I woke with the dawn.

My bladder and bowels were both making their demands heard to me and I didn’t have a Mushroom-King to magic them away this time.

I didn’t really want to squat down in front of the beetle, and I doubted the orcneas would appreciate it either, even if they hadn’t told me not to return.

The way I’d come in was still barred to me, and without light I couldn’t be sure of other exits.

The room was large. I’d have to settle for doing my business on the far side of it.

I fumbled about for the ledger of names to clean myself and then began to circle the room to the far corner to do my business. After just a few steps I had a thought and hurried back to the cask.

Giddy Flames

The jack-o’-lanterns rose around me. By their light I hastily grabbed my new spell book and then stood there, hopping about and grimacing. I needed ink. I needed ink. I was going to explod- my eyes fell on the puddle of wax where the candle had been. I quickly levered the whole thing up with my new dagger and then sent my lights flying ahead of me to the far corner of the room.

I began waddling after them, but it was rapidly becoming obvious I wouldn’t make it. I threw with wax and journal with a PushII behind them to the corner.

Safe Teleport

Free from my trousers, I caught my items as they came skidding towards me. I dispelled the PushII, squatted, and raised wax and parchment.

Eliminate: Nightsoil is teleported from inside the caster to the ground beneath them over the course of 1 minute.

It took the ledger, a sheet from my journal, the woman’s red pants, and half a waterskin to clean myself. That’s what I got for leaving it for an hour, but it was worth it.

To the non-trapped-in-a-dungeon, the spell might seem a frivolous waste (heh) of time, but down here it could save my life. Infection and disease were real threats, as was the sheer vulnerability caused by a need to squat down with trousers about my ankles.

I ran my fingers over the transparent wax which made up the spell. I couldn’t read the spell, but on the plus side I could very easily feel it. It was possible to cast spells written in ink in the dark, but it was a pain.

Breakfast was more fish in the dark. I could have perhaps added some of the onion, but I wasn’t really keen on eating it raw. It was a shame I didn’t have a fire spell, but my candle had burned itself out while I’d slept. I could have extinguished it, but then I wouldn’t have been able to light it anyway. Looking back, it would have made more sense to record the heat of the torches rather than the light, but recriminating myself was just another way of trying to avoid responsibility. What was done was done, and I’d have to live with it.

I settled in back against the wall. The dead frogs were starting to smell. I might need to get rid of them if I could. Hopefully there were no flies in the dungeon.

While food and water were easy I wanted to stay here and improve upon my spells. The spellbook would help too. It would be easy to grow bored here, but it was amazing what security after a week of deprivation did to you. The contentment would last me through. That and planning my next day’s spells. And if all else failed I could lose myself in my...

***

The sun rose.

I’d planned for the next day to go much the same, but after I cast Giddy Flame to guide me to my latrine, the rune vanished from my arm. Thankfully I had my spellbook on me as I’d been planning to upgrade Eliminate.

I cast Eliminate while sprinting over to the corner and cast Push on the spell for good measure, just in case. With my toilet underway to be taken care of (it was weird for me as well) I set about recording my jack-o’-lanterns before they disappeared.

Will-o’-Wisp: Two large glowing masses, bright as candles, slowly fade over the course of an hour. They move following the whims of their master.

I immediately cast my new spell to light my path back to my cask. Only one spell carved into my body now, and Safe Teleport barely counted. It was more of a scratch than any sort of serious injury. So far it appeared only spells written in such a way disappeared, which meant I’d want to make a copy of Safe Teleport in my spellbook as soon as possible. If any spell could disappear... I’d be here for a long time backing up spells.

I wanted to move the frogs before they became problem, especially the one pressed against my boulder. If I had time, I could even make a spell to mop up the blood, but that was seeming less and likely.

I ate breakfast and then circled round to assess the dead frog. It was huge, probably three or four hundred pounds if not more. I might be able to move it on my own given my new strength, but I wasn’t about to touch the thing. Bright green wasn’t as dangerous a colour as yellow or red, but it was unnatural enough to warrant caution.

I didn’t have much hope, but without anything else to do I cast PushII and PushIII.

The frog rolled over from the uneven force and began to slowly slide away from the boulder. It didn’t make it to the other end of the room, but by the time the spell ran out it was next to its partner. It was a start.

I decided to properly explore my room (it was mine now, not the frogs’) before my light ran out. I’d been here for two or three days now and I’d never had the chance.

