The Empty Mirror

Chapter 20: Flayed

With phalanges barely adept at holding the pulse, I used a sturdy branch to meticulously spread the embers within the bosom of the bonfire, evoking the image of an ancestral ritual. The sacred elements aligned precisely, as if invoking entities from an unknown universe, lurking in the shadows of time and space, waiting to be summoned by those daring to unravel their mysteries.

Smooth slabs, arranged with opulent symmetry, lay as ancient sentinels on the pyre, following an inherited liturgy imposed by primordial entities. Their cold and rough surfaces contrasted with the infernal heat of the fire, creating a constant tension between the earthly and the divine, trapped in an eternal oscillation between two realities.

With careful precision, I placed the fragile clay piece at the epicenter of the fiery whirlwind. Vulnerable to the surrounding elemental forces, it seemed to tremble in anticipation of its imminent fate, as if harboring a latent awareness of the trial by fire it was about to face; a metamorphosis that would reveal its true essence and hidden nature.

Throughout the process, I dedicated myself to maintaining precise control over the intensity of the flames, adjusting the distance meticulously, and preserving an optimal temperature for the firing. My purpose transcended the mundane; I longed to achieve perfection by elevating that fragile clay fragment to a sublime state of ceramic creation, forging a bridge between the ephemeral and the eternal, the tangible and the transcendental.

Time seemed to vanish into the ether as I immersed myself in the captivating choreography of the wild flames, coiling in a threatening embrace around the vulnerable clay piece. It was a dark and mysterious rite, an intimate ceremony that transcended the constraints of common discernment, a necessary mutation to infuse soul into the fragile material and sculpt a haunting beauty that would defy the boundaries of conventional perception.

Hours slipped away, perhaps three, though at that moment, I completely lost track of time, absorbed in a hypnotic trance where the present and the past intertwined into an indistinguishable amalgam. Each second expanded, becoming an eternity, as my eyes beheld the emerging results, witnesses to the birth of a new miniature cosmos, a unique universe coming to life in the piece shaped by the fire.

The fire infused the clay with its ancestral essence, molding every nook and cranny with a primordial force that transcended the limitations of the ordinary. It wasn't just an artistic creation; it was a manifestation of horror and repulsion interwoven, a twisted expression of my art, a palpable representation of the darkness and mystery stirring in the depths of my being.

To effectively cool the piece, I shifted the embers with branches, carefully distributing the smoldering remains. My trembling hand immersed itself in the water, spreading it in circles around the bonfire, meticulously extinguishing the last incandescent vestiges. Patience became my steadfast companion as I waited for the surrounding air to cool completely, each gust whispering to me the echo of a profound unease, as if nature itself held in its breath unfathomable murmurs, mysteries that only the daring mind could glimpse.

Next, with trembling fingers, I meticulously scattered the ashes, avoiding any risk of reigniting the flame that had taken hold so fervently. It was as if a veil of uncertainty enveloped the landscape, hiding ineffable secrets that could only be perceived in the darkest recesses of the imagination. The final result stood before me, a macabre and beautiful creation simultaneously, a conceited work born from the integration of fragility and darkness, evoking mixed emotions in those bold enough to contemplate it.

In that precise moment, I discerned that I had breached the confines of sanity, plunging into an unexplored realm where horror and the grotesque danced in a macabre and sublime rhythm. What was initially conceived as a simple experiment turned into a transcendental confirmation of the effectiveness of my procedure, an irrefutable proof that I had touched the deepest threads of creation, unleashing a latent force that surpassed the limits of the known; a manifestation that revealed the very essence of the inexplicable.

A sense of fulfillment and anticipation enveloped my being, kindling the embers of future intentions with the remaining clay pieces awaiting in the castle. The once-victim of its own fragility, the piece now exuded a feeling of solidity and enduring resilience, as if it had acquired the ability to boldly defy the inexorable passage of time.

Measuring 10 cm in length and 3 cm in width, its proportions took on a fascinating charm, transcending the purely physical. Renewed in my determination, I set out to make the most of the daylight hours and continue my quest for edible treasures within the mysterious embrace of nature.

As my steps ventured into that mysterious territory, my skilled hands, without hesitation, harvested some mushrooms timidly emerging near the path. Following that meticulously tested method, I selected only those worthy of nourishing my body and satisfying my vital needs.

Those mushrooms, guarded jealously, would await their turn to be transformed by the fire into a tasty amalgamation of unparalleled flavors.

However, at that precise moment, I was equipped with a more immediate provision: appetizing acorns brimming with vitality. Deciding to grant myself a brief respite, I rested my fatigued body on an imposing rock and surrendered to the delight of the earthy and intoxicating flavors emanating from these spontaneous gifts.

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It was in that comforting moment of pause when my attention was captivated by a singular stone barely visible at my feet. Moved by an inexplicable magnetic attraction, I lifted the object and let myself be enchanted by its beautiful whitish and distinctive hue. The stone seemed to whisper ancient stories on its polished and glassy surface, possessing a cold and firm touch that transcended palpable certainty.

With its flat and sharp shape, and physical resistance, I recognized it as flint, an ancestral stone used in ancient times for the manufacturing of defensive weapons. A primitive artifact... It was undeniable: I had to possess it, make it mine as an invincible ally. With foresight, I secured the gathered food in a bark wrap and ventured again towards the lake shores.

Once there, I carefully selected a stone of considerable hardness to vigorously strike the flint. Gripping the flint firmly in my right hand, I repeatedly struck it with the other rock in my left, tirelessly carving its contours until obtaining a sharp and pointed shape, as if crafting the deadliest weapon.

