The past hour had flew by in one depressing whirl. It was so strange to her, to have some one who actually gave a damn. Timira was not accustomed to having a shoulder to cry on, not since she came to the place beyond the mirror. It was a double edged sword to the girl.

On one hand, it was wonderful to have someone to comfort her. Yet it reminded her of everything she had left behind.

Those thoughts filled her mind as she walked up the stairs to her bedroom to clean her self up. Her hair was failing out of the black bands, her shirt wrinkled.

“Sometimes I wish I had just stayed there, with them.” She muttered under her breathe.   

“But what could have become of you then?”

She froze at the bottom of the stair case, the voice’s were whispering more than normal. If it were normal at all, that is.

“I’d be alive.” Her voice cracked on the last word and she hated herself for it. Tears were for the weak, and she was stronger than that.

Her foot steps seemed to echo as her boots smacked at the toes with every step she took. It reminded her of her mother, who always complained that she ruined the front of her shoes.

A chill drifted down her spine like lightening as soon as her hand rested on the door knob. She reached into her pocket deftly and pulled out the small silver key with a black ribbon around it. Twisting the knob she let herself into her room, taking a look at it through puffy, tear stained eyes.

She noticed in that moment why it was that Eliza seemed so shocked by her abode. It was three times the size that it should be, with its winding stair case up to the observatory.

“No one would listen, no one but her. It amazes me that you still listen to that song. It’s been so long since you’ve even bothered to listen to a single word from me.” The man said with a brightly lit smirk.

Timira hated herself for gasping, she knew he would come. She watched him for a moment, her body yearning for him in ways she forgot she could feel.

His black hair was just a tiny bit long, the back reaching the nape of his neck. He folded his wonderfully muscular arms across his toned chest that was hidden beneath a black button up. His cotton slacks were still slightly mussed by the twigs and underbrush that they ran through as mortals. The only thing different was his eyes, she had them now.

She could feel her fists clench at the sight of those eyes. The golden color of temptation that made her inner demons rise. “Damyx.”