Felspear’s Graveyard

The graveyard stretches out in front of Rowan, headstones jutting out from beneath like broken teeth. Michael, the groundskeeper walks behind Rowan, and she’s suddenly frozen in place. Ollie stops mid-snarl as Michael walks around to face Rowan.
 
“Well, well, well. What a coincidence to meet you here.” Michael speaks with a voice that isn’t his, and Rowan realizes that this is not the Micheal she knows.
 
“Who are you?” Rowan says, holding back a shudder as Micheal smiles cruelly. The illusion twists and bends, shattering into uneven shards. Lydia stands before Rowan instead, revealing herself by tossing away her disguise. Her cloak covers her right arm, and her priestess garb is stained and torn. Her face is twisted into a devious grin.

Rowan chokes on her words, managing to let an “You’re ok! You’re safe!” escape her lungs.
 
“Always the optimist.” Lydia’s face darkens, observing Rowan with sharp eyes.
 
“Someone’s got to be.” Rowan replies, still paralyzed in place.
 
“That’s one of the things I always hated about you. You’re always so optimistic, it’s... almost blinding.” Lydia sighs, stepping closer to Rowan.
 
Rowan’s smile drops. When she speaks again, her voice shakes.
 
“What? You hate me?”
 
“You’re always so happy, and bright, and optimistic, and it blinds you from how fucked this world can be.” Rowan attempts to speak, but Lydia reaches out a hand and squeezes. Rowan’s chest twinges painfully as the spell’s grip coils tighter around her.
 
“If somehow, you just--no, no matter. Your new friends have made a bit of a hurdle for us. Some of you are trying to cause a bit of a wave. But we’ll see to it that it doesn’t happen.” Lydia raises her hand, holding a graveyard shovel above Rowan’s head.
 
“Lydia, please listen. You’re my best friend, you should know me better than anyone else. If I’m blind, it’s because I haven’t gotten a chance to see the world.” Rowan stumbles over her words, wincing as the spell constricts further.
 
“If you hate me, then show me how to be better. Teach me what I should be doing instead. I promise I’ll listen and try my best to correct what I’m doing wrong.” Rowan pleads with Lydia, her voice cutting off as the spell presses against her windpipe.
 
Lydia smirks, slamming the shovel into Rowan’s temple. Rowan meets Lydia’s eyes, and hears a distant crunch. Her ears ring, and she feels something warm drip down her cheek. Rowan’s vision begins to blur and darken, her head spinning wildly as Lydia drops the shovel and gently places her hands on Rowan’s head.
 
Everything goes dark.
 
Rowan wakes up in the dark, surrounded by iron bars in a claustrophobic cage. Surrounded by people she doesn’t know, wondering what happened to her. If her new friends will find her in time.
 
Rowan finds that she has plenty of time to puzzle over why she can’t recall the last several hours. Her head throbs, and she decides it’s not worth thinking about anyways. Surely it wasn’t too important.