The woman sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed on her lap, watching him.
“How did you get here?” his vision blurred. He tried to move but the sharp pain denied him the movement. He was in his bed, bandaged, and treated. He was vulnerable and there was no one in the room.
“Don’t bother, no one is nearby,” she began before he tried to shout about the intruder. “Not that anyone would be able to do anything even if you called.”
There was nothing that he could use to defend himself with, aside from the lamp, but he doubted he could do much with that. “Who are you, and what do you want with me?”
“I have given you my name, long ago, and was always around, waiting,” she laughed, and it sounded a lot younger than she looked. It sounded childish, almost. “For this moment – Not for the moment you woke up, but for this moment, the moment where our agreement comes to its prophetic end.”
“Prophetic end?” he frowned. “Why do you keep on insisting that we know one another?” he said, more tired than he thought he would be.
“Once you are ready to chase after the girl, to finish this, come,” the woman stood and placed a small napkin where she once sat, before leaving the room and vanishing from his sight.
He took the napkin from the edge of the street. An emblem was embroidered on the folded corner, one he recognized. Old man John's.
----------------------------------------
Oscar rolled his shoulder a few times, wincing when the cuts got pulled. The physician said they would be fine, the cuts were sharp enough that they managed to heal in a couple of days or something.
God his body felt so rigid.
He walked through the main street of Garden then to an alley, where the sign with the familiar needle and threads emblem on a wooden round board.
John’s Coutures.
The door opened with a jingle.
“Welcome, how may-” the old man frowned, “young master?”
“Hello John,” Oscar smiled, taking a look around the shop.
“Choosing a more casual look today, master?” the old man said after scanning him. He chose a duelist attire, a long-sleeved, white silk shirt with form-fitting pants. He brought the saber and the gun along, too.
“More practical,” Oscar smiled as he approached the man and placed the napkin on the counter, “your work, I hope?”
The old man took the napkin, checking the embroidery. “Mine,” he nodded, “how did you come across this?”
“Some old woman left it,” he watched as the man’s face changed.
“I see,” he took the napkin away. “Follow me.”
“What is going on here, John?” Oscar followed. “Who is that woman? Are you in on this?”
The man led quietly, towards the back.
“Do you know who owns that napkin?” he tried again.
The man went into the room and walked towards an object covered in clothes, he could already guess what it was. John pulled the sheet and revealed the mirror beneath.
“Explain,” Oscar looked at John, arm on the gun, just in case. “Now.”
“I made a deal with someone or something,” the old man's hands shook while holding the sheet. “That thing… I needed money, I was new in the city, and it paid me a lot, promised me to have better work, and the right customers.” he stared at the mirror that revealed “Asked me to keep this thing here, make it a napkin, and when the napkin comes again…”
“You bring the person with the napkin here,” Oscar finished. That thing met with John before he worked for his family, and that was a very long time ago. “Unbelievable,” he whispered under his breath.
“The only other thing that I was supposed to do was to leave you here with the mirror,” John began moving.
“One more thing,” the man froze, “why was my family’s crest flipped, John?”
“Excuse me, master?” he frowned.
“The crest on the doublet, it was facing the wrong direction, the left,” Oscar looked into the man’s eyes as the confusion built up.
“It was facing the left because the Whitmonds griffin faces the left,” John pointed at the gun and rapier. “Both facing left.
They were. Was Cleo… “What else do you know?”
“That is all I know, master, really,” the tailor bowed before he left the room.
Oscar frowned and touched the mirror’s surface. It reflected his image back, no rippling, no weirdness.
“I shouldn’t be surprised that you remember nothing.”
The old woman was standing beside him, somehow. He turned just in time to see her face changing appearance as he turned. She was younger now, not by much, but enough that he noticed the change.
“Answers,” he demanded as his gun aimed at her.
The young woman studied him for a bit before the smile on her face widened. “Seven years ago, exactly at the moment when the monster attacked,” her hair began to change in length and shape, along with her strange youthening.
He blinked, trying to stay focused on her. “The day I left the house?”