The pile of glass bottles I’d seen before. They could have been very useful under the right circumstances, but with my new waterskins I didn’t have a need for them. The one I shared with the orcneas – the one they claimed was South – had writing on it. I’d not noticed it before. It was somehow both jagged and looping, and every sentence ended (or began?) with a burst of fire. I had no idea what it said, nor even a notion as to what the language was. Given the long history of Bleak Fort it could have been anything written by anyone.

More interesting to me was the room’s fourth exit. I’d already been through the other three, but I hadn’t even known this one existed.

It was actually near my latrine, only twenty feet away, but sunken in the wall as it was, and distracted as I’d been, I hadn’t noticed.

It was stuck (as expected at this point), but not so stuck that my first kick didn’t pop it open.

My will-o’-wisps flew in ahead of me to scout the room.

Blood was splattered on the walls and floor, something black still dripped from the ceiling. I looked up, not wanting to see. Sure enough, there were corpses impaled on the ceiling; I’d been here before.

I back away from the entrance and pulled the door shut behind me.

In a way, it was a relief. If all the paths from the corpse room led back towards it, it meant that the whole section of dungeon to my west was a dead end. I’d been worried I’d need to eventually explore through the spike room and beyond.

It did mean I had absolutely no idea where to go next, but there was options. The entire statue room past the beetle, for one thing. Breaking down a few of the doors which had stopped me before was another option.

For the time being I was content to sit and idly stuff fish into my mouth. I’d survived my deprivation of the past week, but that didn’t mean I’d fully recovered from it. My body was demanding rest and relaxation. As my lights went out, I acquiesced.

***

The next day was uneventful. I mostly spent it finishing what I’d started the day before. I pushed one of the frogs to the far wall with my spells and recorded a new Safe TeleportII spell in my spellbook by sprinting about the room.

It was slow going for a day’s work, but I had plenty of fish and water, I could be patient. If I waited long enough, the guards would eventually be forced to move on from the stream or die. Either would give me free access to it. I found – somewhat to my surprise – that I didn’t really care either way.

***

I’d decided I needed a second light spell. In many ways, a stronger push spell was more important, but if there was any chance I could lose spells from my spellbook I needed a backup. Force spells I could create from the ground up, light spells were far less accessible.

As the sun rose, however, my plans were interrupted. The dark whispers of dark magic were back. They bubble and roiled. Ebbed and flowed. A thousand voices murmured at once. One rose above them all, louder and louder until it became an ear-splitting screech. The screech grew in noise and intensity as the seconds passed until I forced to my hands and knees, hands covering my head. Abruptly, it ended, leaving behind only gentle sussurations.

Hindering Claw

That made even less sense than the last two. No wonder warlocks were insane. That and the screaming. I was finding it harder and harder to believe dark magic was natural. Still, I had to remember that simply because something was out of my experience didn’t mean it was outside the nature of things. Most were surprised to learn of fire bodies, pyrosomes, the giant glowing worms of the sea, and yet they were in harmony with the rest of creation. Creation whose imagination was far greater than our own.

I rocked back into a sitting position. I could still feel the other dark magic spells tickling at the back of my mind, waiting to be cast. Was this how warlocks gained their power? Storing up an endless well of magic to draw upon? It was more versatile than I expected, but also much slower. Less useful as well.

No wonder the warlock’s actions had seemed mostly random when I’d tore his throat out, he didn’t have the right spell stored up. Almost made me feel sorry for him. Almost.

I summoned my light, did my toilet, and pushed the other frog to the wall without incident. My new Will-o’-WispII spell might have been a minute or two shorter for it, but I’d still nearly doubled my options while further cleaning up my room.

I could continue exploring further, but with only a handful of spells at my disposal I didn’t think it was worth risking antagonizing the ruby beetle.

***

Dawn broke.

Under the light of Will-o’-Wisp I combined Eliminate and Push much like I had two days prior.

EliminateII: Nightsoil is teleported from inside the caster over a distance of 70ft over the course of 1 minute.

Not only did my new spell provide me a much needed backup, it also worked at range, which meant I’d have to do far less stumbling through the dark. Just because I hadn’t found any traps in my room, didn’t mean there weren’t any.

Additionally, my spellcraft left me with plenty of spells for exploring. I was starting to get restless.

