Here’s your unique version of the What Does It Matter story. Presea’s braved this adventure alongside Arin, and created it with the choices they made. The end is nigh – Jan. 22nd, 2025 which is just one of 11 possible endings.
This story was created with the Wondrous Tales 3 year anniversary interactive special .
If you wish to partake in an interactive adventure What Does It Matter, you can join our Discord and #start right away.
Heirlooms
It was a morning like every other. The singing of birds awoke her from her slumber. Her glance wandered along the ceiling, illuminated by the light that the curtains failed to block out. A black spider, the size of her fist, sat in the corner of her room. It noticed her waking up and seemingly bowed to her as if a servant greeting their master. She took a deep breath and yawned wide, while stretching in her bed.
“Good morning to you too, Serela.”
The spider wiggled slightly and a phrase appeared on its web, “Good morning, master.”
As soon as her feet touched the floor, she heard a voice call out to her, “Wash up and get down, breakfast is ready.”
“Yes mom,” she mumbled sleepily, knowing her mother had heard her.
Cold water splashed on her face. She brushed the back of her hand against the mirror, as if brushing a lover’s cheek. The mirror instantly defogged, revealing her still sleepy, but freshened up face.
“What do I want to be today…” she mumbled, parting her lips and speaking out a chant. Without making a sound, her face morphed. She was now a he, a handsome lad who grinned ever playfully into the mirror.
“Or maybe…” she murmured, continuing to morph her appearance into a beautiful person whose gender was neutral. Then she was an old hag who grinned evilly into the mirror, next a gorgeous redhead who smiled innocently. She felt quite…, Feminine today.
Arin headed downstairs where her mother was already serving breakfast.
“Morning – Mom, Dad,” she spoke cheerfully, sitting down at the dining table. Her father peeked from behind the newspapers, scanning her up and down.
“Morning darling, you look as gorgeous as ever,” he replied.
“Thanks Dad!”
As her mother served them breakfast, her eyes darted momentarily to the empty fourth chair at the table, and then the four wooden mugs that lined the windowsill; she pondered yet again about these.
“Mom?” she called out softly.
“Yes?”
“Do you ever feel like something is off? As if something crucial was missing, not lining up?”
Her mother tilted her head to the side with a finger at her lips, pondering.
“Hmmm, occasionally,” she got up from the chair and walked back to the kitchen to turn the stove off, “but isn’t that just life? Always a little imperfect? Or… are you perhaps in love and missing somebody’s company?”
“Yes, that!”
Arin jumped up from her chair and then paused, “No, wait…”
Arin rolled her eyes dramatically and placed a hand over her chest, speaking softly like a love-struck poet, “Oh, yes, Mother, you’ve caught me. I’m utterly, devastatingly in love. Every moment without them is agony! Their absence is like a storm cloud over my soul, and…”
Her father lowered his newspaper just enough to give Arin a serious look, “What’s their name?” he asked.
“Uh…” she froze, digging through her mind for a name.
“Steve?”
Her mother squinted.
“Steve who?”
Arin waved her hand nonchalantly, “Steve… uh… Nobs! The son of the peaches orchard owner! He’s, uhh, responsible for my peaches addiction, peaches, not apples, very important. It’s tragic, truly. I dream of him every time I bite a fresh peach!”
Her father sighed and raised the newspaper again, “The only thing tragic here is your sense of humor.”
Her mother chuckled, shaking her head.
“You’ve got jokes for days, but I’m still not buying it.”
Arin leaned back in her chair, grinning.
“Well, you started it. Don’t ask questions you know the answer to already.”
The moment of humor faded slightly as she glanced again at the empty chair and the mugs, her grin faltering.
“But seriously… it’s not about love, okay? It’s… something else.”
“Hun, any words of wisdom?” her mother probed her husband whose attention was glued to a newspaper.
He lowered the newspaper and glanced at his wife, then at his daughter.
“When something feels off or out of place, that usually comes from stress and anxiety,” he pondered for a moment.
“The mugs, nonsense. It is as your mother said, one is your grandmother’s, others are for us. The chair – a simple custom. No need to overthink something simple. Though,” he proceeded to fold the newspaper and put it on the table, reaching for his daughter’s hand and taking it into his. As he caressed her hand he smiled.
“The graduation exams are no joke, and so your concerns are valid, don’t let my words sway you or make you feel that your concerns aren’t valid. The sense of something missing is your confidence, you’re missing your confidence.”
He grinned and nodded at her, “Chin up, tiger! You’re the best and that exam is nothing but a small pebble in your path.”
She took a moment to take his words in, then grabbed the cup of water and chugged it, nodding confidently, “I think you’re right! And yes, I got this!”
Arin felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, squeezing ever so gently.
“Now then, about the exam. The basics are all you need to achieve greatness and become a powerful witch. Remember them well.”
“Harmony, brewery, and arcana,” she replied smugly.
“You’re as ready as you will ever be my dear. Now… as per tradition in our family,” her mother spoke softly and gestured with her hands.
On the table appeared a very plain, and crudely carved wooden box. It had a handful of runes burned into it, Arin recognized them to be protective runes. Her mother opened it and turned it toward Arin. It held various items within it, but the few that caught her eyes were; the earrings with beautiful amethysts, a silver bracelet with a large emerald as the centerpiece, and a ring with a small but pristine and perfect ruby embedded into it.
“Our family’s heirlooms, each witch in our family takes one to the exam with them, for, let’s call it – good luck,” her mother winked, glancing over at them.
“Is… this allowed?”
“Sure is, well, still best not to speak of it, but they won’t care about an extra trinket, I assure you.”
“Okay…” she hesitated, glancing over the items again.
“What’s this ring?”
“A beautiful ring, isn’t it?” her mother grinned.
“I made this ring myself, back in the days when I was a scholar; pursuing the secrets of the ancient magical traps inside dungeons and tombs. At its core is a ruby I discovered in a dungeon. The ring helps the wearer discover that – which is hidden.”
“Sounds handy.”
“It saved my life many times.”
“I’ve made my choice!”
“Excellent. Well then, which shall it be?” her mother queried.
“I’ll go with…”
“The Ring of Discovery!”
The door shut quietly behind her. As she peered over her shoulder, the face made of bark peered back at her and then its lips curled up into a gentle smile.
“Good day to you, and remember – be careful,” it groaned.
“You as well,” Arin chuckled and headed down the street. Her mind raced between possibilities as to where to visit prior to the academy.
The bell above the magic shop’s door jingled softly as Arin stepped inside. The familiar scent of herbs mingled with the faint aftertaste of magical residue. The shop’s shelves overflowed with oddities: glowing vials, enchanted trinkets, remnants of various creatures, and ancient tomes.
Behind the counter was a hunched-over old man, master Theox. He squinted at her, his beady eyes gleaming beneath his bushy white brows. He was only half Arin’s height, especially when hunched over, a self-proclaimed ‘not a dwarf’, but nobody buys that.
“Ah, Arin! Come to browse or buy?” he groaned, his voice dry and sharp, like creaking wood.
“Just browsing,” she replied, “got time to kill before the academy,” her gaze wandering over the cluttered shelves.
As she walked through the shop, a faint hum drew her attention to a small orb resting on a pedestal. The orb pulsed faintly, its light shifting like a heartbeat.
“That’s a Spellcatcher,” the old man explained, appearing suddenly at her side.
“It absorbs stray mana from the air. Handy if you’re low on reserves, but it’s not cheap.”
“Figures,” Arin muttered, struggling to tear her gaze away.
She eventually settled on a few small charms – nothing extravagant, but useful enough.
As she handed over her payment, Theox smiled slyly, “Good luck at the academy today,” he said, his tone oddly knowing.
“Thanks,” Arin replied, the back of her neck prickling as she left the shop.
Expected And Unexpected
There were many blissful moments in life. Among them was the morning stroll to the academy. The crisp morning air was refreshing and energizing, overflowing with nature’s energy after a night’s rest. Arin could feel the charged air brush against her skin.
She waved her hand in front of herself, forming a few droplets of dew in the air.
They were no ordinary droplets however, they sparkled ever so slightly, filled to the brim with fresh energy. Contrary to many people’s beliefs, the mornings are energizing, literally at that. As more living creatures awake and go about their day, they consume that energy. By dusk the witches struggle to gather any energy from the air around them and rely solely on their own energy reserves, that is what many call the mana pool.
Arin beckoned the drops closer with a wave of her finger and opened her mouth. The cool drops burst into a refreshing mist in her mouth as soon as they touched her tongue. A shudder coursed through her body as the energy spread through it. This was, in essence, a mana potion, the core ingredient of it anyhow.
The academy was much the same, except it wasn’t. As one might suspect, a magical academy for aspiring witches, alchemists, mages, and wizards wouldn’t be boring. Every day was something new, very new in fact. Today the entrance was a solid wall.
