For the second time that evening, Alya feels a cold shiver run through her as she prepares to leave her room; it felt as if someone had run an icy finger down her back while slowly tracing the outline of her spine.
The small hairs on the back of Alya’s neck begin to stand on end as she tries to compose herself and scan the room for what was making her feel so nervous all of a sudden. Looking around the room, Alya could not see anything out of the ordinary; or rather she could not fathom what was suddenly bothering her so much.
Then noticing the old pedestal by the door, Alya gasps loudly as it finally dawns on her as to what felt so very wrong and was disturbing her so much. The pedestal, along with everything else in the room, had changed.
The small table no longer looked old and worn looking from the many years of use it had seen; it now had a smooth polished finish to it without any chips or scratches in sight. In the centre of the pedestal there now stood a large ceramic jug of water, which only moments ago had been a potted plant.
Turning her head, Alya notices that the walls were also no longer peeling where the paint had dried out over the years; instead they were smooth and gave off a faint odour of fresh paint.
Still in a daze with her mouth open in disbelief and trying to comprehend what was going on, Alya barely heard another knock at her door and this time it was followed by a voice; "Truicidor Alyania Helineed, we require your assistance."