My belt had come with a single pouch, which I used to store the hammer and chisel. I looped the whistle around my neck. I didn’t think I’d have much use for either, but they were easy enough to carry. The whistle might still even be magical.

North then. I entered the beetle’s room cautiously. It was gone. I sent my will-o’-wisps dancing around the room to be sure and found no sign of it.

It made sense. A creature of its size must need quite a bit of food. I was surprised whatever moss or insects or whatever it ate in this room had sustained it for so long. I wondered how it got around the dungeon. Could it open doors? The image of a giant beetle on its rear legs fiddling with the same locked and stuck doors I’d dealt with flashed through my mind. I shuddered. Hopefully it could just teleport or something.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

The statue revealed few new details under the dim light of my jack-o’-lanterns. A number of doors near the north end, a tapestry on the north-east corner of the room, and the words “Stay right” scrawled in a shaky hand on the north wall.

The statues themselves were of interest. I didn’t grasp the pattern at first, but as I moved through the room I realized they were all female, and all headless. Studying what heads remained intact on the floor, as well as the women’s clothing or (occasionally) lack thereof, I began to realize that they were all female rulers, or the wives of rulers. In fact, as I wended further north, I began recognizing multiple rulers in a row who had served directly after one another. And not always in the same kingdom.

I stopped and surveyed the room once more. If my guess was correct, this room contained a record of every single female ruler who’d ever existed, going back in chronological order for thousands of years. It was unbelievably valuable.

I noticed my hands and jaw clenching and forcibly relaxed them. The warlocks had had this enormous treasure for who knows how long, and they’d squandered it. Let it fall to ruin. Probably desecrate the statues themselves given the uniformity of the destruction. If I ever got out of here I was leading an expedition against Bleak Fort. Perhaps a horde of curious archaeologists would succeed where armies had failed. It was a nice thought, anyway.

The tapestry was dull and faded, I could just make out some sort of pastoral scene. At one point it might have pulled the room together, but now it just looked dull. It was also incredibly suspicious, especially combined with the instructions to stay right.

I pulled it from the wall, keenly aware of my hypocrisy. Sure enough, a small wooden door was set in the wall behind it, raised a few feet off the ground.

It was locked, but the wood was flimsy enough I was able to batter it down easily with my hammer. Despite the constant wailing and moan about me, I’d grown fairly blithe about making noise in the dungeon, it didn’t seem to attract any notice. Or what heard me didn’t care. Either way, I was vindicated when nothing came to eat my face after hearing all the splintering and crashing.

The door had concealed a short tunnel leading into a massive circular chamber, with a large raised pool of water in the centre. Despite the pool not containing any noticeable aeration, it was crystal clear, completely free from moss and algae. That was suspicious. Poison? Or had the warlocks found a way to enchant a reservoir? On the off-chance it was harmless it was good to have a back up in case I lost access to the stream.

My lights winked out. I’d spent more time studying the statues than I’d thought.

Will-o’-WispII

Besides the pool the room was empty. Just a rusted old axe in the corner and not much else. I looped it through my belt anyway. A sword might be more convenient in close corridors, but an axe could get me through the more stubborn doors.

Speaking of doors, the room had two of them (not including the one I’d smashed) and an empty archway to what I thought was the north. It was harder to tell in a round room if everything was arranged cardinally or not.

I stepped cautiously through the archway, sword and spells at the ready. A demon with red glowing eyes stepped out of the shadows. Its face was gaunt and its long white hair billowed about it in a mad halo.

I leapt back, sword at the ready, but the demon was content to stand there, neither retreating nor pressing the attack.

“What is the matter, Oswic? Afraid of your own shadow?”

I knew that voice. Deep and menacing. Melodious and cruel.

It was my own.

“Who are you? What are you.”

“Come closer, Oswic. All will be made clear.” The demon’s eyes flared in the dark.

Despite my better judgment my curiosity overcame me. I approached slowly, not lowering my sword. The demon had a sword also, I noticed, clutched in its clawed hands.

“Yes, that’s it. Just a little closer.”

Strangely, the words which would have sent me running if they’d come from the mouth of an eight year old girl in a field of flowers did not disturb me here. They felt natural coming from a demon.

I stopped just a few feet away from the demon and studied it. In turn, the demon bared its teeth at me with a grin. In spite of the rest of its appearance they were completely normal.

“Like what you see?”

“No.” I answered truthfully.

“That’s a shame,” it stretched out a hand towards me, stopping midway and pressing flat against the air, “What would your mother think?”

