Corin stood in the blood soaked room, slowly taking it in. Aside from the gore, there was little else of note. Just a small room with a single window, a bed, a closet and a desk. From the arrangement alone, he assumed it was the girl's room. The one leaking blood out of her hollow eyes.
His gaze drifted towards the severed head resting in a pool of blood. He stepped closer and crouched, his head tilting slightly. Rough brown hair, brown eyes frozen wide with terror. A patchy beard framed a face locked in horror.
Corin lifted the head by its hair. Blood dripped freely, staining his hands and pattering onto the floor. For a brief moment, his lifeless eyes mirrored the expression, widening unnaturally.
Seconds passed.
Then the emptiness returned.
He stood and tossed the head aside, his attention shifting to the other corpse.
The girl.
As their eyes met, something seemed to strike him in the head. Time stretched thin. The world warped, bending inward as if reality itself were folding. The sound of shattering glass rang through his ears. Everything began to collapse, crumbling away into a dark void.
Corin stood locked in place as the darkness rushed in, swallowing the world whole. He felt a shiver run down his spine. His eyelids got heavy, involuntarily closing.
When he opened them again, everything had changed.
A faint red energy drifted from his body before dissolving into the air. He looked down at his hands, then around him.
He was back.
Standing on the foggy street. The window he had shattered stood to his right, untouched. The fog had thinned, and people walked the street as if nothing had happened.
Corin looked around, dazed . Only one thought echoed through his mind.
"What just happened?"
His gaze returned to the window. He stepped closer and studied his reflection. A young man with raven black hair. A white mask fused to his face, its mouth sealed shut, two tiny holes for his nose, and two dark holes marking where eyes should be. Gray eyes stared back from behind it.
His fingers brushed along the mask's edge.
"No blood.", he mumbled.
There was no streak of crimson to be spotted anywhere. His mask, his boots, his hands. All clean.
A voice broke his daze.
"Hello, mister?"
A young girl leaned out from the doorway beside the window, her tone sweet and curious.
"What are you doing in front of our window?"
Corin's eyes curved into crescent moons once more. His voice turned polite.
"I am terribly sorry, little miss." He stepped back slightly. "I was only examining my reflection."
He quickly moved past her. "My apologies for the disturbance."
He lifted a hand in farewell. "Have a nice day."
As he walked away, he heard her murmur behind him.
"What a weird mister."
Corin frowned. It was the most appropriate expression he could think of, for this situation. Thoughts raced through his head, but one conclusion settled firmly in his mind.
"That was the same girl."
The one with hollow eyes crying tears of blood.
Lost in thought, Corin failed to notice the black cat stepping from a narrow alley onto the damp street. He clipped it with his foot.
The cat hissed and leapt back, yellow eyes burning, fur bristling.
Corin stopped and looked down. They stared at one another in silence.
After a moment, Corin bowed slightly. "I apologize."
Stepping past it, he continued on.
The cat let out another growl behind his back.
What was happening to him today?
Corin dismissed his thoughts and tilted his head, looking towards the huge clock tower in the distance.
8:22
His steps hurried, borderline running.
....
Chuuuuuu!
The steel behemoth let out a loud cry as it puffed out steam. It had just swallowed a bunch of people and was now thundering towards it's next stop. Massive iron wheels screamed against the rails, propelling this beast forward at record breaking speeds.
Corin sat cramped inside the wagon, staring out through a frost fogged window. His vision hindered by all the snow pouring down. Around him, men were packed shoulder to shoulder. Sweaty, exhausted, all clutching their pickaxes.
They were headed to work.
The coalmines.
They lay a short distance from Kertelmoor, connected by a single rail line. Corin boarded this carrier train every day. One lone passenger wagon for nearly fifty miners, the rest of the train reserved for coal.
Even so, this was a luxury to Corin. Most people never boarded a train in there life. Passenger trains were a privilege for the wealthy. It might not be a passenger train, but this was still second best.
Chuuuuu!
The train let out another big puff of steam before starting to slow down. It had arrived at it's last stop.
A snow covered mountain loomed ahead, its surface riddled with tunnels like the chambers of an anthill.
The door slid open. Snow and icy wind slammed into the wagon. The men shuddered as they were pushed outward. Corin followed, boots crunching into the snow.
No one spoke. Faces were hollow, eyes dulled by exhaustion. Only Corin's eyes remained bright. Unnaturally bright.
They trudged forward until a wooden building came into view. It stood at the mountain's base, it's stone foundation buried beneath snow. The group hurried inside, seeking the little warmth it provided.
Inside lay a big hall. Scattered tables and chairs filled the center. To the side, a couple of pickaxes leaned against the wall. These were just laying there as spares, since every miner had their own pickaxe that they cherished and brought home with them.
The other side of the hall was occupied by a long desk, three figures waited behind it. Two women and one man, all in clean uniforms. Not a speck of snow or dust on them, a sharp contrast to the ragged men stumbling in.
Upon spotting them, one of the woman walked towards the back.
Moments later, a bell rang out. Its echo carried through the mountain. After another pause, a second bell answered from deep underground.
Now they had to wait.
Most of the miners collapsed into chairs. Corin sat as well. The tables filled quickly. Some men rested their heads. Others muttered softly. No one sat near Corin. His table remained empty.
Minutes passed.
The door burst open.
Another group staggered inside. Their clothes were smeared black with coal dust. Faces and hair stained dark. With tired eyes they dragged themselves towards the counter.
This was the other group, they had just completed their night shift and were now clocking out.
A voice suddenly cut through the hall.
"Corin!"
His gaze shifted.
A woman strode toward him. Short black hair cut into a wavy bob. Sharp brown eyes, a strong jaw, and a powerful build. Tall, broad shouldered, muscle evident beneath her clothes.
Amanda.
His mother.
Not by blood.
His real parents had left him to die on the street. Amanda was his mother figure, she was the reason he was a coal miner, the reason he always acted so polite. The reason he survived.
She wasn't that much older than him, only 8 years.
When Corin was 15 years old, she took in, and cared for the starving kid. And now, 6 years later, he had already grown into a young adult and lived alone.
Amanda rushed over, hitting him on the head.
"You stole something again, didn't you!?"
He looked up sheepishly, caressing his head. He had learned this response worked best.
"No."
Amanda leaned closer, eyes burrowing into his.
"Do not lie to me. I can see it in your eyes."
He tilted his head. He never understood how she always knew. With a sigh, he grabbed the money pouch from his pocket. He rummaged inside, grabbing 3 copper kertels. From his other pocket, he grabbed a small handkerchief. Laying both on the table in front of him.
Her eyes scanned the items, brows furrowing.
"You probably robbed Jef again," she said flatly. Then she pointed at the cloth, her tone curious. "Where did you get this?"
Corin looked down, half pouting beneath the mask.
"Jef was asking for it. He let me lean over the counter and even looked away."
She interrupted.
"I asked about the handkerchief."
Corin scratched the back of his head, lowering his voice.
"A little girl h-"
The blow came before the words finished forming.
Amanda's fist crashed into the back of his head, slamming his face down against the table.
Blood poured through the nose of his mask, leaking onto the wood.