Here’s your unique version of the What Does It Matter story. Full Ahoy’s braved this adventure alongside Arin, and created it with the choices they made. The end is nigh – Jan. 19th, 2025 which is just one of 11 possible endings.
This story was created with the Wondrous Tales 3 year anniversary interactive special .
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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…, Neutral today.
Arin headed downstairs where their mother was already serving breakfast.
“Morning – Mom, Dad,” they spoke cheerfully, sitting down at the dining table. Their father peeked from behind the newspapers, scanning them up and down.
“Morning darling, you look as beautiful as ever,” he replied.
“Thanks Dad!”
As their mother served them breakfast, their eyes darted momentarily to the empty fourth chair at the table, and then the four wooden mugs that lined the windowsill; they pondered yet again about these.
“Mom?” they called out softly.
“Yes?”
They got up from the table and let their gaze wander the dining room. Sweeping it left to right, taking in all the details they could pick out. Something felt really off, as if an itch at the back of their mind that they couldn’t scratch. Everything seemed fine at first glance – a typical family space, but there were subtle hints that made it feel off.
Their eyes landed on the coat hanger by the door, it had four hooks on it, and only three coats hung on it. Beside it, on the wall was a coat rack, also with four hooks.
“Why four,” she murmured.
Their father glanced up from his newspaper, “Hmm?”
“Nothing,” they swiftly replied, “Don’t mind me, just thinking.”
Their gaze continued drifting around the room, searching for something else that seemed out of place or odd.
Above the fireplace stood a framed photo, the only photo in the room. Arin walked over to it slowly, and as they got closer, they froze for a moment. There, on the photo was their family: their mother, father, themselves, they were quite young, perhaps six or seven in this photo, and another child, a girl that stood near them. They were holding hands.
“Who’s this?”
Arin asked curiously, reaching for the photo, and then showing it to their parents.
“That is…” their mother began and then paused, staring anxiously at the photo.
“Hun? Who is that?”
Their father glanced over his shoulder, “That’s… uhh, wasn’t that our neighbor’s daughter at the time? Uhmm, Amelia wasn’t it? Sure’s been a while huh? They moved out pretty quickly if memory serves me right, we didn’t quite get to know them well.
“Aha, yes, right,” their mother agreed.
“I… see…” they carefully sat the photo back where they took it, and nodded. A chill ran down their spine; their memories still felt jumbled.
They returned to the table and sat back down, leaning heavily on their hand.
Arin felt a gentle hand on their 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,” they replied smugly.
“You’re as ready as you will ever be my dear. Now… as per tradition in our family,” their 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. Their mother opened it and turned it toward Arin. It held various items within it, but the few that caught their 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,” their 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…” they hesitated, glancing over the items again.
“What does the bracelet do?”
“My mother’s bracelet. Your grandmother, a battle-crazed witch she was… She’d charge head-first into any kind of dangerous situation and accept every duel and challenge. Seriously, she was a crazy witch, and this bracelet inherited her battle craze, in a sense. This bracelet is essentially an amplifier, enhancing and empowering the witch’s spells, quite formidable I dare say, just as your grandmother was.”
“What about these earrings?”
“Oh…” their mother seemingly drifted into her memories for a while, then proceeded with a smile.
“These earrings were crafted for your great-grandmother to help her replenish mana easier and focus it better. She was a spectacular witch who had single-handedly sustained a protective barrier for four days during an assault of horrors until the army showed up to relieve her. These earrings are made with the finest amethysts collected from a crystal-eyed Basilisk.”
“She did that?”
Arin commented with a gasp.
“Oh she did… She was incredible, as mighty as they get, but far from the mightiest in our family tree,” their mother chuckled.
“What’s this ring?”
“A beautiful ring, isn’t it?” their 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?” their mother queried.
“I’ll go with…”
“The Bracelet of Power!”
The door shut quietly behind them. As they peered over their shoulder, the face made of bark peered back at them 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. Their 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 them, 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,” they replied, “got time to kill before the academy,” their gaze wandering over the cluttered shelves.
As they walked through the shop, a faint hum drew their 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 their 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 their gaze away.
They eventually settled on a few small charms – nothing extravagant, but useful enough.
As they handed over their payment, Theox smiled slyly, “Good luck at the academy today,” he said, his tone oddly knowing.
“Thanks,” Arin replied, the back of their neck prickling as they 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 their skin.
They waved their hand in front of themselves, 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 their finger and opened their mouth. The cool drops burst into a refreshing mist in their mouth as soon as they touched their tongue. A shudder coursed through their 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 their surprise, there were no other students in sight to see how they got through this obstacle.
‘Must be another pop quiz,’ they thought to themselves. Tracing the edge of one of the stones that made the wall, they felt upset over the fact that they slept through the lecture when they learned the ‘pass-through’ spell.
Arin furrowed their brow, muttering, “Alright, think. It’s just a wall. How hard can passing through it be?”
With all the confidence of someone who definitely didn’t nap through the lecture where they learned the theory behind the complex spell pass through, they began waving their hands in what they had hoped looked spell-worthy.
“Uh… Squishius Bodius?” they tried, tapping the stones. Nothing happened.