My mother? What did she have to do with anything?

Lights appeared beside the demon. Two of them. They were identical to my own will-o’-wisps, but I couldn’t control them, and the light they cast was strange. Muted.

They flew away from it at a diagonal to one another and illuminated an intricate scrollwork metal frame which lay between myself and the demon.

As the jack-o’-lanterns touched the corners their light refracted, multiplied and bent, as if...

My mother. It all made sense now. Perhaps I’d been a little slow on the uptake.

The demon laughed, “Have you figured it out yet, Oswic?”

It shifted, matching my stance, moving with my moves. I walked over to it and pressed my hand against its own. The silver was covered in smooth glass, but glass of such quality I couldn’t see the faintest warp or distortion. I couldn’t even tell where it ended and the silver began.

I was looking at a monster. I was looking at myself.

My face – the one in the mirror, not my own – turned into a frown. Pitying. “How can you love one who doesn’t love themselves? What other option do you have? To live among the monsters?”

Its appearance changed. Its waist shrunk, it hips and chest expanded. Its face shrunk. It even somehow lost a few inches in height while still managing to mirror me.

“Love yourself, as all men should, or there will be no escape in freedom. Love me, Oswic. It’s not so bad. Love me and love yourself.”

I leapt back from the mirror. She did so as well, copying my actions with a slight mocking bounce.

I drew my lights back to examine myself, but I was unchanged. She copied me, running her hands slowly over her body with a gentle smile.

Emotion roared through me suddenly. Unprecedented. Unexpected. Anger, fear, disgust, longing, desperation... envy? Despite her shared deformity; her molten eyes, her white and wild hair, her long claws; there was something about her. Men would still desire her, still worship her. She would not feel the hollow bite of loneliness. Even in her imperfection, she was perfect.

I lurched forward. I wanted that power for myself. I needed it. To be alone, but not just alone; to be feared if I ever left this place. Better to die forgotten in these dungeons. I pressed my hand against the glass, filled with a profound emptiness. There she was, just out of reach. She no longer seemed to notice me, growing more distant the harder I stared at her, growing more indistinct the more I focused. I was losing her. Only her beauty remained. I needed her. Needed her to be whole.

I fell to my knees, painfully aware of how pathetic I looked. Perhaps... perhaps pathetic would be enough. Perhaps it would be what it took. Better to be pitied than ignored. Right? Whatever it took.

“Please,” I begged, “Please.”

I didn’t know what I wanted. Didn’t dare ask myself. Didn’t dare know.

She titled her head.

“Please what?” she laughed.

“I... just-don’t go. I need-,” No. Too desperate. Nothing drove people away more than being needy. I’d have to choose my word carefully, “You’re so beautiful.”

She beamed, “Thank you, that’s very kind.”

Light filled me, buoyed my soul... left me empty. That wasn’t what I’d meant. I’d meant... why didn’t she understand? I’d have to be more direct. Courage, Oswic.

“I want... I want to,” to love you? To love myself? She’d said it first, but it seemed so stupid coming from my mouth, “What I meant was, please, let’s sit by one another. For a little while.”

She walked over and sat – cross legged – on the stone floor next to me. “I’d love to. It gets boring down here.”

Boring. Not lonely. I doubt she was ever truly alone. How could you be when you were loved? I caught myself smiling stupidly at her and quickly stopped. I looked like a fool. She didn’t seem to mind though, and returned my smile easily. She did everything easily, I noticed. Even the way she sat was relaxed; confident and sure. I felt stiff and awkward next to her.

She continued to stare at me expectantly. Stars and shattered stone. My mind was blank. Except for the rune- not now! I wrenched my thoughts away. I needed to say something, anything.

“Your hair is nice.”

She titled her head at me, bemused.

Had I said too much? Too little?

“I mean, in comparison to my own, you know? The acid scorched mine, but... I’ll need to shave it off. Need to shave my hair off, not yours.”

“Thanks? I think?” she laughed, “I’m sure yours will grow back fine.”

I mentally shook myself. She was a reflection in a mirror. I was her, she was me. I couldn’t mess this up. Literally, I couldn’t. As long as I sat here, she would remain. Although... hadn’t she moved away before? If she was a reflection she was a strange one. She was female, for one. Somehow I found that harder to accept than the whole moving slightly out sync thing.

