe's student card. They looked nothing alike except the eyes. Like her her eyes were round, almond-shaped, and had a gentle upturn at the outer corners, giving them the appearance of a blooming flower.
She had on a fake smile like she had been forced to. But that didn't affect her appearance in the slightest. She had long curled eyelashes that enhanced her eye shape and added a touch of glamour.
A delicate, curved eyebrow framed her eyes and complemented her facial expression. She had a soft, rosy blush that surrounded her eyes and added a hint of colour and warmth. Her smooth, flawless complexion contrasted with her eye colour making her eyes stand out.
Circe turned the student card around and saw the address written behind it. She heaved a sigh. At least she knew where this person lived otherwise she would be in an even worse predicament.
After walking for a short time she emerged from the bushes and found herself in front of a main road.
Circe was a little surprised. Things hadn't changed much in the past two decades. She walked over to the bus stop. There weren't a lot of people there but they were all whispering under their breath while glancing in her direction.
Circe who had always prided herself in her appearance felt uncomfortable. She tried to fix her hair, but it was hopeless. It hung in wet strands around her face, making her look like a drowned rat. She decided to ignore the curious and pitying glances and walked confidently to the other side of the bus stop.
As soon as she sat down she heard a loud voice that made her lips twitch. "Ew, you look dirty! You are ugly!" It was a little boy, sitting with his mother on a bench. He was pointing at her with a disgusted expression as if she was some kind of monster.
Circe, "..."
'This damn brat,' she cursed internally. Bad children needed discipline. If his mother didn't discipline him then she would.