Silence. A Brobdingnagian structure slept in perfect stillness, seemingly untouched by the world beyond the glass that constituted the domed roof, a herald to the heavens.
At the crest of the dome, a vast halo shone. The dying light cascaded down from its epicenter and cast itself into the structure below, creating a calamitous ring of light upon the floor. Upon first glance, it looked as if the source if this light was the sun, but upon looking closer it began apparent that this was in fact a subtle lunar luminance, dancing upon the earth. The floor itself was purest marble, unblemished despite the ages that had passed through this place. Not a single scuff or scratch disrupted the sheer polished surface, though surely someone must have waltzed upon this floor in all its many years. The marble was midnight blue in colour with sudden, unapologetic streaks if gold darting through; lightening forks piecing the silent sky. At the center of the floor, there was a white circle with a deeply embossed face; dull eyes stared into the room that surrounded them. They kept watch in the night.
Towering archways led off to all sides. Each was lit by huge waxy candles with wicks that glowed as if they had just been extinguished. They were placed in clusters, suspended by golden shackles, held tightly to the stone walls. Their sickly luminance displayed a golden leafed glare and when followed along the heavily wore wall, reviled a portrait painted in acrylic upon a large lily-white canvas with a golden frame. The portrait appeared to depict a young girl with tatty raven curls, ghostly sapphire eyes and almost translucently pale flesh, seated, dressed all in white. Her eyes too seemed to watch the scene.
The candlelight led the eye to a vast stone archway, towering high above all its counterparts. At the peak of the arch, stone head with a delicately crafted helmet glared down at the ground with its mouth open, filled with horrid warning gaped wide. Its glare pierced the cold, still, silent air with eyes that could not see, though their stare was filled with such fire that they appeared to see everything. The head instead of a neck had two large golden w=vines running down over the stone of the archway. They followed down until they reached a huge crimson curtain rippling from some unfelt wind, suspended only by the silken cord. The material acted as a curtain, though what it concealed was unclear.
The silken vines themselves hung down over the stone which itself was heavily cracked until on the left side one of the vines found itself in the hand of a stone angel with folded wings and a white cotton blindfold tied over her eyes. Who would blindfold a statue? The blindfold itself seemed far too new to be here, like the material that formed the curtain seemed out of place here. With a soft flutter, the blindfold fell away. This caused the angel to release her hold upon the wine and in turn caused a slackening on the curtain, allowing it to plummet to the earth. It reviled a huge mirror with a vast crack reaching diagonally from the top right-hand corner. Candles around the room suddenly were set alight. A strange unearthly wind ripped through the structure. “Step into the mirror.” A deafening voice bellowed from straight ahead, though the speaker could not be seen.