She looked different.

It was only fair. I looked different too.

Golden skin as supple as as dew and as bright as dawn. Lustrous green hair dancing like fairies in moonlight. Gentle robes clothing her like mist on the mountain. Voice like a mother welcoming me home. Eyes glittering like rubies in a hidden cave. So beautiful the divide between us ached.

No less a demon.

I squeezed shut my eyes, deactivated my ring, “Mirrors lie.”

She laughed, “So do men. I missed you Oswic.”

She missed me? She missed me? This was my chance to... to what?

“You’d think I was naked, the way you have your eyes closed.”

“Are you?”

I felt a thrill shoot through me like lightning. I’d seen enough naked women for a lifetime with my ring. This was something different. The thrill of the game.

“You won’t know unless you open them,” she teased.

“I prefer the mystery. What if I open my eyes and it’s not what I’m hoping for?”

She was silent. That was fine.

That was fine.

I still had my punchline left.

“I’d hate to think I didn’t get to see your immaculate fashion sense.”

She laughed. Relief flooded through me.

“Is that what you call it? Maybe I’ll change while you’re not looking. You better open your eyes or I’ll be less.. fashionable.”

Less fashionable? If clothes were fashion then less was—the mirror.

I thought I’d been ready for it, but it had caught me off guard yet again. That was a lesson in humility right there. I wasn’t immune to affectation. No one was. If I didn’t leave soon I’d slip back into it.

How had I escaped the first time? And what was that feeling? The tugging toward all parts of the mirror. Men had been here before me. Had been... consumed by the mirror. They’d entered to join the demon, and never returned.

I needed to say something.

I could feel the silence growing like a physical weight. If I didn’t speak soon she’d leave. But if I mentioned the other men, she’d think of them instead of me. Or she’d run once I revealed to her my knowledge of her nature.

I forced myself to calm down. I didn’t want to scare her. Carefully now.

No.

It didn’t matter either way. The goal was to get free of the mirror. I slapped my cheeks. Even my thoughts of escape had been warped-

The demon laughed, “What are you doing?”

Why was I in the mirror room? How had that not been my first thought?

I opened my eyes to get a better sense of my bearings. The only light was from the demon’s shining skin. My own light had dimmed as the night drew on. She was wearing a feminine copy of my outfit, down to the gloves tied at her belt and the half dozen weapons poking from wherever they’d fit.

The demon put her hands on her hips, “Don’t go looking for the runes. They won’t let you run away this time.”

I activated my ring. My eyes remained locked on her face while my gaze roamed about the frame of the mirror. The runes had been my key out of here last time. Why they’d been my key, I couldn’t remember. Something to do with false alchemy? It didn’t matter. They were gone. It was a minor miracle in of itself that I managed to keep the panic from my face.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” That wasn’t true, but she didn’t need to know that.

She cocked her hip, “Mhmm?”

Leave me in the desert, how was I supposed to reply to that? It barely qualified as an answer.

“I can’t, can I? You remember my past even though it is your future. You’re my reflection. I can’t run from myself.”

The demon leaned against the mirror, forehead pressed to the glass, right arm above to stabilize her.

“If I’m your reflection why can I do this? Shouldn’t you be leaning against the mirror as well?”

It was a good question. The reflection might be incomplete. Or represent not my image but my actions as imagined by the mirror. Or simply be a demon wearing a simulacrum of my face.

“My reflection would also be male, but I haven’t held that against you.”

Her lips quirked, “Should it?”

I saw the demon’s game now. She was just asking me questions to cover for her own lack of understanding.

No.

No that was too simple.

She was more than a clever automaton. There was something else there, buried deeper.

“What do you know that I don’t?”

She smiled, “Now you are asking the real questions. Few make it this far.”

The light shining from her skin dimmed. As the light faded, so did her outfit, slowly replaced with another as shadows replace light. Belt, pouches, waterskins and weapons all disappeared until she was unburdened. Gambeson and trousers became the red dress currently wrapped about my neck.

I thrill ran through me. There was something here. Something more.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Who are you?” she replied.

“Oswic of Blackbridge, Magi of the Sacred Order, Master of Twilight, Voice of the Storm.”

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

“Then so am I.”

“You aren’t though, are you?”

The demon laughed. It was not a cruel laugh, but one of genuine amusement, “I am the Speaker on the Wind, the Darkswallower of Bleakfort, Wise Woman, and Five Time Hoopstone Champion of Ravenhold.

“I am the Demon in the Mirror, and the Mirror in your Heart. I am your soul and your virtue. I am your hopes and your fears. I am your desires, your destiny, your doom; both judge and judgment itself.”

The lightning running through my veins turned to ice. None of that had been a threat nor attempt at intimidation. She’d been so matter of fact. As inevitable as nature itself.

But I’d dealt with confidence before. That was the key to it. She’d made herself my soul and my goddess, but even the gods could be wrong. Thus men were given their own spark of divinity.

“Mirrors do not show the wind. Nor do they reflect themselves. Their fire’s flame is cold, their ice is mild to the touch. Their roses’ thorns do not draw blood, their rains do not feed the land. You claim my end without holding my beginning.

“You are the bearer of light, but you yourself do not shine.”

And her skin dimmed once more. Now the mirror reflected only my own dim glow, and my own dim appearance. There was no demon in the mirror. Only me. Dirty faced, torn shirt, tired eyes. She did not lounge against mirror, nor retreat to draw me hither. She moved only as I moved and spoke only as I spoke.

She was as I.

But her words—and her sex—were her own.

“I am with you.”

That was all it took.