Arin poked at the wall, it was indeed a solid wall. To her surprise, there were no other students in sight to see how they got through this obstacle.
‘Must be another pop quiz,’ she thought to herself. Tracing the edge of one of the stones that made the wall, she felt upset over the fact that she slept through the lecture when they learned the ‘pass-through’ spell.
A deep breath in, hold it, and then slowly exhale. As if following actions guided by an unheard voice, she did just that. Her fingers traced the coarse rocks, examining the wall structure.
After a closer examination, it was obvious to her that the wall was not an illusion, but real. However, it was also pretty obvious that it was constructed by magic. It was known that magically constructed items were more resilient to physical damage due to the mana used to hold the object together or to animate it in some cases. She placed her hand on what vaguely resembled a crack, a fault line in the rocks, where gaps between them were larger than all others. Closing her eyes and feeling the palm of her hand warming up slightly as mana flowed through it and into the rocky wall.
The wall shuddered momentarily as the magic holding it together flickered and unraveled. The stones tumbled free, crumbling into an avalanche of gravel that clattered to the ground. This revealed the entrance to the foyer that was oddly empty, but that was hardly a reason not to rush to the lecture.
As she stepped over the pile of rubble onto the academy’s tile floor, the academy came to life. As if a veil was lifted, summoning her from a dream to reality, or rather from a sub-space to the real world. She glanced over her shoulder at the entrance that was as ordinary as ever, just a few steps behind her another student stumbled through something and glanced around confused.
‘So it was a random pop quiz,’ she concluded at last. Spinning on her heel she heard a familiar voice.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Arin. How delightful that you got through the pop quiz with such ease.”
Arin didn’t bother turning around. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, just enough to let the voice know they had her attention.
“If you’re looking for an autograph, I’m afraid my quill is out of ink,” she grunted cheekily.
“Oh, no flattery, just curiosity,” came the smooth response.
“How’d you ace the pop quiz? Not everyone made it through, you know.”
“Maybe they should try harder,” she replied, still facing forward.
“And here I thought you’d at least turn around to gloat,” the voice teased, clearly amused.
“Why waste the effort?” she shot back with a smirk, “Morning, Kira.”
“Fair,” Kira replied with mock defeat, though her tone carried a cheeky and sly edge.
“Good morning Arin.”
A Student’s Duty
Upon entering the classroom, Arin threw a glance around, to her surprise there were only about a third of the students present. Their professor was already at his desk, reading a book. They assumed their seats, waiting for the lecture to start.
“Did others really fail that task?”
Kira glanced over and shrugged, “That or they used it as an excuse to skip. I’d wager on the latter.”
After a hearty chuckle, they in silence unpacked their supplies in preparation for the lecture. A book in Kira’s bag caught Arin’s attention.
“Oh? What’s that?”
Arin queried curiously.
“Mmh?”
Kira glanced at Arin and followed her gaze to the book, “Ah, this?” she pulled a curiously titled book out ‘A Disaster In The Waiting.’.
“Interesting title. Is it fiction or non-fiction?”
Kira pondered, “Historical fiction I’d say. Mostly made-up stories from tell-tales of the golden times. Whatever was passed around by word of mouth, loosely based on the historical records that survived.”
“How amusing,” Arin replied, curious to learn more and to read the book. The divine decree of witches only being allowed a single child never seemed fair. Having studied history at the academy she knew of the Golden Magical Era – a time in history when magical power was abundant.
“Mind if I borrow it? Seems – intriguing,” Arin asked, her voice carrying a note of curiosity that she couldn’t mask.
Kira tilted her head, a smirk creeping onto her face.
“You? Into fiction? Now that’s a twist I didn’t see coming.”
“Well, you did make it sound intriguing,” she countered, fingers already inching toward the book.
“And I do enjoy learning about the Golden Magical Era.”
“Fair enough.”
Kira chuckled, sliding the book across the table with a lazy flick of the hand.
“Take your time. Just don’t ruin the ending for me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied with a sly grin, eager to flip it open.
“Ahem… Witch Arin?” she heard a voice calling out to her. Snapping back to reality, she glanced around for the source of the voice, and then realized that all eyes were on her. A soft gasp escaped her lips, she bowed her head understandingly.
“It would seem to me that you wish to volunteer for the upcoming exercise?”
“Yes, Professor Romal,” she replied quietly.
“Very good,” the professor commended. He made his way down the stairs and back to the board, then pointed at the lecture board with his cane, “The graduation exams are coming up, and it is our duty, as the faculty, to prepare you all. As such, the following lectures in all of your classes will focus on your final preparations and training exercises prior to the exam.”
She glanced at the board, noting the basic highlights of the three core principles of witchcraft: ‘harmony, brewery, and arcana’. Each heading marked the start of a distinct column, their spaces yet to be filled. She sighed, stashing the book away in the bag.
As she returned her attention to the board after stashing the book away, she realized that the columns had already been filled out with various words. Each describing the core principles of witchcraft.
“And now, Witch Arin, are you ready to begin?”
“Already? Uhm, yes, professor.”
The professor smiled, and gestured to his chair, “Then please, take a seat.”
She walked down the stairs with the grace of a newborn giraffe, trying desperately not to stumble or fall over so as not to attract any more attention to herself. She slid behind the professor’s desk and sat down in his chair.
It creaked in protest, but there was little it could do to resist. As she sank into the cushion of the chair she felt unease wash over her. It was as if the chair was going to swallow her whole, like a vicious mimic.
“What shall I do?”
“Only relax,” he whispered slyly, “Now then, class. I will put Witch Arin to slumber, a basic spell many of you are already familiar with, however, there’s a catch to it. I will use a more advanced version of it, that allows me to send her, and the rest of you shortly, to a specific dream world that the faculty crafted in preparation for the exam. Rest assured, death in the dream does not imply death in reality, you’ll simply awaken should anything go wrong.”
There was a slight commotion after his words, followed by murmurs as students began to whisper to one another.
“Excuse me, professor, did you say – death?” she queried him anxiously.
“That’s right my dear. The graduation exam is a hands-on exercise, it is quite dangerous, so to prepare you all, the faculty has developed a safe means of hands-on training, lucid dreaming,” he replied smugly.
“Not to brag but it was, in fact, my idea.”
The class reluctantly applauded. The professor tossed his cane up, and it froze mid-air, as he bowed like a showman at a circus, “Thank you, thank you! Now, Witch Arin will be the first one to experience it. Oh, but not to worry young miss, the dream world is rather safe, at least in the initial zone. Faculty had tested it all thoroughly. Important to note though – the time ratio between reality and dream is roughly one hundred to one. So for every one hundred minutes there, merely a minute passes here. This means that you’ll spend well over five hours in there before you awaken back here in this chair, in absolute safety. Are you ready?”
She pulled a small vial from the inner pocket of her robe, popped it open, and poured the contents into her mouth before setting it cautiously on the table and nodding, “I am ready.”
“How wise. I applaud you,” the professor replied.
Dreams Beyond
The professor took a few limping steps toward her, for a moment Arin thought he resembled a waddling penguin and had to resist a laugh. He was leaning heavily on his cane with every step.
As he got close, he placed his hand on Arin’s head and murmured a cantation of swords, which Arin hadn’t ever heard before. Just as he finished, she felt a surge of his magic, like a tsunami, wash through her body, and with it, her consciousness faded.
She was not sure what to expect of the dream world, but one thing she was certain of – it was darker than she had anticipated. The stale dusty air made her uncertain if she ended up in a dungeon or a cave.
Light magic may have been unheard of in the past. These days, though, basic light spells are accessible to just about every wizard, mage, and witch unless they’re absolutely not compatible with the light element.
“Luminos,” she whispered. Her robes began to glow, faintly at first, slowly becoming more intense, until eventually, it shone like a lantern, in all directions, illuminating the hallway inside which she found herself.
The hallway was rather unremarkable. There were exactly two doors, one at each end. The door to her right seemed fancier. It had ornaments upon it that seemed rather old school. Now that she had a closer look, the entire hallway had an antiqued look to it, it seemed rather ancient if anything.
Old rugs – once fashionable, perhaps 200 to 300 years ago, lined the floors. Upon the walls with peeling wallpaper, in silence hung paintings, covered in a thick crust of dust, like ancient armor guarding them.
The door to the left seemed rather bland. It was a very basic wooden door with nothing of interest to it.
It seemed odd that there would be just two doors in a place like this.
She glanced at a bare wall that looked suspicious. In fact, it was acting so suspicious that she practically felt it averting its gaze so as not to appear suspicious. Everybody who knows even a little about walls should know that the moment a wall averts its gaze, is when you can assume the wall is suspicious.
She approached it with the same seriousness of a certain renowned pink-haired detective who was closing in on a breakthrough in his conquest of the Gale’s Ale, an anecdote she had once heard.
It is a known fact that walls are sneaky, and this one tried extra hard to be even sneakier, standing very still.
