At first there was no one. Just the voice.
“Serafina.”
Her name was the velvet petal of a rose sliding down her skin. It was an explosion of taste as the sweet swirl of caramel and chocolate coated the tongue. It was the scent of a fresh tousled wind racing through a rush of trees.
The gossamer white gown shifted around her as if touched by a ghostly breeze while her body rose to a sitting position without any will of her own. Looking down, she noticed the black slate stone reflected her visage. Haunted, she stared at her face, though those were not her eyes looking back at her. Those eyes were green and they bore into her with promising hatred.
“Serafina, where are you, my little one?”
A red vapor blanketed the area in front of her, at first opaque, blooming