“Echoes, they are called,” she moved towards the mirror, touching it. “Creatures that live in the mirror world, they came out of the mirror in your room,” she gave the mirror a couple of knocks and then walked away. He kept his gun aimed at her, as best as he could. She was a redhead of less than twenty years, now. “No one noticed them as they crawled out of the mirror and chased after one Oscar Whitmond. Only…”
“Only?” he groaned.
“They found out that he was not in his room, he was somewhere in the city, chasing after a sweetheart of his.”
“Cleo,” he frowned.
“They had limited time before they were pulled back, trapped on the other side,” she went and leaned against the door. “They would have to wait seven years for their next attempt if they failed.”
“Seven years. The moment they attacked again…” he looked into the now empty mirror, it reflected nothing. “They went after me, and somehow you and I met and formed some sort of deal?” like what happened with John.
Her body was shrinking, becoming a child’s. “We made a deal, you and I. You help me, I help you when the time comes.”
“And pray to tell, what did I do to help you?” Oscar stood in front of the mirror.
“You rescue me from an Echo that had me trapped in a cage, and I’ll give you the tools to fight the one that’s shaped like you. We made the deal using my name.”
“The ring,” he frowned. “Hardly something that can fight off those abominations.” At least during that attack.
“The ring is merely a compass, a pointer, something that would guide you toward that girl,” the creature shrunk further and sprouted a pair of glittering wings. “The girl who is right next to your double.”
“A pixie,” he huffed out, “why am I not surprised?”
“Because you remember, somewhere in that spiky head of yours,” she flew towards him, squeaking in what he assumed was a giggle. “The only other help you would get from me is guidance in there and knowledge.”
Oscar turned towards the mirror, thoughtful. Knowledge against the unknown, a path into it. He’d heard of fae and their twisted deals and he wasn’t sure if his younger self had the wit or intrigue to beat one of those in negotiations.
“Do I have a choice?”
She laughed, hard, in a small sharp voice and moved to his side. “Always.”
He thought for a moment before swearing under his breath. Cleo was in there. “There is no other choice, is there?”
They stepped into the mirror.
----------------------------------------
It felt like he was underwater, for a moment, before the step out took him into a room similar to the tailor’s backroom that he was in. More crystalline, somewhat shimmering, but the same room.
The pixie sat on his shoulder, legs over one another.
“We have until midnight before this portal closes,” the pixie said. “When those threads vanish from the ring.
“Seven years?” Oscar began moving to the door.
“For you, yes,” she said, “the other you is already stuck for another seven.”
“Not you, though,” the door opened, but the rest of the shop wasn’t behind it. It was part of the street, and it made him stagger for a moment.
The street extended for a few steps before it cut off and jagged edges meshed together with another street, then another. They weren’t evenly spaced, some were a lot longer than others.
There was the occasional… broken tree, which was the best he could describe it as. Some a floating trunk. Some foliage alone. Others just shattered and cracked. He could even see dismembered, serrated parts of chariots.
Buildings, parts of them, buildings whole.
Everything was as crystalline as the interior of the shop was.
“Don’t attract the attention of the broken Echoes,” the pixie said, tone amused, but slightly more serious. “It wouldn’t end if it began.”
He turned to see the creature, much like the one that was in his yard. Long-legged, small body at the top. “Broken?”
“They are fragments of reflections, a collection of different things. A cracked window reflecting a horse’s head, a bird on a lamp’s polished post, things that aren’t whole, they try to make themselves whole,” she explained as the creatures walked close to them. He walked back into the shop and waited for it to pass. “They won’t notice you unless you get close to them.”
“And the image that looked like me, it’s a whole Echo or something,” he looked at the tiny, amused pixie. “What does it want with me?”
“It wants to be Oscar,” she answered, “His life. His wealth. The family,” she turned her head towards him, her mouth revealing shark-like rows of sharp teeth. “His sweetheart.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“That’s why it kidnapped Cleo?” he moved after checking the streets for more of those Echoes. The tall one was already out of sight, he could feel the shaking in the crystal ground, though.
“They are weak to smashing,” the pixie ignored his question, “that blade of yours will do little more than crack their shell. Unless you manage to hit the same spot a few times, mister duelist.”