With a sly grin, she knocked on the wall three times, at first there was nothing, but a delayed response soon followed, “Fine you caught me, but don’t they teach witches any manners these days? Knocking on other beings for no reason is R-U-D-E!”
“Is it? Doors are made to be knocked on, no?”
The wall seemingly pondered over her question, “Fair point… Ahem, password?”
“Password…?”
“How about ‘Open, please?’.”
“Open, please?” she hesitated.
“Try again… Maybe go look for the password?”
“Is it here? Where?” she queried, but the wall remained silent.
Arin squinted at the nearest painting, leaning closer to it. As she brushed it with her sleeve, a plume of dust erupted off it, as if offended by her presence. It enveloped her like an angry air elemental that had decided to act like a desert storm.
When the storm settled at last, she frowned. The painting before her was of a very plain, non-interesting frog that sat upon the edge of a leaf – as if contemplating taking a leap of faith to its likely demise.
She pondered for a moment, wondering what kinds of hardships might push a frog to the edge like that. Then decided there wasn’t much else to see in the painting, and glanced down at the placard below it.
Words etched into copper read ‘dreams of beyond.’ She chucked, “Dreams of what? The end?”
Her gaze traveled onwards, like that of a traveler on the top of a mountain, gazing at a horizon, though her horizon was much closer – it was the next painting over.
This one was a little less dusty, and she dared not anger the dust spirits again, so she tried to perceive it through the blanket of dust that decorated it like snow.
It was a painting of a man whose mustache seemed more alive than he did. In fact, the mustache appeared so alive that it twisted and straightened itself out, like a sleepy sloth stretching itself out to the frame. After a moment, like an over-stretched spring, it recoiled back into its previous curled-up shape.
She glanced at a bare wall that looked suspicious. In fact, it was acting so suspicious that she practically felt it averting its gaze so as not to appear suspicious. Everybody who knows even a little about walls should know that the moment a wall averts its gaze, is when you can assume the wall is suspicious.
She approached it with the same seriousness of a certain renowned pink-haired detective who was closing in on a breakthrough in his conquest of the Gale’s Ale, an anecdote she had once heard.
It is a known fact that walls are sneaky, and this one tried extra hard to be even sneakier, standing very still.
With a sly grin, she knocked on the wall three times, at first there was nothing, but a delayed response soon followed, “Fine you caught me, but don’t they teach witches any manners these days? Knocking on other beings for no reason is R-U-D-E!”
“Is it? Doors are made to be knocked on, no?”
The wall seemingly pondered over her question, “Fair point… Ahem, password?”
“Password…?”
“Ah! I remember now; it is – ‘Dreams of beyond’ isn’t it?”
“Great!” the door replied with sarcastic excitement.
“Really? That easy?”
Arin rejoiced.
“No!” the door responded firmly and remained shut.
“Dawhh. Do I get another try!?”
“No!” the door mocked her, “That’s three strikes, you’re out.”
She sighed, glaring furiously at the wall, “I’ll burn you…”
“I am made of brick, you can’t burn me,” the wall continued to mock.
She leaned into the wall, her fingers gliding over the peeling, old, wallpaper, thinking what else to do.
The wall shuddered as if resisting a cackle.
“Hmm?” she pondered, but the wall remained silent, wiggling her fingers against the peeling wallpaper again, the wall shuddered once more, and then let out a muffled snort.
“Oh?” she smirked cheerfully.
“Sh…Shut up! Cease this tomfoolery immediately,” the wall demanded.
“And what if I don’t?” she mocked it back, continuing to wiggle her fingers.
The wall burst into a stone-cold chuckle, shuddering and groaning amidst its laughter.
“Fine hahaha, fine! Stop… hah! I beg of you, this is simply unfair!”
With the sound of grinding stone a hidden seam appeared.
She smirked, pressing the palm of her hand against the wall and pushing it open, “See? That wasn’t that hard.”
The wall huffed, catching its breath, “Hah… next time just bring the password, no need to get touchy…”
She stepped through, hearing the thud as the door closed behind her, murmuring something about ‘ticklish intruders.’.
The room beyond the door was dark, the only source of light being the soft and gentle light emitted by the robes. It was a vast room, a bedroom, and a laboratory by the looks of it. Arin peeked into the room before stepping over the threshold. The room was quiet, nothing and no one seemed to be within it.
She exhaled a sigh of relief and As soon as she did, she heard a voice, like a distant echo in her mind, a forgotten memory perhaps. The voice seemed to be reading a story – barely audible, muffled by long distance and seemingly time, it was hard to tell if this was an illusion, a memory, or perhaps a telepathic communication.
Arin closed her eyes after taking a few steps into the room. Her mind chased after the voice like a fox chasing a rabbit. It was elusive, every time she thought she focused on it, the voice slipped away. Managing to catch only fragmented parts of what it was saying each time.
‘Long ago, a brave rabbit by the name of Oliver…’
She chased the voice again, a distant source, an unseen echo in the deepest corners of her mind. It would wait just long enough to be caught and focused upon before dissipating once more into an incomprehensible jumbled noise.
‘…kicked him in the face with enough force to…’
Arin’s memory stirred. She recognized these story fragments, they were from a storybook of Wondrous Tales that she enjoyed so much as a kid.
The voice was gone now, as if never there. She reopened her eyes, carefully looking around. There was no one.
As she walked into the room, more oddities came to light. Not far from the door, at the apparent center of the room was a magical circle carved out on the wooden floor. Its edge was lined in runes that Arin couldn’t quite figure out. She thought she had seen similar runes in the past, perhaps in the history books during lectures. They were runes from old magic, the magic from the times of god-like sorcerers and the abundance of magic in the world.
She trod carefully around it so as not to step into the circle by accident. Magical circles can have the most unexpected activation requirements. It would be foolish to probe it by stepping into it, especially when one can not decipher the runic spell that is placed upon the circle.
There was an abundance of curious items in the room that were worth examining.
The desk stood in the corner, near the ingredients shelf. As she approached it, she once more noted that the old floorboards hardly made a sound. Throwing a quick glance around the desk, she noticed a few things of interest.
Among the expected clutter on a work desk – lay a diary. Perhaps it was written in just recently, as it had no dust upon its aged and cracked cover, its corners old and frayed. The clasp on the diary was undone, as if beckoning Arin to peek inside.
A quill was resting beside the diary, on its stand; waiting to be picked up and wielded like the weapon it was meant to be – a pen is stronger than the sword, they say.
She paused for a moment, her fingers lingering on the edge of the dusty desk. A faint murmur tickled her mind once more. The same soft and familiar voice she had heard before, as if carried by distant ripples over immeasurable distance, balancing on the edge between the heard and unheard.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she pursued the voice, focusing on it.
‘… You’re mister Dark-feather? A pigeon… – is that correct?..’
The words blurred as her focus wavered while she tried to remember what tale this was a part of while the voice was slipping away.
Arin clenched her fists and took a deep breath. Her body relaxed and the tension left her. This sets her mind into a calm state, allowing her to focus on the voice again.
It came to be once more at the edge of her mind. A faint echo she could barely make out the words of.
“Ace glanced at him from the top of the captain’s chair and nodded.
“Name?”
“I’m Roger, sir.”
Ace grinned.
“Roger that..”
“No sir, just Roger.”
Ace nodded.
“Very well, assume command of the ermm…”
“The Golden Eyelashes, sir,” Roger reminded…”
There was a faint laugh, Arin couldn’t tell if it was hers or the voice’s, but the scene she heard made her lips curl up regardless. The scene was vivid, she remembered it in full detail. Ace – the charismatic otter mailman who made it through everything with charisma and a ‘can do’ attitude.
Memories began to flood her mind. They push the voice further into nothingness, memories of someone reading this story to her as she lay in bed. She felt her mouth open as if trying to call out a name but no sound escaped her lips.
The dreamlike whispers faded away, leaving Arin standing alone and in silence. She clung to her head, “What is this… Who read it to me? Was it my mother?”
After a long moment of silence and memories she couldn’t recall, she decided to shake it off and resume her investigation of this place. Snapping out of her stupor at last, she glanced over the desk again.
Arin noticed that one of the drawers was pried open just a smidge, enough to pique her curiosity. Before reaching for anything, she took a moment to examine the rest of the table, noticing that atop a stack of tomes and scrolls laid an item covered by dark velvet of the finest quality.
She reached for the velvet fabric, pulling it up to reveal beneath it an amulet that rested atop a folded, aged parchment.
The parchment’s corners were yellowed and brittle. She carefully pulled the parchment from beneath the amulet, unfolding it slowly and cautiously.
It revealed a hand-written note.
‘To Maglamor Helin.
This is our gift to you, magister..
This amulet is your key to successful ascension, yet we advise you wield it with caution, for it binds to the soul of its bearer. Should the amulet perish, so will you.
