Chernobyl

Time had aged the swollen wounds upon her heart and turned her eyes away from the past. Little was known of the girl because she was hesitant to share much of anything with the strange creature of Helovia. Each of them had despair in which moved them, but she did not wish to know of their stories, she only wished to frolic in the remnants of her own. There was no particular direction in which she was headed, her feet guiding her by mere ambition alone. Her thoughts struggled to remain above a line of figurative disuse before she was drowned completely in the sense of queer unknowing. The Plague had welcomed her, or at least Psyche had done as much but what now? Where did that leave her?

She was frustrated with her lack of appeal, angry with the idea that she was not moving but instead standing still. Her legs twitched with restlessness and she bristled at the thought of losing herself entirely to the agony of grief. Had she watched that horrible wretch of a mother pass beneath her hand for nothing? Had she freed herself of one distress only to accommodate another? She huffed once, twice, and then returned to a fluid gait that would carry her towards the fated mirror. She was a Disciple after all. She wondered what kind of magic she would find there.

The path was rough, though trodden in the center. It had appeared as if many had traveled to the source of knowledge countless times before her and now she felt as if her turn had come. Though, upon reaching the infamous cave she was disappointed to find only a faded glass mirror. The edges looked worn from erosion and there was no reflection to speak of. What was it about this mirror that made it so special? She knew that Myrddin, her mentor, was able to see visions from the world beyond but she had expected a sense of magic at least, a sense of belonging. But alas, there was nothing.

Stamping an impatient hoof into the flinty ground she decided that she would wait a while to see if in fact the mirror would hold true to its tale. She flicked a long matted tail of dark threads at her haunches and leaned into them as her time began, as her thoughts raced. What would become of her now? Would she ever find purpose in such a dimly lit future?

But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made
As you turn, you take your heart and walk away