“I have the gun,” he frowned as he tried to figure out where to go. “I brought bullets. The rapier might save my life, here or there.” he was embarrassed to admit he forgot about his last encounter with his double, how the rapier did nothing.
“I’m afraid I have no magic weapons to help you,” she laughed.
Magic. He looked at the ring. It was doing… something. The threads were writhing through the material, the black gemstone glowing slightly. One thread was crawling out of it, pointing. He followed.
He had to jump around a few of those jagged meshing edges, trying his best not to get cut on those very sharp-looking protrusions.
“You have a name, pixie?” he asked.
“One that you forgot, because of our deal,” she replied, “you may call me Mana.”
“Real names and power, huh?” he moved around a corner of a building that jutted out in the middle of the street. He recognized the place.
“It’s why I have to help you,” she fluttered her wings. At least his child self was smart enough to not fall into the trap of a faekin. Hopefully. He saw another one of those building chunks, it looked familiar, too. He frowned and approached the piece.
“I know this place,” he touched the broken stone, “we broke this, me and Nathaniel. When we were chased by his father,” Oscar looked around the chunk, seeing how it fused to other building chunks, trying to pose as a building it wasn’t.
A chunk that reflected light as it moved around.
The building crustacean came out of the chunks that formed its ‘building shell’. Razor legs and bulky crystal claws were directed where its oval eyes saw. Him.
“Run,” Mana said.
He bolted.
Around a distortedly long building. Through a window – that hurt his limbs as he crashed through – around what he assumed was a living room where the furniture was gnawed on by pickaxes.
He heard crashing nearby, so he did not stop. The kitchen, or whatever mimicry that passed for one. A surprisingly heavy door that led to a… back alley?
The crashing became screeching as crystals scratched against crystals.
Oscar glanced at the ring, readjusted, and moved toward the pointer. Over a yard’s fence – where a timid crystal rabbit hid – then over the other. Across a small street and into the main street – or what looked like a horrible child's drawing of it.
“Over there,” Mana flew in front, reaching a small folded house. He followed.
Into the empty house with the small furniture and inwards arcing roof.
He leaned against the wall and slipped to the floor. Taking his breath as he saw a pack of dog-sized cats with knife legs come out to see the source of the noise, moving at a ridiculous speed. The crustacean was also there, lumbering, moving slowly towards the main street with that fake house on its back.
Oscar watched, alert, ready to move at a hair’s snap.
“We might have to stay here for a bit,” Mana said as the cats circled the place. He agreed.
“I think I might be more injured than I thought,” he groaned. Every bone in his body felt cracked every joint stiff. Every finger covered in crystal-
He jumped.
“What in the hells is this?” he hissed.
“You are changing because you are in the mirror realm,” Mana sat on a tiny window sill, watching the outside. “Don’t worry, you will return to normal once you leave.”
“Why aren’t you changing then?” she barely had anything that resembled a shimmer on her, aside from that awful glittery pixie dust stuff.
“Because I killed my other self,” the pixie stretched, uncaring.
“Yeah,” he huffed, “explains everything.” it didn’t. She was content on ignoring him anyhow.
Boy, he felt dizzy.
Oscar’s vision blurred out before he blacked out.
“Wake up,” Mana kicked at his face.
“Wa- what?” he groaned as she kicked again. “Stop this.”
“You are running out of time,” she squealed.
He jolted awake.
The ring was almost entirely clear now, just a few strands of thread left. “Damn it,” he got up and went out the door. It was darker, now. The shimmer was replaced with a soft reflection of lunar light, revealing an empty street.
Damned saber-legged cats and giant building crabs. “Why didn’t you tell me they left?” he broke into a run, crossing into the main street.
“You looked so peaceful sleeping like that,” Mana rolled her tiny eyes, “you slept like a friggin’ troll, too.”
Thankfully the run was mostly uneventful, most of the crystal creatures he met seemed uninterested in him. He managed to make it all the way to the place where a gate with the Whitmond’s crest.
“The mirror version of our mansion,” he extended a wrist-length crystal arm to push it open and it moved with ease.