It will create the link to the realm of magic by absorbing the magic of the sister witches, allowing you to draw upon its endless reserves.
Become our new god.
— R.H’
Arin carefully slid open the drawer, her fingers brushing against the antique wood before coming to rest on a small, familiar book. At first glance, it looked entirely unremarkable – a worn book from some used books store, its edges slightly frayed, and its cover – unremarkable. Yet, as she focused on it for a moment, the title suddenly became apparently familiar to her – ‘A Disaster In The Waiting’, the book Kira had in class.
Arin flipped through the pages, stopping on the last chapter. Something about it felt wrong. A faint shimmer seemed to rise from the page as her fingers grazed the paper, and for a split second, the letters blurred into an unreadable mess before snapping back into place.
The room seemed to grow colder. Arin felt a pull from deep within the book, as if something ancient was calling to her from the pages. Her hand trembled as she closed it, but not before she noticed the small, inconspicuous symbol etched into the last page – one she didn’t recall seeing in class. It glimmered briefly before fading away.
This book was more than a simple novel. Something had changed, and she had to know why, but now was not the time for that.
With a hint of hesitation and a trembling hand, Arin reached for the diary, almost too afraid to know what she might find inside, yet curiosity got the best of her.
She flipped it over to a random page, her eyes scanned the unevenly scrawled text. Her jaw hung open as she read the entry.
‘One of the witch sisters has been captured. As expected – witch sisters are mighty even when split up. This one found my dwelling through, as she said – ‘being attracted to a source of abnormality’, tsk, I thought I hid it well. No matter, she was captured by my strongest sealing spell, the ‘reflectionless reality’, yet even now she fights and resists with all her might despite being dormant and forced to live out her dreams.
Albeit this threw my plans off the rails, step one is done, now I need to capture her sister. I’ve received the amulet, and the sacrifices are ready, as are the rest of the ingredients. Soon, very soon, I will be the new source of magic in this world.’
She gasped, panic flooded her mind. Stumbling backward, her foot got caught on the leg of the chair, throwing her off balance. The wooden floor proved to be as hard as it looked when she fell. Her robes softened the impact a little, but not enough to prevent the bruises she would soon have.
She pushed herself away, further from the desk. Her heart pounded in her chest, and each thump only further devastated her thoughts. Each thump of her heart threw her focus into a chaotic disarray.
She felt dizzy and lightheaded, dread and fear mixed into a single entity that probed at her very core instinct of fight or flight. The mana within her went haywire, occasionally sparking out of her fingers in a disorderly manner.
Her gaze momentarily fell upon a dark mirror in the corner of the room. For a moment, her mind stirred and tore at itself as if ravaged by an ancient beast that had been unleashed.
Her head throbbed; the possibility of discovering something she was not prepared for, and finding secrets that were meant to be sealed for all of eternity in this room.
After a moment to catch her breath, she pondered on what to do next.
The bookshelf stood against the far wall, its wooden frame darkened with age and dust that layered it like a warm blanket. She stepped closer, her fingers brushing over the spines of books stacked neatly. Each shelf was filled edge to edge, with some tomes seemingly laying atop the others due to lack of space on the shelves. The first thing that caught her eye was the title of a thick, leather-bound grimoire on the middle shelf, its cover adorned with gold symbols that shimmered strangely in the soft and gentle light emitted by the robes, ‘Blood Magic and Its Consequences’, it read.
The title sent a chill through her body.
Her gaze moved to another volume, one with charred edges, as if it had narrowly escaped being consumed by flames. For just a moment she hesitated, feeling bad for the book. Books are precious, and priceless, so for a tome to experience flames is truly tragic. She pulled it out from the orderly row of tomes that resembled parading soldiers with how neatly and tightly they had been standing, and flipped it open out of curiosity. The tome seemingly had several missing pages, they had been torn out in a rush. The raggedy remains of the torn pages made her heart clench.
“Poor thing,” she whispered, putting the tome back in its place before continuing along the shelf. Most of these tomes appeared to be magical in nature, or contain knowledge of magics that she dared not so much as touch. There was a certain heaviness in the air around the shelf – almost as if the books themselves carried dark, forbidden powers.
Arin carefully moved from shelf to shelf until she noticed a peculiar, ornate mirror nestled between two larger volumes. It didn’t quite seem to belong among the books.
Its frame was decorated with twisted symbols she couldn’t comprehend, but they resembled ancient runes.
A chill ran down Arin’s back, a gut feeling urging her to leave it be. For a moment – memories of her class’s excursion to the Grand Library’s archives bubbled up.
She remembered vividly how the archivist of the library informed them that the grimoires and tomes in the archives were so powerful that they had to be arranged in a way to cancel each other’s magic, and a single misplaced tome could see its words come to life.
She swallowed hard, curiosity pushing her further, this was just a dream world afterall, she was safe. The mirror’s mysterious aura kept drawing her attention, as if calling for her, yet Arin dared not pick it up. She angled herself so she could look into the mirror without touching it; her reflection looked back at her, but not as she did, it was different, it blinked when she did not.
Arin shuddered and recoiled, bumping into another bookshelf that was behind her. Her reflection laughed teasingly, and then disappeared.
As soon as she bumped into the other bookshelf, the voice rang in her mind once more. It was faint, a distant whisper.
“…two fishermen, Jake and Steve, were casting their nets on the eve of a fierce storm…”
Arin paused for a moment, regaining her focus and composure.
She chased after it, each word slipping through her consciousness like sand through fingers. Images of a darkening sea, storm clouds rolling in, and the flash of lightning flashed in her mind as the voice picked up fragments of a story:.
“… a flying pig dashed through the air…”
The words faded momentarily, and she strained, desperate to catch the next part. Just as the voice returned, it was softer, fragmented, the details hazy as if told from a dream.
“…a woman in the waves, barely holding onto a scrap of wood…”
A name starting with.
“K” floated up briefly in her mind, and for some reason, it filled her with a strange nostalgia. She could almost hear the sounds of the waves clashing with the ship, taste the spray of the salty waters, smell the sea air. Then, just as suddenly as it came, the voice faded, slipping away into the silence of the room. Arin opened her eyes, a lingering ache in her chest for the story she felt she should know but couldn’t fully remember.
For a moment, Arin wondered if she’d been remembering her own memories or someone else’s – a strange, unsettling thought. She glanced cautiously around the dark room, and then at the bookshelf against which her back was pressed.
The bookshelf that Arin bumped into shook as if displeased by the fact that it got bumped into. A single book fell from the top of it, landing on the stone floor with an audible thump.
Arin glanced down at the book, it looked familiar somehow. Kneeling to take a closer look, she recognized it now. It is the book from the class, from Kira, though, unlike the grimoire she read in the classroom, this one was already in its final and true form. Its cover shone much the same as in the real world, shifting array of iridescent hues, featuring colors that Arin had never seen before; colors she could only describe as ‘ancient magic’.
She picked it up, and to her surprise the grimoire looked simultaneously covered in dust, and clean.
Before she could so much as reach it with her other hand, the grimoire flipped itself open to an arbitrary page, it was blank at first, and then images and words began to appear. It described a very complicated, and seemingly impossible ritual, a ritual of Ascension to Sorcery.
Arin recalled that sorcerers were essentially demigods. They had an ethereal connection to the fundamentals of magic, and acted as beacons for the magic to enter our world through, as such, they were the sources of magic itself, hence the name – sorcerers.
Her body stiffened as she read on.
The ritual described in essence a power transfer from two witches bound by blood, sisters, to a wizard who had mastered the control of arcana. Sisters among witches were banned by the celestial decree, yet there have been cases when a witch would birth two children. Though those cases are exceptionally rare, even more so than the mythical flower Snow Rose.
“Creepy…” she thought to herself, unconsciously keeping a hold of the book as she glanced around the room for the next thing to examine.
The bed was grand yet ancient-looking, its tall posts carved from dark wood and draped with heavy, moth-eaten curtains that hung like shadows. The linens, while finely woven, had lost their color to time. Arin leaned in, catching the faintest whiff of something like old parchment and herbs, the kind of scent that lingered in a room where forbidden knowledge was studied late into the nights.
Her eyes shifted to the bedside table, its small drawer slightly ajar, almost beckoning her to peek inside. She reached for it.
Inside, Arin found a small, weathered, unsealed envelope. Opening it carefully, she slid out a letter that, despite its age, looked as though it had been written recently. The handwriting was sharp and precise, the ink as dark as spilled blood. The letter was addressed to some unknown council, its language intentionally obscure and vague but its intent was unmistakable and sinister.
‘To the esteemed members of the Obsidian Circle,’ it began, each word sounding ominous, the sharp writing style only added intensity and urgency to each of them. ‘After centuries of diligent waiting, I am on the brink of achieving what was once thought to be beyond mortal reach. I have discovered two witches bound by blood, in this very academy’s halls.
