The stone floor - hard and cold,
The wooden walls, so warm and comforting,
My footsteps echo through the drafty hall.
I reach out to touch the nearest door,
And find that the handle is much too hot -
I mustn't enter there yet.

I walk even further
To a door I recognize -
I painted it chartreuse myself
To remind me of what was inside.
I walk through it to familiar meadow,
But the last time I was here,
The grass was chartreuse -
Hence the door -
But now it seems to be carmine -
The color of dried blood.

I wonder what happened here,
In this field.
There seems to be a lone fighter,
Standing in the center
Of the scattered bodies
With two knives in her hands -
One in each.

She looks up
And recognizes me.
"My apologies to you,
They snuck up behind me."
She gestures to the bodies scattered around.
I look at them,
They are all friends of mine.
I stare wide-eyed at her,
For I do not believe for a second
What she says.

Seeing the disbelief in my face
She turns and runs,
But she is me,
And I am her,
But the piece of me that controls this place
Knows that I will catch her.
She was the one who showed me
This world,
She was my guide,
But it seems as if I was mistaken
With her.
How can I be mistaken,
Though,
If she is me,
And I am her?