“You’re sure?”

Shem was rapidly pacing back and forth. They’d been transferred to a more ‘traditional’ looking prison beneath the barracks, complete with cold walls, hard stone floors and barred windows. Their wrists had been shackled in rectangular wooden stocks. They could bend their arms but not straighten them, neither could they reach round to grab their satchels. Dawit, though much better, was slumped against the wall, sat next to Kai, who was sat next to Avana.

“Saw it with my own eyes, bro,” Kai replied.

“He took down four Mynds…before the blade fragmented,” added Dawit.

“How would he even know how to do that?” asked Avana.

“Shem?” said Kai.

All eyes turned to him. He slowed to a stop. He could feel Avana’s glare before he even turned to meet it. He blew a gust of air at the ceiling, eyes closed.

“I lent him my Codex to teach him foraging. He must have copied the steps from it…”

Avana shook her head, “Idiot.”

“I didn’t know he’d do that with it! I flippin’ trusted him!”

“Which makes you an idiot!”

He pivoted and stomped toward Avana, pointing with his index finger.

“I swear, if you call me an idiot one more time…”

“What? You’ll eat dust like you did earlier!”

“Guys, guys!” coughed Dawit, “Shem, I know you’re angry…but this isn’t productive…”

“Whoa, wait, hold on!” called Kai, “What’s this about Shem eating dust?”

“I didn’t eat dust…”

“He did.”

“It was paprika—actually. And it tasted just fine.”

“Sweet, hot or smoked?” asked Dawit.

“What? I dunno! I thought you were sick, mate. Rest y’gums.”

Dawit chuckled then doubled over into a spluttering fit of coughs.

“The hell happened t’you anyway? Him, I understand,” said Shem motioning to Kai.

“Thanks, man…”

Once the coughing-fit had subsided, Dawit leant back against the cold, stone walls, wiping his running nose with the back of his wrist.

“I’m not cut out to lead…” Dawit sniffed. “I’m not like you.”

“Stop it, you’ll just make it worse,” said Avana, dabbing his forehead with her sleeve. “Wellworn wouldn’t appoint you if he didn’t think you could do it.”

“Maybe he appointed me to prove I can’t?”

“No. Things went wrong because you’re surrounded by idiots,” Avana snapped, her eyes darting from person to person like arrows. “Reckless idiots. Lazy idiots, and arrogant, witless, ignorant idiots,” she said, nodding in the direction of an absent Keon.

“Whoa, whoa, jeez!” said Kai, shielding himself with the shackles.

“Haven’t you noticed? The only ones who aren’t idiots weren’t captured.”

“Wait, what’s that say about you then?” asked Kai.

“I was with an idiot. Doesn’t count.”

Kai shook with silent laughter.

Shem stepped forward, ignoring the jab.

“So, what, you’re saying Jonas and Zahara are still out there?”

“Out there?” she scoffed, “Jonas is probably plotting our escape as we speak.”

* * *

“You really don’t have a plan?” said Zahara.

“I’m thinking,” signed Jonas.

They were crouched down in the branches of a forest overlooking the lavish palace. Even high up in the canopy of the trees, they didn’t have much of a vantage point. There was no way of knowing what they were dealing with other than that it was probably swarming with Moonlamps. Marble Mynds could be seen guarding the main gate and pacing the battlements, and from what they could ascertain, the first court only led to a subsequent one. There was no telling where their friends were being held or how many gates they would have to pass through to get to them.

“The walls aren’t heavily guarded, but they’re way too high to scale,” he signed.

Her brow furrowed.

“Why would they leave them unguarded?”

“Confidence. Who’s gonna attack them this deep in their own land? It’s more for show than anything else.”

“But you’re sure they’re here?”

“Moonlamps expel Torchbearers from their land. They don’t invite them further in,” he signed.

Zahara exhaled, shaking her head; wondering what malicious devices they had in store for her friends. For Keon.

“Can I ask you something?” she said. “Why didn’t we help them sooner?”

“Something wasn’t right,” he signed. “I needed to know what it was. There was no sense in all of us getting captured.”

She bit her bottom lip, turning again to look towards the palace.

He’d known something was up from the get-go. At the first sight of blue smoke, he’d dragged her into an alley. They’d scuppered up the side of a building onto a balcony to wait it out. Sure enough, Moonlamps began hopping, silently, from roof-to-roof moments later. They’d been made the moment they set foot in the Golden Gate.

It was those little mirrors—he’d explained—tinkling on the market stools. Someone was watching them and must have seen that Keon was different. That he hadn’t yet joined with his Mirror. Following at a distance, they eventually found their friends being escorted through the streets. Keon was fine, but Kai and Dawit didn’t look too good. They’d been stricken, which meant, sooner or later, they would have to contend with Mentals, Mynds and Moonlamps. This mission was growing more complicated by the minute.

She was jolted alert by Jonas’ tapping. He signalled towards the western side of the palace.

“Think we may have found our way in,” he signed, pointing to a river that cut through the palace grounds and out the other side.

“Yuck,” she said.

“We’ll wait until nightfall. Then we make our move.”