Witch sisters; the impossible. By their hand and by the power within them, I will ascend.’ It was signed – Maglamor Helin
She pulled her hand back, ‘Maglamor Helin, must be the owner of this palace.’.
The letter slipped from her fingers and landed softly on the sheets. A chill crept up her spine as she tried to dismiss the thoughts of some ancient dark wizard conspiracy theory.
“Nonsense!” she protested her worries, just to confirm them – ‘he was just a practitioner of the forbidden magic, out to capture a marvelous phenomenon witch sisters to drain them of their power to fuel his own greed for power.’.
Glancing back to the bedside, Arin’s eyes got caught on a small portrait frame near the magical lantern that was extinguished. Normally it would have an eternal-flame spell placed inside it.
Wiping away the thin layer of dust on the portrait, she revealed a familiar face. It stared back at her with cold, unreadable eyes. The man in the picture was leaning heavily on a cane, a small smile curving his lips in a way that sent another shiver through Arin. It was unmistakably – Professor Romal.
“NO,” she protested her thoughts, “It cannot be, he cannot be Maglamor Helin, surely…”
It seemed as though he had left a piece of himself here, a silent, lingering presence in this very portrait as if watching her every move. She took a wary step back, steadying breath, swallowing the unease that had started to swell within her.
She tried to decide on the next thing to examine.
Upon taking a wary step toward the mysterious object, the full-height mirror that stood beside the wardrobe, she heard the faint voice once more.
“We are Urtid…” the distant voice, like an echo of past, long forgotten, whispered to her. The familiarity of the voice sent chills through her body, she knew that voice yet couldn’t remember it. Gritting her teeth she shut her eyes, deciding, thinking.
“Calm her mind and focus, search for the voice, reach for it.”
‘No, please don’t leave! Tell me more of your tales…’ she pleaded, searching desperately for the voice amidst the silence and darkness.
On the outskirts, just beyond her reach, the voice lingers as a shapeless form, a whisp, a faint memory. The voice, barely audible, yet soft and beautiful, continues retelling the tale.
“When a witch of blood, darkness, or nature finds a snow rose…” the voice faded yet again but the phrase sparked a sense of Deja Vu within her.
Arin now found herself lying in bed, a faceless person sat beside her, speaking softly, telling her a story of a legendary witch that had once acquired a mythical flower and with its aid overcame her weaknesses and saved the life of a princess. A story of perseverance and the power of will, a story that is often told to young witches as a means of teaching them what it truly means to be a witch.
She sighed softly, refocusing herself, dismissing the sense of Deja Vu, searching again for the voice, yet not even an echo of it remained.
As she reopened her eyes, the mirror loomed before her. Arin felt a pull toward it as if an invisible thread tugged at her thoughts and body alike to approach it, to reach for it, to look into it. She walked warily toward it, her steps light and slow, hesitant yet unable to resist its pull; she approached it till she was but an arm’s length away.
Her instincts yelped not to stare into the mirror; its ominous presence made it seem like a bad idea.
After a quick glance at the mirror she shuddered, it was like staring into the abyss, and everybody knows what happens if you do.
There was a faint ripple that propagated through the mirror’s dark surface. As soon as it subsided, Arin saw her own silhouette staring back at her, yet after a moment she noticed that the details were all wrong. The silhouette wasn’t hers. The figure in the mirror appeared a little taller, and perhaps older. Her features – eerily familiar. The silhouette’s eyes were closed, body laying still as if trapped in some enchanted slumber, yet her lips moved as if murmuring something.
Arin leaned closer to the mirror in hopes of hearing what she’s saying. Suddenly the voice became audible, a sense of urgency filled the room as she heard a shout in her mind. The silhouette in the mirror remained still. Its eyes still closed yet its mouth moved as if shouting, and along with it – the voice rang in Arin’s ears. “What are you doing here!? Run! RUN My foolish sister! You must leave! You mustn’t let him catch you… Cerleno! Call out Cerleno!”
Arin recoiled, tearing her hand from the mirror; the silhouette instantly dissipated. She staggered backward, her body trembling as her mind plunged into chaotic disarray.
Fragmented memories flooded in, snippets of her forgotten past, scenes. She had remembered them differently, a person in those scenes who was gone before. Sister. The word echoed in her mind, like a rolling thunder that kept growing louder.
Two daughters born to the same witch, sisters; an impossibility…
She remembered now the whispered warnings of her mother, words she spoke to them before kissing them both goodnight, “You are my gift, my treasure. And just like treasure, there might be those that seek you and hunt for you.”
Dark wizard, Maglamor Helin. His name sounded sinister, heavy, and frightening. For a while, she forgot to breathe as she battled the onslaught of fright and confusion. Then managed a gasp at last, blinking the confusion away.
The missing puzzle pieces were now aligning. The oddities she kept noticing as of recently were no longer odd. The fourth chair at the dining table, the stranger in the family picture, the fourth wooden mug. The memories felt off and odd. It all made sense now, she was the missing piece.
Arin glanced back at the mirror, its smooth and reflectionless surface did not waver, but she heard the voice break through one last time, “Basement – 57…”
Arin hesitated, her trembling hand reaching for her robes. She grasped them, squeezing hard in a desperate attempt to calm herself down, “Ce…cer…ah…” she stuttered, letters stumbling over each other as she tried desperately to swallow the lump in her throat.
The weight of the newfound truth made her knees buckle as she struggled not to fall to the floor and break down into tears. Fear tugging at her mind and thoughts, sending them into complete disarray, rendering any attempts to focus futile. The last words she heard echoed in her mind, she murmured them unbeknownst to herself, “Basement 57.”
With fear lingering at the edge of her consciousness, striving to break in and consume her whole. She wanted to give in to the basic survival instinct and flee, yet a passage from the book she had just read in class surfaced in her mind, pushing the fear away,.
‘Even compared to the mightiest sorcerers – the sisters stood triumphant, for their sheer magical power could only be rivaled by the gods.’ That passage swept through her mind like a roar of thunder, flushing away the fear of the dark wizard.
If it truly was her sister there, that meant one thing and one thing only. That the goddess herself permitted this anomaly, and they were a living myth; proof that miracles happen. The power of witch sisters would easily rival that of a sorcerer, and now the ritual made sense. Maglamor Helin needed to absorb their powers, which would enable him to tap into the unlimited magic and mana.
Arin now stood tall and strong, albeit her body still trembled and knees still shook. Her focused gaze examined the mirror. She wasn’t quite sure how she’d break the spell just yet, but she knew that she needed to rescue her sister.
She closed her eyes and swallowed audibly, nervousness still lingering at the edges of her mind but resolve has taken center stage.
“Cerleno,” she whispered.
The spell roared like a rolling thunder and the world around her shattered.
The Awakening
When she reopened her eyes, she was sitting on a simple wooden chair, behind the professor’s desk.
“Ah, you’re awake,” the professor spoke softly as he threw a quick glance at the clock on the wall. Noticing that the five minutes had not quite passed yet, she awoke about a minute too soon.
Arin glared at the professor.
“Professor Romal. Yes, I am…” her gaze softened and lips curled into a gentle smile.
“Excellent,” he said curiously, taking a step closer, leaning heavily on his cane.
“How did it go?”
“It… went well, sir,” she lied; her voice steady and focused.
“Delightful,” he responded. His lips curled up into a faint smile.
“You seem focused, more so than before it, so much so in fact, that you broke the sleep spell.”
“Oh,” she gasped and then gulped, feeling the weight of his gaze upon her as if trying to perceive her thoughts. Trying not to flinch or look away, she continued firmly, “Uhm, is the exam world going to be the same for everyone?”
The professor nodded, “Yes, how was the forest? Met any interesting beings?”
She grasped her head, wincing from pain, faking a migraine.
“Ugh, it… it was overwhelming, Professor. I think I may need some time to recover,” she said, lowering her gaze.
Professor Romal frowned, leaning heavily on his cane, studying her; he seemed torn between suspicion and concern. Finally, he let out a thoughtful hum, “Very well. You’re not the first to feel overwhelmed by this trial. Check-in with the healers at the infirmary and then go home to get some rest.”
“Thank you, professor,” she murmured softly, forcing a weary smile as she slowly got up from the chair, still clenching her forehead.
“Don’t make a habit of it,” he added as she walked past him in the direction of her seat.
“And Kira? You may help her, take her belongings to the infirmary.”
“Ah? Yes, of course, professor,” Kira seemed surprised, but a mild hint of excitement could be heard in her voice, she was eager to skip out on the rest of the lecture.
As they exited the classroom and the door shut behind them, Arin at last allowed her shoulders to slump, “Phew…” she let out a relaxed sigh.
“Alrighty then, what’s this all about?”
Kira queried, squinting suspiciously at Arin.
“Not here, come… Let’s fake my headache at the infirmary for a check-in, and get out of here… I need to tell you things…”
“Hoh? Now you’ve got my attention, bestie! Lead the way.”
