Liliana
Witches. That's what my sisters are.
The first thing I registered as my eyes opened was the cold. A deep, bone-chilling cold that seeped through my torn silver dress and settled into my skin. The second thing was the pain, a sharp and throbbing pain radiating from the back of my skull.
My vision blurred as I forced my eyes open, blinking against the dim, flickering light from a single bulb swinging lazily from the ceiling.
The room was small, the walls made of rough concrete, the floor uneven and stained. The air smelled of mildew, dust and rusted wood.
What is this place?
And where is Mikhail?
As my vision cleared, I looked up, standing before me, their faces twisted in cruel amusement, were my sisters.
How did I get there?
The last thing I remembered was waiting