“Why do you look like me?” I allowed myself a grin, “only less ugly?”

“It’s the silver. Silver is the metal of-”

“The metal of truth,” I interrupted. I’d heard that before, “I’ve heard of the association. But it still doesn’t explain,” I gestured vaguely at her, “All this.”

Did she look annoyed by my interruption? Perhaps I’d been to hasty to show off my knowledge, but no, the smile was back on her face.

“A normal mirror shows your image. This mirror shows you as you are.”

I frowned and looked down again at my body. I poked and prodded, but as far as I could tell, I’d remained unchanged, “Are you sure about that? I don’t think I’d pull off a dress half as well as you. I’ve been dieting for days, but I just don’t have your figure.”

She laughed, “Oh I don’t know. I bet you’d look cute in a dress. You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

My grin returned, “We should have a contest. See who does it best.”

“Now that would be a sight to see,” she tittered, “But yes, the mirror shows you your potential. What you could be. What you should be. Alchemists created it to show the inner divine within us all.”

“If I changed clothes would you?” I ask curiously. “I could try to find a dress for our contest. There appears to be noble lady down here. I already found a tuttenseck and some pants.”

She raised an eyebrow, “You really want to do this contest, huh?”

My heart leapt into my mouth. Had I..? No... I’d just been trying to keep us on track. It was hard to follow the conversation with her constantly changing topic.

“Well... I guess I could think about it. Don’t know if I could stack up against the competition.”

She winked at me and I laughed, half in amusement, half in relief.

“Just you wait,” I flexed my arms and lowered my voice, “I can be very feminine.”

She smiled, “The alchemists would be delighted, that was one of the highest callings of their art after all.”

I glanced about. She sure was going on about the alchemists. Perhaps... The scroll work about the mirror was beautiful. Whorled, mysterious, etched in arcane runes. It appeared very alchemist. But that was just it: appeared.

No alchemists had made this mirror.

Even as I realized this the frame darkened. I called my will-o’-wisps to me, but I still couldn’t make out the symbols, their light was dimming fast. Too fast.

They died.

An hour had passed in what felt like minutes.

I looked back towards where I’d last seen the demon in the mirror.

“Hello? You still there?”

Nothing, not even the glow of her eyes.

She was gone. Just a reflection after all.

A feeling of embarrassment grew in me. What had I been doing? I’d been acting like a teenager. Worse than one, really.

As my mind cleared I realized she had lied. The demon had lied. I had lied. Mirrors didn’t reflect you as you were. They reflected a distortion. Even the most perfect mirror was only an image, an object. No number of objects could represent a person’s true self.

I pulled my thoughts into the present. My lights had gone out. This was not a trivial problem. First, it meant time had moved faster while talking to her. Second, I was stranded away from my food and water. I could continue to explore without the light, but that greatly increased my odds of losing my way.

I retreated, returning back to the room with the pool. I couldn’t stay in the mirror room. A very real fear compelled me, but in the end it was because I couldn’t stand the shame.

I crawled until I hit the retaining wall of the pool and put my back to it. I groaned and put my head in my hands. Regret, shame and self-admonishment bubbled up inside of me. My stomach twisted as my mind mocked itself. Louder and louder, moving towards a crescendo.

Fool.

Freak.

You debased not only yourself but all of woman kind.

Dresses? Why did you go on about dresses? Did you think you were tricking her?

Coward. Better to ask her to strip naked in front of you than deny your own desires.

Serpent Moment

I stopped. Had that been the dark magic, or me? I thought I’d learned years ago that self-recrimination was just another method of avoid pain. Yet here I was.

Following that path of reasoning, I couldn’t blame my thoughts on the dark magic either. Even if it was its fault I couldn’t regain control unless I took responsibility for them. I’d been caught off guard by the mirror, and I’d made a fool of myself. I’d have to live with it. And my mistakes.

I still had most my spells, just no light. If my guess about the mirror distorting my perception of time was right, it was still early in the morning. Perhaps I could pass the time by trying to destroy the mirror? If I wanted to go through that room again I didn’t trust myself to do so with it active.

I didn’t think I could risk it. To make such a mirror the warlocks may have indeed bound a demon inside of it. Destroying the mirror might free it, and I was in no condition to be fighting a demon. Even the greatest of mages did not engage them lightly.

I’d have to just sit here and wait. I didn’t even want to circle about the pool for fear of traps.

After many boring hours, sleep came.