They walked hastily down the hallways and out the academy’s exit. The Grand Library would be to their left, closer to the city’s center, but assuming the professor would be watching her, she opted not to act out of the ordinary should the processor indeed take a peek. They went straight, in the direction of the marketplace until they were well outside the view of the academy.
“Sooo, what’s up?”
Kira queries again once they are sufficiently far enough.
“The dream world wasn’t a forest,” Arin replied, throwing a suspicious glance around.
“Hmm? So… you lied?”
“Naturally… you would too if you saw what I saw…”
Arin replied quietly, wariness in her voice.
“And what is that?”
Arin looked Kira in the eyes, her wary gaze was filled with fright.
“Professor Romal’s… erhm… truth about him, well… maybe.”
“What does that even mean!?”
“’I don’t know.’.”
It was not unusual for the academy’s students to visit the library, rather – it was expected. The students of the academy, aspiring witches, wizards, and mages, were welcome in all of the explored library’s floors. That’s not to say that they couldn’t go about into the unexplored sections of it, it’s rather the fact that most that do, never return. However, Arin knew where to go, and so they didn’t even need to stop by the information desk. They made their way onto a circular platform on the floor that began to move down instantly, plunging them into an endless, all-consuming darkness of the library’s basement floors.
Upon arriving on the desired floor, Arin wasted no time and burst through a door that led her straight into the hallway from the dream world.
“It’s… the same,” Arin uttered under her breath. Dust-coated portraits lined the walls and the antiqued carpets dressed the old floors. The air smelled faintly of despair, mildew, and bad decisions, such as breaking into a dark wizard’s dwelling.
“What is?”
Kira’s voice, just a step behind, carried a hint of confusion.
“This, everything here…”
Arin continued, glancing around nervously while trying to maintain her composure.
“I… don’t think I follow…”
Kira responded in a puzzled tone.
“For instance, look there,” Arin pointed toward the ornate door at the end of the hall, and then to the side a little. Her finger trembled like the last leaf on a tree, struggling against the chilly autumn’s breeze.
“See the portrait? Check the placard, it’ll be ‘Maglamor Helin’.”
Her voice wavered, afraid to confirm her suspicions.
Kira raised an eyebrow but didn’t hesitate to do as told. She headed for the door, and then brushed the dust off the placard with the sleeve of her robe, squinting at the engraved name. Kira’s eyes darted up to the portrait, where her palm smeared a streak through the year’s thick layer of dust.
“Doesn’t he look familiar?”
Arin asked cautiously, her voice barely a whisper.
Kira tilted her head, her lips parting slightly.
“Wait, is that…? Holy crap. He looks like Professor Romal!”
Arin nodded slowly.
“He does…”
Kira swallowed anxiously as she read the placard, “Mag-lamor, spelled backwards would be Romal. Freaky…”
Arin chuckled softly as she walked past Kira and the portrait, heading for the door. Her eyes glinting with mischief, “In the dream I tried the Secrecy Unveil spell on it,” she said, voice light and playful, “You know, just to see if the painting had any hidden truths or secret messages. I thought maybe the old wizard left a little clue behind.”
Kira’s curiosity piqued, she raised an eyebrow.
“Really? What did it unveil?”
Arin smirked, fighting to hold back a laugh.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing… I guess even magic can’t help us uncover whatever dark secrets this place is hiding.
“.
Kira stared at the portrait for a moment longer, her gaze narrowing slightly as if expecting it to reveal something else.
“Well, that’s a bit anticlimactic…”
Arin shrugged slightly.
As Arin reached for the door’s handle she realized her hand wasn’t playing along. It shook, hesitated, and then froze entirely, as if it had suddenly decided it was smarter than the rest of her body, opting not to make any more bad decisions.
Kira walked up beside Arin and placed her hand on top of Arin’s.
“Come on now, dark wizards are like tenth on the list of scary things we’ve dealt with. I’m here, let’s do this together. Besides, worst case scenario – we yoink some cursed artifact as proof, and make a run for it.”
Together they pushed the door open.
The room was like stepping into the same dream world that Arin had been in. Bookshelves lined the walls, the bed, wardrobe, even the ritual circle engraved into the floor, everything was the same. The worst thing of all was the dark, reflectionless mirror that too, was just as it was in the dream world. Faint remnants of magic lingered in the air.
“Okay,” Kira said, glancing around.
“Not gonna lie, this is way cooler than I expected. Eerie – truly a dark wizard’s dwelling huh?”
“Focus,” Arin hissed, her eyes focused in on the mirror. She swallowed hard, her stomach turned as her instincts battled reason, trying to persuade her that fleeing was the better choice.
“That’s it. That’s where she is,” Arin said, bobbing her head at a black mirror in the back of the room.
“Who now?”
Kira asked in a hushed tone.
“Kaelith…”
Arin responded.
“Run that by me one more time?”
“My sister…”
Arin murmured.
“Oh yeah, nah, that makes total sense… NOT!”
Kira exclaimed with audible, and visible confusion.
Arin sighed, speaking softly, “In the dream world I saw my sister, sealed away in this very mirror.”
Kira blinked, tilted her head, gave Arin the look of a confused puppy, blinked again, and then furrowed her eyebrows, “You have a sister?”
Arin sighed again, “I… think so? It seemed so in the dream world. It’s like, memories of something I had forgotten flooded me when I touched that mirror…”
“Oh… I see…”
Kira stared at Arin with a raised eyebrow, “well, just to be clear, if this thing sucks you into some alternate dimension, I’m not following. I’ll miss you, though.”
Arin ignored her, slowly approaching the mirror. Her steps were light, but hasty and filled with urgency. Each step Arin took made her heart pound in her ears, deafening almost all other sounds.
Arin placed her hand on the mirror. Its smooth, cold surface sent a chill through her body, much like in the dream world. She shuddered, but whispered the chant anyway. The mirror’s surface rippled, twisted, and then seemingly flipped inside out, revealing a silhouette on the other side. A sleeping body, that in its appearance, resembled Arin.
“Holy crap!? W-who is that?”
Kira gasped quietly.
“That is her…”
Arin responded quietly, “my sister, Kaelith. Now, how do we break the spell?”
Arin pondered, eyeing the person inside the mirror.
“I am not very familiar with erhm, sealing spells, and uhm, mirror prisons? Must’ve slept through that lecture,” Arin admitted.
In that instant, there was a thump as Kira fell to her knees, clenching her head and letting out a soft whimper.
“Kira!?”
Arin gasped, jumping to her friend’s aid, “Kira! What’s wrong?”
“Ughhhh! I-I remember her now… I remember now,” Kira groaned, gritting her teeth, “Kaelith… I remember her. How? She…she’s real? She’s… always been there? With us. How did we forget about her?”
“Yeah,” Arin nodded softly, rubbing Kira’s neck for a moment in a soothing manner, “I had the same reaction, a sudden flood of memories that I had forgotten, scenarios that were altered from how I remembered them. I guess it’s a sort of powerful sealing spell that removes the memories of a person from all those who knew them?”
“Yeah… ridiculous… this is ridiculous,” Kira murmured, slowly pushing herself up.
“Kaelith…” she whispered, throwing a glance at the figure in the mirror.
Like an echo of the past long forgotten, a distant voice whispered to her. Silent but unmistakable; the voice was soft and familiar.
“The mirror…”
“Right,” Arin muttered, shaking her head to clear the fog that seemed to thicken with every moment spent in this room. She approached the mirror, examining it closely.
“Right?”
Kira queries, turning to head toward the bookshelves in search of something.
“Uh,” Arin pondered how best to respond.
“Did I not mention the, uh, voices…?”
Arin asked softly.
“Voices? You’re hearing voices now? Oh how delightful, my friend is delusional. Just what I needed in a creepy murder room, a friend who is hearing voices. What’s next? Paintings going to start blinking?”
Arin sighed, “No I uhm, It’s Kaelith, I think so at least…”
“Ah,” Kira glanced at Arin, examining her face for a brief moment, “what did she say?”
“Mirror…?”
Arin murmured softly.
“That’s all?”
“Her voice is hushed and distant, with your constant chatter I don’t get a chance to focus on it and hear anything else.”
“Blah blah, let’s focus then,” Kira replied, sticking her tongue out playfully.
Kira paced by the bookshelf, examining it, her fingers tracing the ancient tomes that lined it. Arin remembered something – a small mirror that she had noticed in the dream world, fancy. Rather ordinary otherwise; except for the reflection within it.
“Wait,” Arin said, pointing.
“The mirror there, center shelf. Grab it, but don’t look into it!”
“What? Why not?”
Kira pouted, looking for the mirror in question.
“Trust me, just… don’t.”
Kira shot her a skeptical glance. As Kira picked up the mirror, she caught her reflection in it, out of the corner of her eye. Her own face stared back, then grinned devilishly. Kira yelped, nearly dropping the mirror.
