Grend woke with a start, he hadn’t remembered even falling asleep, only that he’d been in the kitchen. And the mirror, he had been staring at the mirror. Shakily he got to his feet. It was well past time he was going to bed. He needed sleep. Tomorrow he and Frend had to take the wolfings on a patrol of the forest and its boundaries, to make sure no ambitious farmer thought to set up their homestead within the shadow of his Forest. Sighing he made his way for the stairs. But something made him take a final look at the mirror, an unconscious feeling drawing him to its surface. His eyes were heavy, he saw wrinkles under them as he stared, heavy wrinkles.

I really need to start using the mudbath more, he thought.

Reluctantly Grend was about to pull himself away from the mirror when he saw in the reflection the vague shape of a figure emerging behind him. He tried to force his head to turn, he was tired, exhausted even. The mirror was playing tricks on him. But he couldn’t, something held him fast. All he could do was stare unblinkingly as the figure slowly revealed itself.

Foxling, Grend realised with horror. All he could do was watch as a hand crept forward to rest on his shoulder. He strained his eyes to look sideways, he saw no hand, he felt nothing. There was no hand, he was sure of it. If he could only look away he would be free of whatever magic was holding him to the mirror. But he couldn’t.

“Grend,” The foxling’s voice opened and closed, a whisper in his ear.

“Look into the mirror Grend, look. All you must do is look. Feel the mirror, embrace it. It is yours, and you are its.”

The hand gripping his shoulder tightened, sharp nails dug into his skin and Grend saw trickles of thick red blood flow down his shoulder onto his chest.

His eyes widened of their own accord, he had not taken them off the mirror but now when he looked his vision blurred such was the intensity radiating off its surface, a burning sensation began to take hold of him. He felt as if his eyes were melting, slowly being roasted from the inside out.

“All you must do is listen Grend, listen.”

Grend could no longer make out the face of the Foxling but his voice was everywhere now, enveloping him in a comforting embrace.

“Listen to me and repeat what I say Grend.”

Grend found himself nodding, though he hadn’t meant to.

“I am the mirror and the mirror is me.” Foxling whispered.

“I am the mirror and the mirror is me.” Grend repeated.

“What I see is what I believe.”

“What I see is what I believe.”

“When I shut my eyes again,”

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“When I shut my eyes again,”

“It has my soul, my heart and limbs,”

“It has my soul, my heart and limbs,”

“This I swear to always keep,”

“This I swear to always keep,”

“Now until the end, awake or asleep.”

“Now until the end, awake or asleep.”

Grend finally felt a release and instantly shut his eyes. He breathed for the first time in what seemed an age.

He felt a great sense of relief, as if a great burden had been taken off him. He kept his eyes closed, it was better like like that, alone and safe in the darkness. He felt no need to open them, not now. Now he just wanted to rest. That was his one and only desire, all else could wait for now.

Forever perhaps.

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Frend wiped the sleep from his eyes and yawned deeply. Sitting upright in the bed he knew something was wrong. Grend wasnt sleeping in the bed across from him. More worryingly the sheets had not been tussled or left in a heap beside the bed.

He never slept? Frend felt an uneasy sensation in his stomach as he rolled out of his own bed. Grend often stayed up later than him. But there had never ever been one occasion where Frend had woken up without hearing or seeing Grend lying in the bed across from him. He knew something was wrong.

Hastily getting dressed he half ran half jumped down the stairs. He let out an audible sigh of relief as he saw Grend sat with his back facing him still sitting in the exact spot he had left him last night.

Still staring at that bloody mirror, Frend decided then and there he wouldn’t be stealing any mirror, he didn’t like the way his brother looked at this one.

He supposed he’d fallen asleep in the chair staring at it.

Frend chuckled to himself and stopped gingerly towards his brother. He was going to shock him awake, served him right for falling asleep in the kitchen. Only children did that. And he and Grend were not children.

As he crept closer he paused. There was no sound coming from Grend. None at all. Frend could not count the number of times his brother’s snoring had kept him awake and yet there was nothing. As he looked closer his brow furrowed further when he realised Grend was sat up straight in the chair. In a position from which no one, not even he could have slept in. Panicking Frend forgot all about shocking his Brother awake, he just wanted him awake now. He strode the few steps between them and shook Grend hard, hard enough to wake any man or beast. His Brother flopped lifelessly in his arms. He felt cold too. But not a normal cold. Frend knew how a dead person looked and felt, he’d killed often enough. His Brother had that cold within him now.

He sighed with relief then when Grend’s head finally turned to meet him.

Frend was about to call out in happiness when his Brother’s eyes met his own.

Except they weren’t his Brother’s eyes. Instead of looking into deep brown eyes almost identical to his own now only two completely pitch-black eyes stared back at him.

Frend stumbled backwards.

“Grr..Grend? Grend? Brother?”

“Hello Frend.”

Frend looked around in confusement as a voice echoed around the room. It took him a minute to find its source. The mirror.