When Tristessa opened her eyes and blinked a few times, she noticed three things.

  The first was that she was lying on a bed dressed in black sheets. Her head was buried in a soft, feather-filled pillow that invited her to continue dreaming forever. She wasn't covered by the sheets that smelled perfume, and she was still wearing the same disheveled, damaged, and bloodstained clothes.

  The second was the familiar surroundings. White walls, a wooden desk with books on it, a chair, and a fluorescent light in the center of the ceiling. When she heard distorted violin and piano music outside the room and saw the black plastic curtains in the doorway, she realized that this place was her mind palace, a product of her [Divinity of the Dark Room]; specifically, the Assistant's Office. Free of the frost caused by the invasive presence of the summoning-seeking Dullahan.

  And the third was that someone was lying next to her, breathing down her neck. Turning around, Tristessa saw a woman with charred eyes staring at her, a disturbing smile revealing white teeth.

  “OH, SHIT!” The shock made the girl fall out of bed, and she would have crawled to the door if the woman hadn't sat up, laughing with a certain tenderness. “L-Lenore? Is that you?”

  “Yes, my (lady/queen/mistress)!” The beautiful and unsettling raven-haired woman sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs and almost brushing Tristessa's face with the tips of her long black leather boots. She was wearing her usual white lab coat and cotton short black skirt. “Welcome back to your [Dark Room].”

  Yes, she was the Lenore Tristessa remembered. That beautiful smile was unforgettable, even more so the fact that it couldn't possibly match those glowing red-hot, charcoal eyes worthy of a nightmare.

  “I thought I'd never see you again! What happened to you, to my mind palace?” Tristessa exclaimed with relief, rising from the floor and still recovering from the fright her assistant had given her.

  “Oh, that was because your [Divinity of Nemesian Summoning] wasn’t yet synchronized with your soul when it was created. Consequently, the palace’s new (tenant/occupant/resident) fell into a deep slumber,” she explained, clasping her hands, their nails painted black, atop her knees. And there was another black characteristic about her: tendrils of darkness snaked around her, appearing and disappearing at will. Haunting, and beautiful. “So deep and cold that even the palace and I followed her. And as for you…”

  “I suffered the exact opposite fate. Insomnia. I couldn’t sleep knowing something was wrong her,” she finished her sentence, thinking while looking hypnotized at the dancing shadows around Lenore. “And what do you mean by synchronization? How could I have gotten a new Div…? No, wait.”

  Tristessa had already begun unleashing her barrage of questions, but something in her assistant’s explanation caught her attention.

  “What do you mean by...new tenant?”

  Lenore got out of bed and respectfully invited her mistress to accompany her outside her office. The main room of the mind palace was a vivid reflection of how Tristessa had left it before the near absolute zero cold expelled her, with no promise of return. The materials and equipment for developing photographs were scattered on the metal tables attached to the walls, the low-intensity red lights in the corners, the speakers, and of course, the elements characteristics of her Divinity: the entrances to the different rooms, the table in the center of the room covered with thousands of negative photographs submerged in untouchable water, and the mirror that showed a reflection of how she saw herself.

  The only new aspect there was the tenant Lenore had mentioned. Both her curved sword and she leaned against the wall by the entrance to the Room of Phantom Remembrances; arms crossed, wearing her unmistakable full black steel armor and matching cape.

  “Dullahan…”

  Tristessa skirted the Negative Altar and went straight to her, her gaze never leaving her for a second. Closely followed by her attendant, who clutched a black-covered photo album to her prominent chest.

  “Can you hear me? Hello?”

  Standing before the dark knightess, having to raise her gaze a bit, Tristessa couldn't believe the turn of events. She had been, and still was, the personification of the dread that had lodged in Tristessa's heart since she first encountered Death. Now such fear no longer tormented her to the point of madness: it had been redesigned to be used against her enemies.

  Though much weaker compared to its previous version. Without a face within the helmet, only darkness. And without a voice to show a personality. All of that had been lost when the Dullahan was defeated and fulfilled the purpose given to her by her two enigmatic mothers.

  “She is part of you, my mistress. We are both extensions of your (soul/spirit/core), and your Divinities are what allow us to exist,” Lenore explained.

  “I know… It's as if she was reborn, isn't it?” Tristessa whispered, daring to place a hand on the right side of her helmet. She felt that extreme cold that should have reduced her palm to a thousand frozen pieces, but it didn't even begin to hurt. It felt familiar. It felt right. “What I don't understand is how it's possible that a new Divinity has arisen within me...”

  “I don't understand it either, but it undoubtedly has to do with your former [Mark of Death/Curse of Return/Baptism in Ruins].” Lenore opened the photo album labeled [Divinity of Death and Resurrection] and, among the photographs filled with gore, trauma, and everlasting suffering, she showed Tristessa the one that depicted the black mark that used to parasitize her chest. “If you wish, we could meditate and formulate theories about it, my lady.”

