Page 50 of The Eternal Mirror
I’m inside a large chamber with a high vaulted ceiling. Around the edges are what look like cell doors, all closed, and right in the center stands a mirror. A really freaky mirror that’s positively oozing crazy vibes.
It’s a mirror unlike any I’ve ever seen before. I approach it slowly. For starters, it’s bigger; it must be nearly ten feet tall, towering over me. A jagged crack runs diagonally from corner to corner. But the thing holds in place, whereas any normal mirror would shatter.
The frame is made of some sort of substance that seems to shimmer like stars in the dim light. Different colors. Floating, fluid. Coalescing. Swirling.
And the glass?
It’s darkness.
At least until I stand in front of it. A shiver runs through it, then I see my reflection. Which is a first. Magic mirrors never show reflections.
And yet there I am.
I can’t remember the last time I looked in a mirror. Is that really me?
I’m a freaking mess. I look like I’ve been dragged through a war zone backward, which is...fair. Note to self: plan for some personal grooming time.
I reach out a hand but stop before I get close enough to touch the glass. And I swear it hisses at me, like a sharp inhalation of breath. Does it want me to touch it?
I lean closer. Just for a second.
And the surface of the mirror—my reflection—shimmers, ripples. Not like water. Like something waking up. Cracks run through my reflection, and I splinter into a thousand tiny pieces. And beyond the shattered pieces, I see stars.
Not the night sky—not this world.
Something deeper. Older. Surrounded by rings of silver light, endless and spinning. I’ve seen this before. In that dream space where I met Khaosti. A mirror that isn't a mirror at all but a gateway. No—more than that. A source. A beginning.
It’s only a flash. A breath. Then it’s gone. My face returns, pale and shaken, eyes wide.
The hum of magic surrounds me—stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced at a mirror before. But the weird thing is—while there’s a flavor of Khronus’s magic here, I don’t get that feeling of wrongness. Just a sense of difference. All the same, touching it is probably not a good idea until I know a little more about what is going on. It might suck me in and spit me out...God knows where. One day I might be ready to find out. But not today. I made a promise to Zayne, and I intend to keep it.
I walk all the way around it. A jolt shoots from my foot, up my leg, flooding my body with a zing of power. I glance down. I’m standing on a silver line on the floor, and I shift my feet. There are others, multiple trails of silver, like veins etched into the stone.
I have a horrible feeling about this.
“What are you?” I murmur to the mirror.
And I have the strangest idea it wants to answer. But maybe we don’t speak the same language. Yet. It’s awakening, close to sentient, almost as though it knows I’m here and is trying to communicate with me.
I swallow hard, turn away, and follow one of the silver strands to a cell door.
This time when I whisper the opening spell, the lock clicks, and the door creaks open. Inside it’s dark. No torchlight, no flames. Just the sickly silver glow of the magic thread illuminating the space like moonlight through fog.
It leads to a figure chained against the wall.
A woman.
Or what’s left of one.
Her head droops against her chest, brittle hair hanging in matted clumps. She’s emaciated—stick-thin arms and legs, skin like parchment stretched over bones. Her grey shift dress hangs off her frame like a shroud. Her bare feet are swollen and cracked, her toenails dark with filth.
The smell hits me. Damp. Decay.Hopelessness.
Slowly, she raises her head, and her eyes meet mine. And there’s...nothing. No recognition. No fear. No flicker of awareness.
Justemptiness.
Her head drops again, as though holding it up is too much.