A wave of exhaustion poured over me as tension left me. I sank to the floor and leaned back against the well. I could push on until my journey’s end, but in my exhausted state I might never return. Better to seek my own safety and give Attart doubts, then to ease my guilt and confirm them.

Whispers rose in my head as my eyes closed and my lights dimmed. I struggled upward for a brief moment, but the mirror spoke.

“It’s okay. Let me handle them.”

So I did.

***

Time Blade

The name was evocative, I had to give it that. I’d awoken with the dark magic spell bouncing about in my brain with all the others. Though admittedly they were quieter now. The constant sussurations had been ordered and organized, like well designed seating at a feast. Only the relevant tidbits floated up to me whereas the rest was a gentle murmuring I could safely ignore.

The mirror had been busy.

I’d slept through sunrise somehow. Even more strange, I knew I had. The mirror had taken note of the event in my mind without waking me. She still hadn’t spoken since I’d woke and yet I knew it had been her.

Me.

I still wasn’t entirely who or what she was, or what to call her. What was the term?

Sċēawere?

Shower, as in, one who shows.

Watcher, fool, jester, spy.

It also meant mirror.

Fool was my favourite of the bunch, but Watcher was the most like a name.

I struggled up from the stone floor and unbent my neck from where it had used the stone well wall as a pillow. I had a need to use EliminateII and nowhere to use it and my mouth was dry with dust.

The first swig from my waterskin ended up on the floor. I just needed to rinse my mouth. The second was longer. Sweet, cool relief. That was one problem down.

Heal

That was an hour’s relief every minute. I felt better almost instantly. After the first minute I was able to move my neck around enough to stretch it out and help the healing along.

The room to the right of the door had ended in a trapped door, hadn’t it? No one was about to go in there.

I shuffled over to the door with my ring active. I didn’t even need to open the door in order to take care of business now that I could see through walls.

EliminateII

It felt strange not needed to do up my trousers afterward, but it was a relief given that I had an audience. I stepped lightly back into the mirror room. When had I ended up against the well anyway?.

“When did the sun rise?”

“Quite a while ago now. Three or six hours,” replied the mirror.

Attart would be worried. Despite my reasoning the night, or morning, before I needed to get back before she came looking for me. Hopefully the women and Eric had also had a long night’s rest.

To my advantage I was a Magus. People tended not to worry about us. If anything, they placed too much confidence in our abilities, even if they severely underestimated our limits.

Also in my favour was the fact I hadn’t said where I was going. Sensible caution would damn me, perhaps, but she would realize she couldn’t go running after me. I still had some time.

Hopefully.

Though it pained me to do so, I raised the light of my skin until I could see, and then sat with book in hand.

Lightstep Again. The spell was as fun as ever. Even sitting there, I felt like I was balanced on a cloud. My head could lean forward and my back arch without the slightest strain.

The light from my skin stretched to the horizons. The world turned inside out. My mouth filled with colours. Everything was bruised and rotten.

Lightstep II: The next person to wound the caster dies.

The spell was cursed.

The thought came to me as I heaved and caught my breath. It was the only explanation. I’d never failed to record a spell this many times before. I’d lost one. Warped one. And now I had a protection that was more a danger than a boon. What if Attart accidentally scratched me with her nails, or if Eric slapped me on the back? What qualified as a wound? The rune was both too simple and too complicated to parse.

Now would be a good time to run into the ogre, though I wasn’t sure if I could guarantee surviving a single hit from him.

The frogs might be easier, at least.

I straightened to look at myself in the mirror. She was looking pale as well.

“Be careful,” she managed through clenched teeth, “you dream of trees devouring the light.”

Strange.

I could have sworn I dreamt of albatross.

*** (CHAPTER?)

I left after that. It turned out that beyond the necessary, there wasn’t much to be said to your reflection. Even goodbyes were superfluous. It wasn’t like I wouldn’t see her again. I’d already seen the Watcher’s reflection in the pool.

At least, I meant to leave. I was distracted by the appearance of a chest of goods far to the left of the mirror.

I hadn’t seen it before for the same reason I didn’t see it now.

It was invisible.

Only my ring gave the game away. The contents weren’t invisible, and I could feel them all the same.

The chest was locked, but I was strong. I was able to tear it open with my bare hands. Inside were eight scrolls. Seven of them were labelled. Two each of “For Charming Others”, “For Material Enhancement”, and “For Commanding Flames”; and one “For Enhancing Memory.”

The last merely had instructions to place my thumb in the centre in order to activate it.

These were a magician’s scrolls. Promises taken from a demon in exchange for the magician’s soul.

I rolled the scrolls together and feed them through the top of my pouch. They were magic of the darkest sort, but I hadn’t been the one to pay the price. I didn’t want to use them, but neither would I outright destroy or abandon that which was already created.

Was that corruption seeping into my mind? Maybe. I was confused about a lot of things. Ends didn’t justify the means, but how was I supposed to judge the means while in pursuit of my ends? I was starving, trapped, and isolated. Wracked by magic and doubts—

No.

No those were excuses that sought a reason to eventually be allowed to use the scrolls. I should destroy them.

“Be easy on yourself.”

It was the Watcher who spoke. She’d been watching.

Naturally.

Easy on myself. Right. I’d hold the scrolls. Destroy them should they prove destructive, but otherwise, I’d allow my doubt to follow the kindest path. Maybe dark magic wasn’t inherently evil. Maybe it was, but the act was in creation, not use.

Should a starving man refuse the fruit of an invasive tree?

Until I had my answer I’d hold to them.