**Warning: Violence**

I woke up in a dull grey room, eyes trained on a broken roof. Moonlight streamed in through that and a few colour stained windows near the ceiling. To my sides were broader windows, now barred shut with floorboards. I couldn't recognize where we were but it looked like a chapel.

My head was practically being ripped into shreds. Had it not been for the deathly silence in here, I wouldn't have been able to listen to the soft voices coming from somewhere far behind me. I strained to pick up their words.

"But her mana is weak.”

"Harvest it. Better not waste a body.”

My gaze drifted to my left. Lisa was sleeping peacefully, gagged and tied to a chair. Dread crawled under my skin. What was going on?

"Ah, you're awake," a familiar voice boomed out of nowhere, making me jump. It was gravely but young, perhaps of a man in his late twenties. Footfalls echoed in the hall, growing louder with each step. I shrivelled as a shadow fell on my forehead. "Good evening, Ms Williams," Mr Jeriff said, his face looming upside down over mine.

Chills ran down my spine.

His face was long and chiselled, with hair parted in the middle and running down in haggard curls that reached his neck. Coupled with his monobrow and piercing black eyes, he appeared downright frightening up close. "You are quite the nuisance, aren't you?" His fingers reached under the gag around my cheek. I felt it loosen as he quickly slid around my chair and crouched down to level my gaze. "Who told you to call the police?”

My headache made it unbearable to speak. Every time I opened my mouth, a sharp pain would keep me from speaking at all. My lids began to droop automatically. "SPEAK!" he yelled, slamming his hands on my armrests and making my eyes snap wide open. I shook my head weakly, trying to tell him that I couldn't. He grabbed me by my hair and yanked it down. "Very well," he hissed, his hand slipping inside his coat and talking out a thin, ornate dagger. "Get her sister. We leave in an hour.”

My drowsiness washed away at the sight. "I don't know!" I croaked as he brought the dagger close to my neck. The whites of his eyes rolled up and soon, he was murmuring arcane words under his breath. The floor beneath us lit up with a circle of gleaming crimson symbols. My whimpers fell flat against his growing chants and suddenly, he jabbed the blade into my neck, making me scream.

Lisa was still asleep, unaware of the blood spurting out of my wound like a fountain. They say you die within seconds when stabbed in the neck. My vision grew bleary with tears when, from the corner of my eyes, I spotted the ghost standing at the far end of the room, watching me from the shadows. 

"You shouldn't have messed with time," her voice echoed in my head. "You shouldn't have disclosed the future.”

A sense of betrayal washed over me as darkness closed in painfully.

༻❁༺                                      

My eyes snapped open.

I was suddenly in the avenue, approaching the crossroads. Tower bells tolled loudly from the city square north of the intersection. The sky was transitioning to dusk.

My brows creased. I slowed down and stopped before turning around the corner. This was oddly familiar. Had I gone back in time again?

I looked down at my attire. My dark grey skirt fluttered gently in the wind, complete with socks and shoes, a maroon blazer and plain white shirt. During my time at the chapel, I had been wearing my all-white Saturday uniform.

So, I wasn't back on a Saturday. Then, how far back had I gone this time?

Just as I was thinking, familiar voices reached my ears. Sure enough, I could hear those two men chatting with Lisa's friends.

"Miss, families are there to refuse. They simply worry too much, am I right?" a gravelly voice said. It was followed by laughter from the rest of the bunch.

"Yes, yes, indeed! Ms Lisa, you have the talent. Redcliff has been searching for a girl of your calibre for months! Please, do consider," a softer voice insisted.

That's when realisation dawned in. I had travelled back to the beginning, hadn't I?

My hands curled into fists. I nearly strode towards them when Lisa spoke, "Thank you, sirs, but I'd like to think this through.”

I stopped. She was refusing?

Carefully, I peered over the corner and watched her walk away with her friends, half stunned, half impressed. Those men watched them leave with sombre faces, then, once they were beyond earshot, let out a frustrated sigh. "Damn wench.”

A smirk formed on my lips. Well, this was unexpected.

Against my better judgement, I decided to leave Lisa at the company of her friends and take a detour this time. Home wasn't my priority though. I was heading straight to the nearest telephone booth. Those men had found out about the complaint because they had seen patrol officers in front of our house right after I had refused them. But right now, they didn't know that my family and I were aware of their offer. Lisa was far too enthusiastic about working with them to register a complaint. If I could file a report now, they wouldn't direct their suspicion towards us and look for a third party instead.

As I strode down the avenue, my mind wandered back to what had happened last time. What were those men talking about? The floor had lit up with so many symbols too. Judging from whatever they'd been up to, they sure as heck didn't seem to be from the fashion industry.

Besides, the ghost had mentioned that I couldn't disclose the future. Was that the reason why my headaches had begun?

I frowned. If that was the case, what would I tell the police? Disclosing a potential murder was no different from telling the future, right?

My gaze flitted up to the sky. The top of a clock tower peered out of the lush canopies to my right. Perhaps, it was the tallest building in the entire capital. 

The hands of the clock pointed at ten minutes past six. There was no time to waste. They'd be home in nearly an hour.

A telephone booth stood far ahead to my left. I broke into a sprint, eyes squinted because of the dust. My heart began to pound, more out of anticipation than exertion. By now, I had a fair idea about what I'd say. 

Asking for anonymity, I explained to the police that a few burglars were going to rob a certain household soon. While they did consider me to be a little suspicious, they responded well. Besides, my head didn't ache. "Soon" wasn't "seven-fifteen." I hadn't exactly told them the future. Thank goodness it worked!

With the tension gone, I took the detour back home. The avenue opened to a T-section. I turned left and walked into a wide lane with many narrow alleys along the way. By now, the last vestiges of sunlight had disappeared beneath the horizon. Darkness had begun to stretch across the floor, shrouding the alleys with tall shadows of flickering lampposts. As I walked down one such alley, my eyes wandered past many newspaper clippings pasted on the walls. There were obituaries, wanted criminals, to-let advertisements, you name it.

I'd have looked away when my gaze landed on a picture of a boy no older than myself. Beneath were the following words:

In loving memory,

Nathan (Nate) Gilbert

7-2-1960 - 16-11-1977

Ah, Nathan Gilbert.

His death had been a big conspiracy.  The havoc that had ensued was a sensation in the least because Gilberts didn't just have a long history of serving the crown, a few had claimed positions in the elite circle of mages as well. The fact that a family of such repute had lost their only child for reasons still undiscovered had been enough to spark controversy.

A gust of wind blew past me just then, sending shimmers of dust rising from the street. The clipping dislodged from the wall and floated down to my feet. I sighed and put it back up. It never failed to astonish me how unfaithful life was, especially now.

By the time I reached the end of the alley, it was already dark. My neighbourhood was just around the corner. I had expected another quiet, desolate walk back home, but as soon as I reached there, my eyes squinted. The familiar blue and red lights swivelled on top of a few vans parked around our house. I hid behind the wall and watched as two policemen shoved Mr Jeriff and Mr Nicholson inside a van with their wrists shackled behind them. Curious neighbours peered through their curtains while the bolder ones had stepped out and formed a small gathering around the house.

My eyebrows creased. Was it seven-fifteen already?

But wait, why was my house sealed up?