  “Yes, let’s do that once I return here later.”

  “Oh! You’re leaving already, so soon? Don’t you want to look at yourself in the Black Mirror?”

  “No, now I need to return to the real world and see what happened to my fr…my allies,” Tristessa said, feeling an unpleasant discomfort in her throat at having to call Auron, Astoria, and Severus by that form, when in her heart they meant so much more. Even if she wasn’t to them. “Dullahan.”

  She focused on the silent dark knightess, whom she would never be able to stop calling by that now-improper name despite her rebirth. Up close, every sharp, angular detail of the overlapping plates of her armor was as terrifying as it was majestic, just as she remembered. All that was missing was for her to hear her guttural voice again, but it didn’t seem like that was going to happen any time soon…

  “Welcome.”

  The Dullahan gave a brief nod, and at that, one corner of Tristessa's lips curved into a small smile. Satisfied with this silent message of affirmation, the girl bid farewell to Lenore and went straight to the black door she could easily have mistaken for the one leading to the real Dark Room, with its candlelit hallway and eerie atmosphere, a breeding ground for terror that could torment and scar any mind.

  She didn't hesitate for a moment before opening the door and crossing the threshold, no longer feeling that dark, damp mist surrounding her, so characteristic of her Divinity.

  “…!”

  What she hadn't expected was to find a completely unfamiliar place on the other side.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “What the…?”

  A corridor with gray brick walls, tungsten lamps lining the left side, and a smooth, black floor with white stripes marking the distance one could approach…to the empty cells on the right.

  “W-what is this…?” Tristessa blinked several times, confused by what had happened. She felt no influence from her Divinity; she was certain she should have returned to reality. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no…”

  Her own whisper felt like a veil of doom settling over her, followed by an unpleasant tingling that crawled from her neck to her waist. Chills. Newborn fear in the face of that abnormal corridor inside a prison. A place she knew, and the mere memory of it crushed her thoughts and set her neurons ablaze.

  Her breathing became erratic as she turned and tried to open the door, to no avail, no matter how hard she pulled on the knob.

  “Shit, what do I do? WHAT DO I DO?!”

  And in her moment of greatest despair, between her ragged gasps and her nervous babble, Tristessa heard a sound coming from the end of the corridor.

  A female voice humming a melody.

  “…”

  Without warning, without any preamble, Tristessa lost control of her body, her mouth, her chaotic train of thought. She saw everything like a passenger on a journey she'd never agreed to be a part of; the same feeling one gets when experiencing a dream so vivid it seems real.

  Her legs started to move on their own, carrying her along the corridor, hurried and staying within the lines. She could feel her own anxiety, the product of racing thoughts that were like blank pages, how tired she was, and above all, the overwhelming anger that boiled within her. A level of fury she'd only experienced in specific circumstances, and one that, for an amnesiac like her, made her hate herself.

  A personal hatred of her own toward Tristessa Irandell, and that hatred she hadn't recognized as being directed at the owner of the voice that hummed the opening notes of the musical piece Clair de Lune.

  “It's her.” Tristessa could do nothing to prevent what was about to happen. Whether she was ready or not, that vessel that was her own body, commanded by the Tristessa of the past, led her to the only cell with its lights on. From there came that beautiful, pleasant humming, which to her felt like vomiting noxious pus from her ears. “Damn it, it really is her…”

  She stopped in front of the cell and Tristessa saw none other than her own mother on the other side. Selene Irandell, the [Sweet Nurse] of [Blackwater Park], sat in a white chair in the center of the cell, completely empty except for a broken wall clock. Dressed in a black suit and tie; long, straight black hair cascading down, and a face sculpted by divine hands, overflowing with natural beauty.

  She had stopped humming the melody, but her eyes remained closed, a peaceful smile playing on her lips. Oblivious to her surroundings, oblivious to the situation she was in, and oblivious to Tristessa's presence on the other side of the thick bars that kept her from her freedom.

  “Mother...”

  When she spoke that word in a cautious tone, concealing the abysmal hatred that gnawed at her from within, Tristessa saw Selene’s eyes suddenly open. Cyan irises that froze the world, time, everything. Without blinking, they could strip her bare and reveal every tiny secret that existed beneath her skin, her flesh, bones and soul.

  “…still here, Tristessa?”

  And Tristessa’s peaceful smile transformed into that odious sneer of vanity and egocentrism, emanating a disgusting air of superiority, as if she were nothing more than a miserable cockroach that only deserved to be squashed.

  That smile that Tristessa detested with passion.

  “You should have left hours ago. The fact that you're still in this godforsaken town is quite a surprise,” the woman said, legs crossed, hands resting on her knees, her fingers tapping her knuckles in a coordinated fashion. She gave Tristessa no opportunity to reply. “Bah, it isn't, if I have to be honest. Coming from you… You and your older sister share that singular trait of being unable to tear yourself away from my tits.”