* * *

Aslan was touring Keon through the grounds. The whole complex was a part-palace, part-park hybrid. They would be walking beside white walls and marble pillars one minute and have huge trees and streams break through the middle of it all the next. It was like nature wanted to invade but had come to an agreement with the Moonlamps. The vegetation seemed to flow around the buildings rather than break through them. It gave the oddest sense that, even when they were indoors, they were still outside.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

In the midst of it all, Aslan was proving a problematic enigma. How could this guy be beating on his friends one minute and extending the longest arm of hospitality the next? Strolling through a colonnade of tall, grey pillars, they passed a large, open hall where young boys were being drilled by a man in long, white robes (the same thing everyone seemed to wear), holding a short, tasselled whip behind his back. The boys were sat, cross-legged, in five rows of fifteen, codices open in their laps.

At a yell from the instructor, the roar of flapping pages reverberated like waves crashing against the rocks. He would shout and they would turn, twist or flick their books open in unison. Those who were out of step were quickly met with a vicious lick from the tassels.

“We train from childhood to defend the walls and walk the path of the Five Links,” said Aslan, noting his interest. “Youth from all over Midnah-Dogu come here daily to learn.”

“What makes you think I care?”

Aslan chuckled.

“Do you always lie to yourself? You’re clearly looking for something. Why else would you be with the Torchbearers?”

His thoughts strayed towards his dad, holed up somewhere in a Stronghold. He wondered if it was anything like this place and—if so—whether he’d even want to be rescued.

“I’m looking for a way home,” he said. “I didn’t ask to be here.”

“But clearly, Almuluk has summoned you.”

“Right. Of course,” he said, rolling his eyes. “And how long have you been here?”

Aslan smiled at the ground.

“Since birth.”

Keon gaped, dumbfounded.

“I thought no one was born in Underland?”

“I wasn’t. A Masabih’s journey to Underland begins the moment he or she is called by their parents. For most of us, that’s the day we were born.”

Keon scoffed to himself.

“That’s nuts.”

“It’s why we’re strong. Unlike some, our brotherhood doesn’t end here. We live equally in both worlds.”

Keon scoffed inwardly. Like this guy was the only one who knew something about living in two worlds.

“And how do you join this ‘brotherhood’?”

Aslan stopped.

“By pledging allegiance to Almuluk.”

Keon huffed a chuckle, shaking his head.

“Why is everyone tryna get me to join their club, man?”

“‘Cause we’re at war, bro. Even if you don’t see it, this war affects everything. Everybody has to pick a side.”

“You sound just like Wellworn,” he muttered.

“Who?”

Keon faltered. He hadn’t meant to let that name slip. It wasn’t just Kai’s warning. For some reason, it felt—wrong. Like a secret he’d been entrusted with. But more so than that, whether he was captain of the King’s armies or the leader of some local militia, Aslan had no idea who Wellworn was, which was weird in and of itself. Wasn’t that, like, one of the first rules of warfare or something? To know your enemy? He resolved to choose his next few words very carefully.

“Just some guy I met when I got here,” he shrugged, continuing to walk.

“And what did he tell you?” asked Aslan through narrowed brows.

“That choices are powerful in Underland, and that people would try and make mine for me.”

“The choice is yours, bro. Nobody here will ever try and take it from you.”

Keon’s temple creased in contemplation.

“And my friends...what would happen to them?”

Aslan paused—in a way Keon didn’t like.

“We’d send them on their way.”

* * *

That was it. He had to get out of here. He just wasn’t sure how. He’d gotten a good enough look at the palace grounds to have some idea of where the barracks were located, and whilst this place seemed more like a lavish hotel than an army base, that didn’t change the fact that it was swarming with soldiers. Every inch of the grounds was covered with prying eyes, and even those who weren’t on guard duty seemed ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

He’d been shown to his own extravagant quarters, though it was locked from the outside and guarded. It was the first moment he’d had alone since being separated from the others. He needed to make the most of it.

He would wait until dark. That would at least give him some cover. They hadn’t taken his Codex. Maybe they knew he was inexperienced? He bristled with embarrassed rage at the thought. In theory, he could write something out and try forge with it. A Torchbearer was limited only by their imagination, right? Not that he was one yet. Sort of.

The beginnings of a plan were starting to hatch in his mind. Red was the universal colour for ‘danger.’ He could set off a signal to distract the guards and slip out the window. If he forged a wide enough sheet, he could probably parachute down. Then, it would just be a matter of slipping through the shadows to reach the holding cells. How would he get the doors open though? He had a theory about that actually and couldn’t wait to try it out. All of this depended, of course, on whether he could successfully Forge at all. As much as he hated to admit it, Shem was right. He still had a lot to learn.

The sound of the door unbolting put an end to his scheming. The cedar door creaked open, and he glimpsed a young maid coming in with a tray of food. Another tray of food. He’d either turned down or chucked all the rest, but these guys were persistent. And boy, was he hungry! His Codex seemed to shudder in agreement.

Back turned, he listened to the sound of the tray being set on a table by the door then waited for the scrape of the lock being bolted back.