“What in the?”
“Told you not to look!”
Arin said, suppressing a grin.
“It’s clearly no ordinary mirror.”
“Really? What gave you that idea? The fact that the reflection does whatever it pleases? Or the runes that decorate the mirror’s frame?”
Kira shot back, her eyebrows attempting a daring escape into the stratosphere.
Arin approached and studied the mirror closely. Her fingers tracing the runes carved into the handheld mirror’s frame. The metallic frame was cool to the touch, bringing with it a sense of serenity.
“The symbols match the ones on the black mirror. I think this is a key, or something similar.”
Kira’s eyes lit up.
“Let’s use it then. But if it starts being creepy again, I’m throwing it out the window.”
“There are none…”
Arin commented unenthusiastically as she walked back toward the black, reflectionless mirror with the small one in her hand.
“Anything?”
Kira asked impatiently.
“Give me time to think…”
Arin responded, comparing the symbols on the small mirror and the large, black one.
“Ask her for advice,” Kira suggested.
“It’s not like I can force it, Kaelith’s voice is elusive… silent. She’s… in a dream state of sorts, only occasionally does she manage to whisper something.”
Kira sighed, grabbed the mirror out of Arin’s hands, and continued to pace around the room. Arin in turn kept staring at the black mirror, occasionally glancing around the room in search of clues.
“Oh, I know – how about we just stare into the small mirror until it scares us to death,” Kira suggested sarcastically, clenching the mirror with all her might, as if it might bite should she loosen her grip; like an angry chihuahua.
“I’d rather not have to figure out a resurrection spell, thanks. That little one is clearly linked to that creepy thing.”
She gestured, glancing at Kira pacing back and forth. For a moment Arin felt like a spectator at an exceptionally aggressive tennis match, she could feel the tension building up in her neck.
Kira’s eyebrow shot up like a firework in the night, “Oh great, so we use the creepy small mirror to do something with the big eerie one. What could possibly go wrong?”
“Got a better idea?”
Arin snapped back.
“Yes, actually… we could, hear me out – go out there, to the ministry of magic, or the council itself, and, uhm, explain everything and come back here with a whole army of battle mages and grand wizards, to rescue your sister and apprehend Maglamor. Hmm? Pretty good plan, isn’t it?”
Arin nodded sarcastically, “Sure, how about we grab some latte on the way? Let the evil and ominous spell imprisoning my sister, do whatever it wishes with her.”
“Ughhh, fine…”
Kira groaned.
“But, if some creepy monster jumps out of either of those mirrors, that’s on you, bestie.”
Arin returned her attention to the big mirror. It loomed silently, its smooth, black, and reflectionless surface made Arin feel as uneasy as the first time she had seen it. She swallowed hard, “How about we…” she began.
“Wait!”
Kira shouted, interrupting her.
“Don’t tell me you want to reflect the big creepy murder mirror in the tiny murder mirror?”
“Well, yes. That’s exactly what I was going to suggest,” Arin responded, furrowing her eyebrows slightly.
Kira smirked, folding her arms up all proud-like.
“Don’t look so surprised. Even I have good ideas occasionally, like when I helped you with the pop-quiz earlier today.”
“Right, ‘helped’,” Arin murmured.
Kira held the mirror out, “You do it.”
“Fine,” Arin grabbed the mirror out of Kira’s hands and turned it, adjusting it and angling it toward the black mirror. The runes on both mirrors began to glow faintly. For a moment, an echo-like hum reverberated through the room. A moment later, the ominous room fell silent again.
“Did… it work?”
Kira asked, peeking from behind a statue.
“Well,” Arin began, then peeked into the small mirror.
“The large one doesn’t seem aligned, as in… it’s uhm, we need to angle them perfectly to look directly at each other, I guess.”
“Angle them perfectly? Say no more! Let me just quickly call the mirror adjustment bureau to come over and help us out. Stand right there and don’t move, I’ll be right back,” Kira mocked, turning on her heel toward the door.
“Kira!”
“Fine…”
Kira responded, walking backward.
“I’ll adjust the big, just uh, turn that creepy thing away from me. I don’t wanna see my reflection being creepy anymore.”
Arin nodded, turning the mirror to the side for a moment as Kira made her way to the large one.
“You’re holding it wrong by the way,” Kira began.
“Holding it wrong?”
Arin protested, clutching the small mirror tighter, “It’s a mirror, not a teacup, how am I holding it wrong!?”
Kira pushed the large mirror down slightly until it seemingly faced Arin directly.
“You’re squeezing it like it’s an angry chihuahua that’d bite you were you to loosen your grip.”
“You did the same! What? Wanna switch?”
Arin offered, holding the small mirror out.
“Yes! That means I won’t get to see my reflection in it, perfect!”
Kira took a few long, hasty steps toward Arin and held her hand out.
“Give.”
Arin handed the small mirror over to Kira and made her way to the black mirror as Kira juggled the small one nervously like a hot potato.
“Okay,” Kira said, holding the mirror at arm’s length.
“This thing is way too creepy. Why does it feel like it’s watching me?”
“Probably because it is,” Arin replied, rolling her eyes. She carefully adjusted the large mirror’s angle again.
Kira forced a smile, “Awesome. Let’s hurry up before it decides to start whispering sweet nothings into my soul or before the owner of this room returns.”
As the two mirrors finally aligned perfectly, the room began to hum with a low, resonant vibration for the briefest of moments, the kind of hum that suggested that something was about to happen, or an explosion was imminent. Candles throughout the room flickered to life, creating a sort of dramatic and intense atmosphere right before a boss battle started. The symbols on both mirrors pulsed to life, glowing brightly, brighter than the ego of a witch that aced the graduation exam.
The black mirror’s reflectionless surface rippled like a lake that had a boulder thrown into it. Suddenly, a beam of bright light shot out of it. Kira clumsily ducked for cover, like a barely trained rookie during their first day of basic combat training, tossing the small mirror aside.
Arin in turn lept to the side, landed on the soft bed, rolled over it in a well-practiced motion. This was someone far too familiar with leaping out of their bed when late for school, and ducked for cover on the other side.
The light disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving the room in eerie and gloomy light of the candles.
“Fireball!”
Kira shouted out.
“No, don’t!”
Arin yelled back, peeking over the bed at her panicked companion who had her hand stretched out toward the mirror, mana flickering and sparking from her fingertips.
“No!?”
Kira questioned.
“No!”
A voice echoed from the black mirror, which upon a quick glance, revealed a lack of surface. It more resembled a doorway now. The voice was filled with, “Finally! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?”
Kira peeked from behind her cover, “Uh, I’m guessing… too long?”
Kaelith’s figure began to emerge from the mirror. Her spectral form solidified the moment she stepped out. She looked remarkable like Arin in the mornings, before any appearance changes. They were unmistakably sisters.
As Kaelith dusted her robes off and glanced around the room, she replied calmly.
“Correct, far too long have I waited for the two of you to shut up. Next time, try solving a magical puzzle without bickering. It was excruciating.”
Arin blinked.
“You could hear us?”
“Every. Single. Word,” Kaelith replied, glancing over her shoulder at Arin. A gentle smile crept up on her face, “Although,” her gaze darted to Kira, “the angry chihuahua comparison was amusing. I’ll give you that.”
Kira grinned.
“See? My humor is appreciated.”
Kaelith turned to Arin, ignoring Kira.
“Now that I’m free, we have little time, my dear, little sister. As much as I wish to embrace you and hold you until you start tapping and begging for air, I fear we ought to hurry. Maglamor likely already knows of the intrusion and is on the way here.”
Arin swallowed hard, and sighed, “Yes, of course, uhm, welcome b…”
“Wait!”
Kira interrupted.
“Before we move on, just one question.”
Kaelith frowned.
“Yes?”
“Is the big mirror creepy prison still dangerous? Or is it safe to use as home decor now?”
Kaelith rolled her eyes.
“Priorities, I see. Should be safe, but I’d advise against it.”
“Noted!”
Kira said cheerfully.
“Let’s go save the day!”
Kaelith muttered under her breath, “Hopeless…” while leading the way out of the room.
”So, Kaelith, any chance you could, you know, turn that creepy mirror into a stylish new coffee table for my apartment?
“ Kira asked, glancing back at the still-slightly-glowing mirror.
“Or maybe just, teleport it to my apartment?”
Kaelith didn’t so much as shoot a glance at Kira, though her eye-roll could be sensed.
“As amusing as your idea is, I think it’s best to leave that thing behind.”
“Alright, alright. No new furniture. But, if we live through this, can we at least get matching T-shirts that say ‘I Survived Dark Wizard’s Chambers’?”
Kira suggested playfully.
Arin groaned, rubbing their temples.
“If we survive this, Kira, we’ll get whatever kind of t-shirts you may want…”
Kira clenched her fist, making a barely noticeable win pose, “Alright!”
