Page 50 of Mirror of Vanity

Then, as if compelled by some unseen force, the figure in the painting shifted, the mirror in its hands tilting to reveal a shimmering, tangible reflection. The air around us grew cold, and the edges of the painting blurred, stretching toward us like fingers of fog.

We moved closer cautiously, the reflection growing clearer. It was not a mirror in the painting. It was a portal, revealing another part of the Archive, a secluded room shrouded in darkness. Inside, we could barely make out the silhouette of a large, ornate mirror, its surface gleaming with a strange light.

I stepped toward the painting, my heart pounding a rapid staccato. The surface of the glass rippled and shimmered like a pond disturbed by a sudden breeze. I thought I caught a glimpse of something moving on the other side. A flicker of shadow, a hint of some vast, unknowable space.

Justice’s hand on my arm was warm and solid, an anchor in the swirling uncertainty. “Be careful,” he whispered.

“I will,” I promised.

Then he was kissing me, his lips hard and urgent against mine. I clung to him, my fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt as if by holding him close enough, I could somehow merge our souls.

In that kiss, I tasted all the things we never said, all the dreams we never dared to voice. I tasted the future we longed for, the life we wanted to build together, free from the shadow of curses and ancient evils.

I also tasted the bitter edge of fear, the knowledge that the path ahead was uncertain and fraught with danger. By walking through that mirror, I was stepping into the unknown, leaving behind everything and everyone I held dear.

When we finally broke apart, breathing hard, the love and terror in my heart reflected in Justice’s eyes. Beneath that, I also saw trust. A certainty that if anyone could face the trials ahead and emerge victorious, it was me.

“I love you,” I whispered, the words feeling both sacred and inadequate.

“I love you too,” he replied, his hand cupping my cheek with infinite tenderness. “Now go. Find the answers we need. I’ll be here, waiting for you.”

With a final nod, I faced the mirror painting, squared my shoulders, and took a deep breath. Then, with a silent prayer to the Fae warriors who watched from the stained glass above, I stepped forward, feeling the cool, unearthly surface yield like water as I passed through to the other side.

The change in atmosphere immediately struck me. The air here was warm and fragrant, carrying a scent that reminded me of summer fields and blooming gardens. It was a stark contrast to the musty, oppressive stillness of the Archive of Shadows, and some of the tension and fear drained from my body as I breathed it in.

The light continued to grow, becoming almost blinding in its intensity. I squinted, raising a hand to shield my eyes. As I did, I noticed a small, round table materializing in front of me as if coalescing from the brightness.

On the table rested a golden hand mirror, its surface gleaming with an inner radiance. The handle was intricately carved, adorned with delicate roses that seemed to sway and bloom as I watched. It was a thing of breathtaking beauty and palpable power. I felt the energy emanating from it, a subtle but insistent hum that vibrated in my bones.

I swallowed hard and gingerly picked up the mirror by its handle. The metal was warm to the touch, almost as if alive. As my fingers closed around it, a jolt of energy surged through me like a lightning bolt coursing through my veins. I gasped, my vision swimming as I heard a voice whispering directly into my ear.

“Your enemy is the Demons of Pride.” Each word resonated with a strange, unearthly power. “Show them the mirror, and they will return to hell. You must leave now. The creature in the Archives is a hellhound, sent to kill you if you found the mirror.”

Fear gripped me like a cold winter wind. “How do we get out of here?”

“Face the mirror toward a wall, and you’ll escape the Archive of Shadows.”

I bowed my head. “Thank you.”

I shivered as goosebumps raced along my skin. The voice was female and hauntingly familiar. For a fleeting instant, I thought it might be my mother, the same gentle but firm tone she had used when guiding me through life’s challenges.

That was impossible, though. My mother was gone, lost to me years ago. Yet, the feeling of her presence, her love and wisdom, lingered like a ghostly caress.

And a hellhound? Seriously? Legend had it those things would rip you to pieces. I had to get Justice and Garrick out of here.

For a split second, I stared at the mirror, my reflection wavering and indistinct in its golden surface. I sensed I was standing on the edge of a great precipice, and the knowledge and power I now held could change the course of everything.

After drawing a deep breath, I turned back toward the shimmering portal that had brought me to this place.

I stepped through, and the warm, golden light of the mirror realm gave way to the dim, dusty ambiance of the Archive of Shadows. I felt disoriented, my senses struggling to adjust to the sudden change.

I blinked at the familiar sight of the towering bookshelves and the eerie glow of the stained-glass window. Justice stood a few feet away, his handsome face etched with worry as he paced back and forth. Garrick slumped in a nearby wooden chair, his head lolling to the side as he slept.

Justice whirled at the sound of my footsteps. His eyes widened with relief and joy. In an instant, he was rushing toward me, his arms outstretched.

I met him halfway, sinking into his embrace as he wrapped me in his strong, comforting warmth. The mirror was still clutched in my hand, its golden surface cool against my skin, a tangible reminder of the mysterious realm I had left behind.

Justice held me tightly. “Where have you been?” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “You’ve been gone for hours.”

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