“So, are you considering it?”

Keon whipped round, looking for the source of the voice before settling on the young maid, standing in a shadowy corner by the door. The scale of the room made her practically microscopic. No wonder he hadn’t seen her; but once he did, he couldn’t un-see her.

She wore a long, white shift with particularly long bell sleeves over loose trousers. Like the other maids, her head was hooded, but what distinguished her from the rest was the armour she wore beneath the hood, like the statues at the Gate. And her eyes. A piercing, shimmering grey framed by a forest of black lashes.

“I’m sorry?” he said.

“His ‘glorious’ offer?” she said, arms folded across her chest, swaying playfully from side to side.

He looked around again, unsure whether she was even real.

“Who are you exactly?”

“Asya,” she said, matter-of-factly.

Keon shrugged and shook his head.

“Aslan’s sister.”

Of course. The eyes.

She must have noticed him tense up because she said—

“Don’t worry, he doesn’t know I’m here.”

She walked over to the table, sat down with one leg crossed over the other and picked a sugared date off the tray. He looked around again, making doubly sure no one else was about to sneak out of the shadows.

“What do you want?”

“To see if it’s true.”

“What?”

“The Myth of the Perfect Mirror,” she said, popping the date in her mouth. “Not the half-truth Aslan told you. The one Torchbearers tell.”

Keon’s face contorted with incomprehension.

“I-I-I don’t even know it.”

She rubbed her knees as she rocked back and forth.

“Well, you’re not a Torchbearer are you? Isn’t that right?”

He looked around frantically. Clearly the walls had ears.

“What, were you eavesdropping or something? How do you know all this?”

“Underland does this weird thing with twins,” she said, rolling her eyes and twirling her fingers around her head like she was loopy. “Sometimes I catch snatches of conversation. Things Aslan says or hears. The way he feels. It all shows up in my Kodeks.” She tapped a satchel attached to her side.

Keon’s eyes narrowed.

“Doesn’t that work both ways then? Won’t he know you’re here?”

“I just told you he doesn’t. He probably would though if he wasn’t so distracted.”

She leaned forward and clapped her hands together, resting her elbows on her knees.

“I need to know if it’s true, what they say about the Perfect Mirror. Help me find out, and I’ll help you and your friends escape.”

“You what?”

“You know, get away,” she said, mimicking the flight of a plane with her hand.

“I know what ‘escape’ means! Why would you do that?”

She suddenly grew very serious, rubbing her palms together.

“My people believe they control their Mirrors. I’m beginning to think it’s the other way round,” she said, looking away and biting her lip. “I see it in my brother—when he gets angry—it’s like the line between him and his Mirror gets blurred.”

Keon thought back to the sight of Aslan’s Mirror; desperate to move but confined to one spot. He noticed Asya wringing her fingers and caught a fleeting hint of bruised wrists.

“I’ve tried to warn him. He tells me I sound like a traitor. And our dad—he would die for me, but—he has no qualms setting his Mirror loose on Aslan.”

“That…that’s horrible…”

For the first time, he was starting to feel guilty for hating his guts.

“That’s not control,” she continued, “It doesn’t make us any different from the Mirrors. And if that’s the truth of the Five Links, I don’t want any part in it.”

“Don’t you have one too though? A Mirror?”

She tugged on the collar of her armour, revealing her chain-less collarbone.

“I let mine go a long time ago.”

“You can do that?”

She sniffed a smile.

“You should’ve seen how fast it took off. There’s nothing a caged animal loves more than freedom.”

“It’ll be back though,” said Keon, pacing. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

She leaned forward, intrigued.

“Tell me more…”

He had to look around the room, away from the intensity of her stare.

“They…they say that as long as you’re free, it can’t be. So, it’ll keep coming back until you control it, or it controls you.”

“Mirror Mastery…” she whispered to herself.

“What’s that?”

She clapped her hands again, this time leaning back.

“The power of the one they call the ‘Coming King.’ No Chains. No tricks. Just perfect control of one’s Mirror. Some say he even had the power to forge without a Kodeks.”

“Is that possible?”

She shrugged a single shoulder.

“Enough people believed it to try and seize his power. Then he vanished almost two thousands years ago. Some say he was killed. Others say he roams Underland to this day, teaching those who seek him how to control their Mirrors, and that one day he’ll return and reveal himself to the world.”

Keon’s jaw dropped unconsciously. Is that why they were taking him to the Eastern Monument? To learn ‘Mirror Mastery’ from this ‘Coming King’?

“Do you think it’s true?” he said.

“I don’t know if it is, but…if it was and there was a chance it could save your family, wouldn’t you wanna know? Wouldn’t you try and find out?”

Keon held her stare this time, dead in the eyes.

“Yeah. I would.”

He extended his hand, “I’m Keon.”

She smiled and took it.

“Nice to meet you, Keon.”

Asya closed the door carefully behind her. She would come back later that night. Apparently, he had some sort of plan to distract the guards. They would rescue his friends, then she would find them safe passage through the palace grounds and out of Midnah-Dogu. Latching back the bolt, she turned—and almost collided with Aslan.