“Whatever is reflected of it,” the pixie laughed, watching the deformed hedge maze. “A lot more mazey than the one in the real world, mind you.”
He stood in the yard, watching crystal creatures swarming the place. Still uninterested.
The mansion looked like a defilement of the original, bent and swirly, more a shattered crystal tower than a two-floored stone mansion.
“You need to take her there,” Mana pointed towards what could be this world’s version of his room. “The mirror she came through.”
He nodded. The threads pointed to the maze, hovering like spider silk in the wind, so he followed.
Taking the still familiar turns until he reached the middle.
“Cleo?” he pulled out the gun as he heard dull thuds.
She was there, inside a crystal prison, striking against the walls. “Cleo,” he rushed towards the structure. “Mana! How do I get her out?”
“Crush the prison?” she shrugged. “Might wanna hurry, though, things are moving this way.”
“Stay down!” he gestured at Cleo, waiting for her to drop to the ground and covering her head before he squeezed the gun. It went with a bang that left behind a tiny crack. So he fired, again and again, and then twice more.
The webbed cracks spread with each shot, until they covered the entire surface of the prison crystal. He kicked the surface a couple of times for it to give and offer an opening. He reached in and expanded it until he could pull Cleo out.
The threads of his ring met the threads on hers before the rings were reduced to shards.
“Are you okay, are you hurt?” he checked her for injuries, she seemed mostly unharmed.
“Your hand,” she cried, “your cheek…” she touched it, and he could only feel a rasp instead of the gentle touch he was familiar with.
“It’s okay,” he held her hand with his normal one, “I’ll return to normal once we leave.”
She nodded. He grabbed her hand and led her, much like that day of the attack. “That thing, the one that looked like you, it's insane.”
“Don’t worry, it won’t hurt you,” he assured her.
Out of the maze. Into the house. The twisted grandhall. The broken stairs. The room. They reached the decorated mirror.
“Okay, you should go through,” Oscar pushed Cleo gently.
“What about you?” she said.
“I’ll be right behind you,” he smiled to reassure her, “once I make sure you are safe.”
She nodded and stepped through. The mirror rippled as she did.
He hit a solid mirror when he followed. Again. Damn it.
Cleo hit the surface of the mirror, more dull thuds. “Don’t worry, I’ll use another mirror!” he touched the mirror, and she mirrored the gesture. “Meet me at old John’s shop, the backroom!” He ran out.
“Mana?” he called. Oscar did not notice when the pixie disappeared.
Did he have to go through the other mirror? Did he have any time left for that?
The stairs. The hall. The yard.
Where his Echo waited for him. His Double. Holding the pixie in his hand.
“Now we end this,” it grinned.
“You okay?” he asked Mana, she replied with a weak nod. “Release her.”
“This traitorous thing?” he squeezed, making the pixie scream in pain. “She is the entire reason we are in this place. You and I.”
“Release her,” he repeated.
The double hurled the pixie on the ground before it pulled on the crystal rapier. Oscar prepared his own and prepared for the assault. It helped little, his body felt like it was built with wood and rocks.
“Getting morphed, are we?” the double laughed as it jabbed towards his neck, the rapier bouncing off a crystal shell that formed there.
Oscar breathed heavily as he touched his neck, that would’ve been a killing blow if the crystals weren’t spreading there. The Double was content on watching him suffer. Wasting time.
Time he realized he didn’t have.
“You are trying to trap me here,” Oscar circled the man, moving towards the pixie.
“Not for long, just until your mirror closes,” the Echo waved the rapier in the air, “before I gut you.”
“You okay there, Mana?”
“Yeah, just a bruised ego,” she flew, making distance. “You won’t make it to the mirror in time, you have to destroy him.”
The double jumped again, jabbing a few times. Oscar tried his best to dodge, trying to get used to this awkward feeling. He returned a few jabs back, they glanced off the hardened skin. “Easier said than done,” he whispered.
“Ah, how long I waited for this,” the creature circled him, “the day I have my revenge against you.”