Next, I focused on finding a branch with ideal dimensions: around 10 centimeters long and 3 centimeters wide. It was imperative that it carried the necessary solidity to serve as a secure handle. With skill, I grasped a slightly sharp stone and, with innate mastery, made a deep notch in the chosen branch. Subsequently, I meticulously surrounded this notch with tree bark, ensuring a strong and durable bond. Thus, the handle and the tip became intertwined in an integral symbiosis, giving birth to a knife imbued with formidable power.

It was a genuine weapon in my hands, ready to fulfill its purpose in a desolate and enigmatic world. Taking the fragment of ceramic, with its rough and textured surface, I positioned the knife at a 20-degree angle. With controlled movements and precise pressure, I delicately slid its edge along the ceramic. I repeated this process, alternating the sharpening of both sides of the knife, in a ceremony that was captivating and ominous in equal parts.

Each stroke of the blade on the ceramic generated a penetrating metallic sound that hung in the air, creating a suffocating sense of unease. My hands, absorbed in this lugubrious task, worked with meticulous dedication and unwavering resolve. However, I couldn't escape a disturbing sensation taking hold of me, as if the act of sharpening the knife plunged me into an abyss of indescribable horror and mystery.

Amid dancing shadows and the echoes of ancestral whispers, my footsteps resonated on the earth like a mysterious melody. My eyes, hungry for discovery, scrutinized every corner in search of stories woven between the intertwined branches of the trees.

The wind, a silent accomplice, swayed the leaves with an unfathomable whisper, while my heart beat to the rhythm of the enigmas unfolding before me. In every corner of that ancient forest, the twilight became an ally and confidante, revealing secrets that only those with the courage to venture could glimpse.

With each step, the mystery deepened, and my soul became a tapestry of emotions woven with the invisible thread of the unknown. In that magical dusk, where shadows and light danced their eternal dance, I immersed myself in the very essence of exploration, letting myself be guided by the subtle narrative that the forest unfolded before me like an ancient scroll.

My fist closed with determined resolution around the keen edge of the freshly sharpened dagger, an enigmatic artifact that ignited an irresistible fascination within me. As I delved into my contemplations, a question, as if emerging from the depths of my being, arose: What was the true purpose veiled behind my sudden impulse?

Despite lacking certainties, something in that peculiar stone ignited an uncontrollable force within me, a mysterious attraction that urged me to follow the dictates of my intuition without resisting its call.

As the sun descended on the horizon, shadows embraced the surroundings, plunging into the depths of this enigmatic realm and intensifying the sense of unease that enveloped me.

I decided to return to the castle, a solitary refuge where I guarded the meager harvested fruits and the ceramic vessel now revered as a sacred enigma. Nevertheless, my fingers clung to the steel, as if an imperceptible force urged me to hold it in my hands, ready to face any eventuality in this unusual journey.

With utmost care, I concealed my belongings among the dry leaves and branches, avoiding any circumstance that could spawn future complications.

As I advanced with determination toward the ancient castle, my gaze wandered upon a small rabbit frolicking among the twisted trees. A shiver crawled down my spine, but a fascinating uncertainty bloomed in my mind: Would I be capable of capturing it?

Gripping the sharp edge of the knife with determination, I engaged in the hunt, an innate manifestation of survival in this inhospitable environment. However, doubt emerged like a shadowy monster, questioning my ability to take the life of an innocent rabbit. Never before had I faced such a dilemma, and I was unsure if I could carry it out; intruding into the rabbit's burrow…

At last, I reached the imposing threshold of the castle, whose magnificence evoked an intimidating feeling resonating within me. Without hesitation, I crossed the door and entered the chamber where the enigmatic man awaited, eager to unravel the mysteries of the previous night, seeking answers and guidance amid the overwhelming vortex of uncertainty.

In the chamber, lay the fellow, catatonic upon the mortuary box in an undisturbed posture, with the door slightly ajar, his gaze lost in the unfathomable abysses of emptiness, immersed in the hidden depths of his musings. With caution, I broke the prevailing silence, letting out a trembling murmur.

"G-Greetings," I uttered as I advanced cautiously towards the entrance. The man, in a cold tone, replied, "What's happening?" Gathering courage, I continued my testimony:

"I have witnessed an additional event in the forest..." - his eyes locked onto mine, urging me to proceed.

I merely detailed meticulously how I noticed time undergoing alterations. Every time I traversed one of the three crucial locations: the path, the slope, or the lake, I experienced a mysterious temporal transition, skipping an hour in the continuum. As I clarified, such a phenomenon has not recurred today. The effect disappeared completely, occurring only once on this day, and time decreased slightly without repeating in succession. I also narrated how, as the sun set, while contemplating its glow, it vanished completely from the firmament, leaving no trace of its presence. However, such a phenomenon has not recurred on this day either.

"I understand..." - murmured the man from the shadowy depths of the coffin, advancing towards me with cautious steps. His crimson eyes, radiating an unfathomable abyss, locked onto mine with an unsettling intensity, sending a chill through my intestines with icy certainty. My words faltered as I struggled to contain the nervousness seizing me. I didn't know how that entity had managed to transcend reality, nor how it had fixed its gaze upon me while lying in its deathbed; it was like looking into a mirror...

"I-I... perhaps it would be prudent for me to withdraw. I don't wish to cause any more disturbance..." - I stammered, humbly bowing my head in a gesture of submission.

His countenance turned grave, reflecting a deeper understanding. "I understand..." - he whispered, resonating in the air like the mournful echo of a grave.