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1.4 Magic Mirror

1.4 Magic Mirror

Chapter 1: The Neal Family | 1.4 Magic Mirror

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Sad about moving into a new house and district, Iris tried to distract herself by exploring. In the newly constructed attic space, it smelled of paint, but it wasn’t too overwhelming. Walking around the irregularly shaped room, she spotted something reflective on the ground. Reaching for it, her small hands held a handheld mirror.

Looking at her reflection, it suddenly flashed brightly before dimming. After several seconds, the surface turned black. In that short moment, her entire world changed. Clutching the small mirror in her palm, Iris closed her eyes and curled into a ball overwhelmed by the deluge of information.

Her mind was in chaos; new and old memories swirled around. She was no longer a 10-year-old in mind. The mirror, a dungeon artifact. It showed her everything from the moment she was born to the second her heart stopped.

Letting it wash over her, she let go unable to grasp all the different pieces of information. After a few minutes, her body stopped trembling. Gasping for air, she took deep breaths.

Uncurling, Iris sat up and rapidly blinked her eyes, looking at the world around her with a new perspective. ‘What… just happened?’ Still trying to stabilize her breathing, she took shaky breaths while looking around confused. The room and carpet were vaguely familiar.

‘…attic. This is the attic, but it’s… empty?’ Surveying the empty room, Iris didn’t understand. ‘Why is mom and dad’s attic empty? Wasn’t it always filled with holiday boxes and old things?’ The empty and clean space left her speechless.

Then she noticed the smell. Sniffing, the fresh scent of paint tickled her nose. Looking at the cream-colored walls, she poked it with her finger. No paint came off, but it had a slight stickiness indicating that it was recently painted.

Rubbing her thumb and index finger together, Iris pondered still very confused. ‘Wasn’t I in the hospital? How did I get here?’ Only after a moment did she notice her hands. ‘They’re small!’ Examining her hands, she further realized that her body had changed. 'I'm younger!'

‘Did I go back in time? What is this?’ Touching her face, she wondered if she was really herself or someone else. There was a small handheld mirror nearby, but the surface was black.

With a thought, she summoned her status page.

* Status Page (Iris Neil, 10, F.)

* Magic Level: 1 (100 Mana | 100 / 100)

* Magic Affinity: Neutral

* Magic Trait: Book Mimic

'Oh! I am still me! But… Iris Neil. 10 years old… 10. 10! I’m 10!' Screaming in her mind, Iris’s eyes went wide in surprise as she read and reread the information, but glancing down at her hands, she quickly adjusted, accepting reality.

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Spotting the blackened mirror again, she picked it up. ‘This…’ Examining it yielded no new information, but she thought it strange. Trying to remember, Iris closed her eyes and concentrated. Her memories were jumbled between old and new, so she wasn’t sure about the mirror.

Before she could think further, a voice came from below. “Iris! Come get your boxes.” Dropping the mirror, her hands trembled. That voice, her mother’s voice. She didn’t need even a second to recognize it.

Mom! Opening her eyes wide, she jumped up and bounded towards the stairs. Skipping over too many steps, she quickly lost her footing and crashed into a person standing on the stairs.

“Woah!” Safely caught in his arms, a familiar-looking man lifted her up before gently setting her down. “Are you alright? You’re not hurt, right?” Quickly looking her over, he didn’t see any injuries. Sighing in relief, he says before leaving, “Be more careful, Iris. It’s not a race, you know.”

“Thanks, Uncle Martin” Speaking automatically, Iris stared at him in shock as she watched him leave. ‘…uncle martin.’ Tall. Brown Hair. Brown Eyes. Brown Beard. Uncle Martin was her father’s identical twin. Besides their clothes, his beard was the only difference between their appearance.

Standing on the second floor, Iris blankly stared in the direction where he left. Amongst the tangled memories in her mind, a few relevant ones came to the surface. ‘This isn’t my parent’s house yet. It’s… Uncle Martin’s house. We moved in… and after uncle died, my parents inherited the house…’

Holding her head, Iris fought against a headache and gained insight from her memories. Distracted by various thoughts, she gripped the railing and slowly descended the stairs.

“Iris.” Her mother called out to Iris, interrupting her thoughts. Perking up at the familiar voice, she turned towards her mother, Casey. Her light brown hair was tied up. Examining each marked box, she squinted her grey eyes trying to read the bad handwriting.

Shakily taking a breath, Iris pounced hugging her mother. “Woah! What’s wrong with you?” Surprised by the hug, her mother misunderstood the intention. Still smiling, her tone changed. “…are you trying to get out of taking these upstairs to your room?” Gently pushing her away, she gestured for her to work pointing towards Iris’s boxes. “Go work. Go on. They aren’t going to move themselves.”

Resisting to break the hug, Iris quickly gave up and went towards the boxes. ‘I need to do this first… Even if I told her about how long it had been since I last saw her, I don’t think she’d believe me…’

Looking between the boxes and her hands, she reminded herself that she was 10 years old again. ‘I was a lazy child… am lazy? Was? Am?’ While moving the boxes to her room, she thought about it. ‘I was a lazy child… but I’m 10 years old again. I don’t… have to repeat the past.’

Opening herself up to the possibility to change, Iris focused on the task in front of her with more energy. Walking quicker, she completed the work faster. All she wanted was to sit down, think, and remember. ‘If I’m going to change, I need to remember everything I saw in that mirror.’

After helping move boxes, Iris set up her room, the bed, bedding, a set of clothes, some office supplies, and an empty journal. With the bare minimum set up, she laid back relaxing her tired body, and took a breath releasing all the built-up tension. ‘This is nice.’