the glass candles are burning; any

[Wayra]

Wayra wasn’t really sure what she was doing there. The Gates felt bright. It felt like a glittering pure jewel of light, hope and warmth. The blue girl shivered, and as usual, it wasn’t from the cold. The delicate green grass of heaven frosted beneath her hooves, and Wayra smirked ever so slightly, like the barest crack in an otherwise smooth statue.

The girl sighed. She hoped they realized she was not a prize anyone would hope for. She wasn’t important to the Chamber. She was just a ghost. She was the haunting of a bright sunny girl who no longer existed. Wayra wasn’t sure what they hoped to find, but it the girl who walked out of the Chamber was not the same girl who had walked in.

Wayra looked at at the grass, at the sky, at the sun, and wondered if she would miss the Chamber. Would she remember the tall towering pines with longing? Would she remember the place she had died? Wayra turned away from the sun and from that memory. It still haunted her, not in her dreams, when she could finally escape to black oblivion, but during the quite moments of her life. There were a lot of them recently, the quiet moments, and her thoughts aways wandered back to the past, back to when she had a future. The present was slow and unending, an icey in between state that she clung to like a spider on its web.