“You’ve hurt my father, my mother, kidnapped Cleo,” Oscar tried to keep a proper distance away from the double. “What did I ever do to you?”
“You took the life I deserved!” the Echo snapped before rushing in, edge meeting edge. “Everything!”
“Jealousy,” Oscar remarked, letting disdain drip from every word. The creature seemed to have a temper, and it might give him an edge he so desperately needed.
“The pixie didn’t tell you,” the Echo laughed as he turned to Mana, “you didn’t tell him?”
Oscar swirled the rapier and struck the man’s face as he turned, earning nothing more than a chip on his exterior.
He even ignored him, choosing to watch the pixie instead. He wouldn’t complain that he got more openings. He pulled the gun and shot the last bullet towards the chest as the thing dodged. He heard a cracking noise as the bullet ricocheted off the chest.
“Oh,” Oscar stood straight, “was that a weakness?”
“It was,” Mana laughed.
“The heart,” Oscar noted.
“Traitorous scum,” the creature hissed. “Sylvia!” Mana screeched when he called the name.
The pixie rushed to Oscar's side while still hissing like a cat at the double.
“So that’s your name,” Oscar smiled, “good to know, Sylvia.”
“I won’t make any more deals with you,” she said, “you better end him now.”
“That’s the plan,” Oscar huffed out before closing the distance again. An exchange of blows ringed through the yard, he kept trying to get an opening to the chest, which he noticed was slightly cracked at the center, and the creature kept going for his arms and legs.
Until it didn’t.
The blade came for his chest, at an angle too hard to block with his petrifying arms. The rapier landed, it bit into flesh before giving a sharp screech as it went deeper.
The Echo kicked him. “Seems like you have a heart of stone,” it gave him a cold look.
“Not the best compliment I’ve received,” Oscar opened the shirt to examine the wound, there was blood around the skin, but crystals underneath. Saved, again.
“It would seem like we are both stuck here, now,” Mana said, “Shall we make a deal?”
“What manner of a deal?” the Echo growled.
“Yeah, what manner of a deal?” Oscar whispered.
“You can’t kill him now with that dumb crystal weapon of yours. You wouldn’t want to wait seven years to try again, would you?”
“What?” Oscar blinked.
“And he can kill you, but it will take forever using this dumb weapon of his.”
“You suggest that we duel under your magic,” the Echo said, “the loser becomes…” he wagged a finger at her. “Food.”
“More or less,” the pixie grinned.
“Again. What?”
“Fine, I agree if you use your magic,” the Echo interrupted, “make it a duel between the two of us, three strikes to the heart.”
Oscar frowned as he looked at Mana – Sylvia. She gave him a look, something was in play here.
“After three strikes, the loser dies,” the creature continued. “You get the story, the drama you crave, the poetic ending. The food.”
“He can’t harm your heart,” she whispered, “his blade is of the same crystal stuff.”
“So the fight is going in my favor,” Oscar protested.
“Not for long,” she replied, “you will become a crystal before he even breaks a sweat. You are both pressed for time,” she replied.
“On your name, Sylvia,” he called, “make an arena where the two of us can fight.”
“I’ll fix both of your attires,” she said. “Your dumb weapons too.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” the Echo grinned.
“Then on my name,” the pixie laughed as she rose in the air. “An arena for a duel, the first to get struck thrice in his heart loses his life.”
The place shimmered slightly before changing into a dueling room similar to the one he trained in. The echo was becoming more fleshy, and Oscar was losing the crystals that covered his body.
“A fair fight, made by a pixie,” the double touched the skin, “should’ve known better.”
The pixie laughed and floated around the arena, watching them both. “It’s up to you, now, pretty boy.”
Oscar huffed as he watched himself stand across from him. He held the blade in his left hand, as the mirror image held it in its right. They both saluted before taking a dueling stance.
He had to fight himself and win.
He also smiled upon noticing that his gun chambers were also ‘repaired’.
----------------------------------------
Cleo paced around the backroom, where old John left her.
He said he was coming back through this mirror. So she waited. She waited until it was beyond midnight.
And that was when she saw it.
The mirror rippled and she rushed for the hug.