Chapter 3: The Forest of Mirrors
Nobody knows how big the Forest of Mirrors is. Land in Anathema isn’t like land in the human world. There are parts of it that you can’t measure because it doesn’t want to be measured. Anathema values her mysteries, and she may change what is known about the land just to be enigmatic again. I know only that the Forest of Mirrors is massive, and that if you went in with the goal of traveling all the way through it and reaching the other side, you could not carry enough supplies on your back to easily accomplish your objective. Have there been those who made it to the other side? Perhaps. We do not know, because they never came back to tell us what they found. Maybe it goes on forever. Once I told a human about the size of the Forest of Mirrors, and they told me it was impossible. They couldn’t fathom an endless forest. Most humans have incredibly small minds.
Today, as I approach the Forest of Mirrors, the sky is purple and there are wisp clouds shaped like compressed horseshoes. It looks like someone took a thin cloud and punched it right in the middle. I can’t discern any meaning from it. Sometimes Anathema’s mood or desires are impossible to know. Many trees of the forest grow so immense that it is common for local Keenlings to create hollows in their trunks and live inside without even damaging the tree. Smaller, darker-colored trees live below the massive canopy. These are shadowborn plants, plants that do not need light to survive. Shadowborn plants are treated with great reverence, as it is believed that their roots help keep the Lightcaller bound beneath Anathema.
There are often things inside the Forest of Mirrors that defy explanation. Sometimes the animals will have no heads. Sometimes they’ll have two or three heads. Some animals might speak in languages no scholar can translate. Yet others will lose all their fur and become covered with thorns or spines. I’ve heard tales of deer with no skin munching on a bush or drinking from a pond, and rabbits that scream like frightened children when startled.
You’ll find strange structures in the Forest. Doors standing upright, with no building on either side. Stairs leading down into darkness or up to nothing at all. I found a delicate marble fountain, once, the kind you’d see in a High Uaisle’s manor garden. It did not circulate water but instead spewed gritty arcs of black. When I took a closer look at the black ‘liquid’, I found it to be comprised completely of tiny spiders the size of crushed peppercorn grains.
But, of course, the most common items found in the Forest of Mirrors are, not surprisingly, the mirrors. The mirrors hold no similarity to one another. One might be free-standing, with a wood frame. Another might seemingly be affixed to a tree, looking as if the bark has grown to hold it in place. Still others hang from ropes, are set into the ground, or even float in mid-air. But, none of them reflect the forest. Instead, they show scenes seen in mirrors across the human world. From the Forest of Mirrors, it is easy for the denizens of Anathema to watch humans as they go about their lives.
If a mirror from the Forest of Mirrors is removed, it will begin to reflect as mirrors normally do. Only from within the forest itself can the mirrors be used.
The Mirror Academy’s pavilion on the edge of the forest is made of vinelike wood that looks as if it grew the structure in that specific shape. Even the steps leading up to it are made of twisted branches with their thick roots emerging from the ground beneath the bottom step. Those who have ventured here to become Mirrorwalkers, commonly known as Mirrors, mill about chatting with each other. I watch as they are called, one by one, to the pavilion. There, an altar has grown. At the center of it, a book is attached by its spine to the altar, allowing the pages of the book to be turned, but not allowing it to be lifted off of the altar. If you were to cut the book away, not only would it wither and become unreadable, but another would grow where it once stood. These things belong to Anathema, and stealing from her is inadvisable.
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Three Archmagi are required for the ritual. They petition Anathema to accept the candidate as a Mirrorwalker, one who can move between Anathema and the human world. Sometimes, candidates are rejected. Nobody but Anathema knows why.
When it is my turn, I climb the steps of the pavilion and place my hands on either side of the living book. I speak my name and vines grow from the altar, wrapping around my fingers and wrists, securing them in place. A sudden breeze flips a few pages of the book to a blank one, and I watch as green ink begins to bleed through the page, writing in my name and details about my life and status. When it writes my parents’ names and lists them as ‘deceased’, I look away, focusing instead on one of the three chanting Archmagi. She’s a Uaisle, with skin of dark blues and purples and eyes to match. As she casts magic, sections of her skin sparkle, reminding me of the moon upon the lake near my home village of Ab-polsk. When I look down again, I can’t help but compare it with my own skin. They used to call us swineskins, for the similarity of our flesh to that of pigs. Mine is less pink, though. It looks more like the stalk of a common mushroom, too beige to be interesting. Even with the vines wrapped around my hands, holding them in place, I can see the hereditary marks of the Garbh, the eight-pointed sunburst that marks our shame.
“Speak your oath now, may Anathema hear it!” one of the Archmagi declares.
I have the oath memorized and have to speak loudly to be heard over the chanting of the Archmagi. “I swear by my blood that I shall serve honorably as a Mirrorwalker. I shall never use my position to harm Anathema or to increase the power of the Lightcaller. I shall do my utmost to return any magic stolen by Prometheus back to the lands of Anathema. I shall give the human world no permanent knowledge or power which might allow them to harm residents of Anathema. If I should be false in my oath, may my blood spill upon the ground to feed the roots of the nearest shadowborn tree.”
The magic swells, as the chanting rises and for a brief moment, I wonder if Anathema will reject me. She does not seem to have a preference between the Uaisle and the Garbh, any Aesidhe can serve as a Mirrorwalker. But, maybe she knows too much. Maybe she has heard the cries of the residents of Ab-polsk, cursing my name. I would not blame her for rejecting me. Truthfully, I wouldn’t blame her for killing me.
Suddenly, pain shoots through my hands. A wooden thorn has grown up from the altar and punctured each of them directly in the center of my palms. Despite the pain, I am relieved. The flowing blood means Anathema accepts me. The first step in my plan has been achieved.
“Congratulations,” Archmagus Ryvil says after I’ve stepped down from the platform. He’s ready with linen bandage strips to tie around my hands. Normally, anything that would hide the sigil of the Garbh would be frowned upon, but nobody would accuse me of trying to hide our shame here. “Come, come. Let’s get you set up with your first mission.”
Behind me, I hear the next applicant being brought into the pavilion, and I glance back to watch Lady Celida get into position behind the altar. When she notices me, she smiles, but I fail to smile back. No, I simply turn away and follow Archmagus Ryvil.
“You’ve been assigned an Elimination as your first mission. Considering your abilities, and your history, I assume you have no objections?”
I’m elated, but I try not to show it. If I can prove myself as a top-level Eliminator, doors will open for me. With any luck, I’ll end up doing battle with the Mirrorblights, and then, just possibly, I shall have a route to become a soldier in the war against the Luminous Host.
Archmagus Ryvil gives me a scroll. I unroll it to find the details of the mission and begin to read aloud. “Elijah Mott. Human serial killer. Sought by the Luminous Host to become Lightchained. Elijah has killed twenty-three people in the last two years. His bloodlust, grotesque methods, and lack of empathy will make him a formidable opponent if the Host gets hold of him. You must find and eliminate him before the Mirrorblights can capture him.”
The scroll re-curls in my hand, and I look at the Archmagus as he asks a solemn, “Will you accept this mission?”
Without question, without hesitation, I immediately reply, “I accept."