Kaelith turned her head just enough for Arin to notice her raised eyebrow.
“I take it I missed something?” she said softly.
“Oh, just Kira’s ongoing battle with mirrors trying to eat her soul, she really didn’t like that living reflection thing,” Arin muttered.
“It’s whatever! I’m totally over it now, and I just saved the day while our miss heroine was napping in a mirror, waiting for her cue to dramatically emerge,” Kira commented, faking disinterest.
Kaelith took a deep breath, “Well, I am ever so grateful to you two for rescuing me, but, your endless bickering was hardly on my to-do list. I had almost wished you would’ve left me in that mirror for a few more years. But, seeing as I’m free now – all this…” she gestured vaguely around the hallway, “whatever this is, and Maglamor’s evil plans, we’ll stop it all. As you said – let’s save the day.”
Arin glanced up at her sister’s back. She wasn’t much taller, in fact, maybe by a mere centimeter at best. However, in this moment – Kaelith’s confidence and composure made her feel so much bigger than she was. Arin had to hold back from squealing like a fangirl meeting a celebrity crush. Memories continued to flood her mind.
Kaelith had always been like this: calm, collected, coldblooded, analytical, composed, and dominant in her presence. She was the prodigy – the strongest graduating witch of the past century.
Kira nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! Save the day, stop the evil! All the good stuff… Let’s just hope we won’t have to deal with any more enchanted or cursed items today.”
Then Kira gasped and stopped dead in her tracks, eyes as wide as a full moon on a clear night, “Cursed… wardrobe. Can you imagine? Endless supply of clothes, but it always gives you the worst combination of colors and outfits… Oh the horror,” she shuddered.
Kaelith groaned, “Please, stop. I’m trying to be serious here.”
She still couldn’t quite keep her emotions under control, a faint semblance of a smile formed on her lips.
“Fine,” Kira said with mock seriousness, “but can we agree that if a cool cursed object promises me endless power, I’m taking it? Ohhh, like… an ancient grimoire of necromancy!? Wouldn’t that be dope?”
“Sure,” Arin replied.
“The great necromancer Kira, I can already foresee it. Wanna go look for one of those in the room we just left?”
Kira glanced over her shoulder as if contemplating the possibility, but then something fell in the room behind them, making Kira jump, hastening her pace to catch up to Kaelith, “No, uhm, next time.”
Kaelith paused for just a moment, glancing at her hand. A glowing orb of concentrated mana appeared in the palm of her hand. She smirked, “This’ll do. Come closer.”
Kira and Arin hurried closer to her. Kaelith raised her hand and began to murmur a chant that neither of them was familiar with.
Kira glanced at Arin who simply responded with a shrug.
The air around them began to crackle with energy, and the glowing orb in her hand pulsed.
“Uh, Kaelith, what exactly are you doing now?”
Kira asked, her eyes darting around in anticipation.
“Summoning a portal,.
“ Kaelith said without breaking her concentration. .”
A shortcut to get us out of here. It’s the quickest way to stop Maglamor.
“.
“Sooo, is he really an ancient evil wizard? Or is he just really bad at decorating and accidentally trapped you in the mirror?”
Kira gestured vaguely to the ominous room they had just left behind.
“Oh, he’s the worst kind of evil,.
“ Kaelith muttered, eyes narrowing.
“But first… Brace! Get close,” she called out hastily, stopping her chant.
Before others had a chance to comprehend what was happening, a huge crack split open in the ceiling. It reveals a terrifying figure descending through the hole. It was Maglamor, or as Arin and Kira knew him – Professor Romal. He dressed in dark robes, shrouded in darkness, an aura of evil emitted from him. His eyes fixed firmly on the witches beneath him.
“Leaving so soon, my dear, uninvited guests?” he spoke slowly, his voice cold and harsh, like an icicle that probed at their bare backs.
Arin gulped, feeling a cold chill run down her spine.
Kira shot a glare at the professor and raised her hand, ready to fire a spell in his direction. Before she could gather the mana, Kaelith’s hand caught hers, pressing it firmly down.
Kaelith stepped past them to place herself between the threat and the girls.
“You might want to sit this one out…”
Kaelith whispered softly, glancing over her shoulder with a gentle smile while raising her own hand.
In an instant, an orb formed in Kaelith’s hand and shot out like an arrow in the direction of Maglamor. He barely had time to react before the energy blasted into him, sending him crashing into the wall with a bone-shaking thud.
“I’ll admit,” Maglamor growled, his voice sounding pure evil, “I didn’t expect you to have recovered this much mana so soon after being released,” He raised his hands, conjuring dark energy that spiraled around him like a storm.
“Still, that won’t be enough.”
Kaelith held her left hand out as if a noble prince asking a princess for a dance.
“Arin? Won’t you join me?”
Arin hesitantly took a step forth, “But, I’m…”
Kaelith smirked, “You didn’t read the grimoire did you?”
“Gri…moire?”
“Heh, remember the tale of two witch sisters from the golden era?”
“Ah!”
Arin remarked, vaguely remembering having read about it.
“Yes, the divine decree and all that.”
“Exactly,” Kaelith’s lips curled up into a smile despite her focus glued to the threat that loomed over them.
Arin took her sister’s hand. Their mana intertwined in the very same instant, combining and balancing the two of them, as if forming a single entity out of the two.
Kaelith smirked confidently. A bolt of lightning shot out of the palm of her hand, colliding with Maglamor’s brewing storm of darkness.
At first it seemed as if nothing happened, but then the lightning proceeded to bounce around within the darkness, tearing at it from the inside, wreaking havoc within it. Maglamor’s control faltered momentarily before he managed to regain his focus, forcing the lightning out by opening a path for it. A grave mistake. Kaelith was waiting for just the opportunity.
“Now,” Kaelith commanded. Arin extended her free hand forth. Their intertwined mana perfectly balanced and supported each other. Out of Kaeliths palm a gust of wind, mighty enough to topple over the strongest of ships, shot out. Out of Arin’s palm, in turn, a fiery dragon flew out. Its flames got enhanced by the winds, its wings spreading wider and wider.
Arin watched in awe as the fiery monster engulfed Malgamor’s darkness, consuming and burning all in its path like a harbinger of death and destruction.
“You think you’ve won?”
Maglamor chuckled devilishly. Though he tried to seem unfazed, his form flickered violently as the dark aura struggled to rebuild itself.
“You’ve only delayed the inevitable. You, both of you, will be mine,” he almost growled.
“Oh, I’m sure this is just the beginning… of our story,” Kaelith said, her voice filled with deadly calm.
“But you won’t be around to see the end.”
He sneered, it was a confident sneer for the briefest of moments. It lasted until he realized that the shapes he had been talking with were fading away like a mirage in a desert. Shrouded by his very own darkness, Kaelith and Arin stood right behind him. The dark, reflectionless mirror hovered between them and him. As he turned around after finally catching a glimpse of their mana, he heard Kaelith’s voice speak a word that echoed in his mind like the bells on a Sunday morning.
“Seleium.”
A simple activation word she had heard him speak once when she got sealed in that very mirror.
The mirror’s surface turned normal for a split second, just long enough for him to catch a glimpse of his terrified expression as the mirror absorbed him whole. Along with his darkness, leaving behind only a faint trace of his mana, that soon faded like a distant echo of a voice in an empty hall.
Kaelith glanced at Arin, “He doesn’t deserve to live…”
“We do not decide that, the authorities do.”
As Kaelith lowered the mirror down, along with herself and Arin, Kira emerged from behind a pillar.
“Well, that was… intense. You two make a banger of a team!”
Kaelith gave her a short-lived smile after glancing Arin up and down, examining her for injuries before giving a tired and barely noticeable nod. Her lips already began moving, murmuring the portal spell.
Arin glanced at the mirror, her expression tense and concerned, “Yeah… I just hope he stays locked away for good. The authorities will deal with him.”
Kira glanced at the mirror, “Does this mean we get to add ‘evil wizard slayer’ to our resumes?”
“Well, we didn’t exactly ‘slay’ him, did we?”
Kira furrowed her brows for a moment, “Dawh… erhm, capturers? Uhh… hunters?”
“Neither,” Arin murmured, “Let’s just get out of here…”
“Do you reckon we’ll still have a final exam?”
Kaelith chortled, “Final exam? Don’t be silly. I’ll talk to the administration, they’ll pass you both with honors and awards.”
The council chose to keep this incident swept under the rugs, in part to assure the safety of the miracle – the witch sisters Kealith and Arin, and in part – not to ruin the academy’s good reputation.
Maglamor was taken by the grand wizards of the council and sealed inside a crystal, inside the mirror. The smaller mirror, the only key to breaking his eternal prison, was entrusted to the head of the academy for safekeeping. The academy portrayed Professor Romal’s disappearance as an emergency reassignment. The truth was to be sealed away and forgotten, as was Maglamor himself.
– The End –
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