  “Fuck you,” the girl retorted instantly, seeing with such anger that she crossed the white line and slammed her fists against the bars. A reaction that caused nothing in Selene, not even a blink. “Fuck you!”

  “Ah, so energetic, as always.” Selene chuckled, further irritating her daughter. “Did you come here to insult me, or is there something else hovering inside that tiny little shell you call a skull?”

  “Shut up! If you’re going to talk, just tell me where the fuck is everyone! Where is [Natalie]?!” Tristessa exclaimed, her hands trembling as she gripped the bars. She felt the unmerciful coldness in the metal surface, and the harshness that separated mother and daughter. “Tell me!”

  “You know the answer to that question perfectly well. That’s why you should have escaped when you had the chance… Now, I think you’ve crossed a point of no return,” the woman lamented, her velvety voice feigning obvious anguish. She didn’t even bother to feign sadness; her need to crush her daughter’s will was stronger. “Another decision you made that will surely ruin the lives of more people. You have a natural talent for that, you know? Making sure everyone who crosses your path ends up in the worst possible way imaginable.”

  “SHUT YOUR MOUTH! SHUT UP!” With those roars, Tristessa pounded on the cell bars again. She longed for a way to reach that damned woman who, unfortunately, was her mother, and punch every single one of her teeth out. “WHAT ABOUT YOU, CRIMINAL?! DIDN'T YOU REALIZE WHERE YOU ARE?! MURDERER!”

  Selene's sarcastic smile widened, and she raised her hands, open and facing upward. Her eyes were relaxed and narrowed, without a trace of guilt.

  “What can I say? It's survival of the fittest. Look at me now: safe, in the safest place in the whole town, where no one will ever lay a hand on me. As for you… The weight of your sins feels heavy, doesn’t it? Everything you did, everything you provoked, and all the harm you caused. It must be unbearable to feel something like that.”

  “Shut up…” This time, the words were uttered with weakness, a babble accompanied by tears that didn't move Selene in the slightest. Quite the opposite: the pride in her gaze turned cruel, yearning to vilely punish the stains that tainted her soul.

  “Truly… You're a piece of shit, Tessa. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  The insult stung deep. Tristessa felt her heart rot from the hatred and poison within, pumping decay and disease instead of blood, circulating a miasma of Death instead of oxygen.

  “You made your decision, and it's time you took responsibility for it. But… I am a compassionate woman, and I will give you another piece of advice that I believe you have completely forgotten.”

  For the first time in all the flashbacks and mental intrusions she'd experienced, Tristessa saw her mother rise from her chair. For the first time, she saw her adopt a serious expression, causing an indescribable terror to surge alongside the seething hatred that consumed her soul.

  With her hands behind her back, she approached the bars and looked down slightly to be to meet her daughter’s eyes, and spoke with utmost care and precision:

  “Beware the [Order of Nether'Varus].”

  Those cyan eyes reflected the force of her words, like a hammer striking straight into her consciousness, giving the terror she felt a meaning. A purpose. A warning of a dark omen of damnation that was about to fall upon her, upon everything. Or that had already fallen, and it was too late to do anything about it.

  “Well, I think that's enough.” Selene returned to her seat and assumed the same posture and mocking smile. Automatically, as if she'd rehearsed it hundreds of thousands of times before. “Just go and do what you have to do. I will stay here and wait for fate to do its part.”

  “B-but... But I...!”

  Selene couldn't help but let out a mischievous, seductive laugh. Mocking her daughter's confusion, her bad luck, her inability to overcome obstacles, how she failed at everything she tried.

  “Do you hear it? Tick, tock… Tick, tock.” The woman pointed to the broken clock on the wall, its hands frozen on the time Tristessa had seen before, [7:25:45]. “Time is running out for you...”

  “No…”

  “If you don’t hurry, the Order will finish their work. And you…”

  “No!”

  “You will die.”

  “NO!”

  Tristessa screamed with all her might and ran, her eyes wide with tears, radiating fury and helplessness. She had no idea what was happening; that forbidden memory barely made sense from that companion’s perspective, but there was no doubt that everything was collapsing around her.

  A hostile darkness pursued her from all directions, foretelling the destruction of her and everything she loved. She felt it brushing against her shoulders, caressing her back, the nape of her neck with delight. Whispering promises of doom in her ear, as she ran straight toward the black door and the end of that nightmare.

  Managing to open it wide, and this time, returning to the real world.

  follow, a rating or a favorite, it helps a lot!! ??????

  Chapter 1 - Lethean", since it's clearly damaging the start of the story and driving readers away. Almost 50% of every bad rating I got have their source on that chapter, and comments are very explicit about how badly done it is.