They glanced around to ensure no one saw that pitiful attempt at magic.
“Okay, maybe more flair?”
They twirled their hands dramatically and whispered, “Passium Throughum!”
A faint hum of magic filled the air – and promptly fizzled out like a damp sparkler.
Their frustration began piling up.
“Fine, I’ll just…”
Arin stomped their foot and jabbed their finger at the wall. “Obey me, you stupid magical rock barricade!”
The wall groaned. For one heart-stopping second, it looked like they’d succeeded – until a single stone dislodged itself and bonked them squarely on the forehead.
“Ow! Ugh, stupid wall!”
As they rubbed their forehead, the realization settled in – they’d either need to rethink their strategy or get creative with an excuse as to why they skipped lectures today.
Arin cracked their knuckles, staring down the wall like it had insulted their family lineage.
“Alright, you oversized pile of rocks, let’s dance.”
They focused their mana, feeling it swirl and gather in their palm like a storm ready to unleash.
“If the academy wanted subtlety, they should’ve installed a door,” they muttered; their eyes narrowing. Raising their hand, Arin chanted the incantation with practiced precision; the mana focused and took shape.
It formed into a mighty flaming shape of a dragon, and as they unleashed it – it tore through the air like a harbinger of apocalypse, akin to the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The grass on the ground beneath it turned to ash, and the stones melted, solidifying into obsidian moments later.
There was a deafening explosion, a flash of light so bright, it burned itself into Arin’s retinas and they’ll be seeing it every time they blinks for the rest of the day.
At last, Arin posed triumphantly as they noticed the lack of wall, in fact, the lack of the entire academy’s front wall, not just the door-blocking wall. There was now a gaping hole leading straight into the foyer – and a lot of debris. They blinked at the destruction, brushing soot off their sleeves.
“I wonder if that’s an A+ …”
The sound of hurried footsteps snapped their attention to a furious professor storming toward them, robes swirling like an angry storm cloud.
“Witch Arin!” he called out to them, his voice echoing off the remains of the obliterated wall.
Arin offered their most innocent smile.
“Good morning, Professor! I, uh… was just helping the uhhh… demolition staff.”
Behind them, the rubble groaned painfully as a free-standing segment of the wall gave up the fight to remain standing, and crashed onto it like an exhausted soldier.
“Garden service, for one month!.”
“Worth it,” they muttered under their breath, striding confidently into the foyer, head held high like a true demolition artist.
“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, they tilted their head slightly, just enough to let the voice know they had their attention.
“If you’re looking for an autograph, I’m afraid my quill is out of ink,” they 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,” they 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?” they 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 their 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 their 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 they knew of the Golden Magical Era – a time in history when magical power was abundant.
“Would you like to borrow it?”
Kira asked softly.
They hesitated, glancing at the book again, then shook their head with a faint smile.
“No, I don’t think so. Fiction’s… fine, but I’ve got enough on my plate without adding tall tales to the mix.”
“Fair,” Kira replied with a shrug, tucking the book back into her bag.
“You’ve always been more of a ‘facts and figures’ person anyway.”
“That’s because facts and figures keep me from failing,” they shot back, arching an eyebrow.
“Unlike certain someone, who thinks that charm and last-minute cramming are valid academic strategies.”
Kira grinned, leaning lazily on the desk.
“Well, you can’t argue with the results. I’m still here, aren’t I?”
“Barely,” they teased, their lips curling into a smirk.
They stared at each other for a brief moment before breaking into quiet laughter. The tension eased, replaced by the comfort of their usual banter.
“Ahem… Witch Arin?” they heard a voice calling out to them. Snapping back to reality, they glanced around for the source of the voice, and then realized that all eyes were on them. A soft gasp escaped their lips, they bowed their head understandingly.
“It would seem to me that you wish to volunteer for the upcoming exercise?”
“Yes, Professor Romal,” they 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.”
They 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. They sighed.
As they returned their attention to the board , they 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.”
They 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 themselves. They 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 they sank into the cushion of the chair they felt unease wash over them. It was as if the chair was going to swallow them 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 them, 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?” they 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?”
They pulled a small vial from the inner pocket of their robe, popped it open, and poured the contents into their 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 them, 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, they felt a surge of his magic, like a tsunami, wash through their body, and with it, their consciousness faded.
They were not sure what to expect of the dream world, but one thing they were certain of – it was darker than they had anticipated. The stale dusty air made them uncertain if they 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,” they whispered. Their 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 they found themselves.
The hallway was rather unremarkable. There were exactly two doors, one at each end. The door to their right seemed fancier. It had ornaments upon it that seemed rather old school. Now that they 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.
Arin squinted at the nearest painting, leaning closer to it. As they brushed it with their sleeve, a plume of dust erupted off it, as if offended by their presence. It enveloped them like an angry air elemental that had decided to act like a desert storm.
When the storm settled at last, they frowned. The painting before them 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.
They 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.’ They chucked, “Dreams of what? The end?”
Their gaze traveled onwards, like that of a traveler on the top of a mountain, gazing at a horizon, though their horizon was much closer – it was the next painting over.
This one was a little less dusty, and they dared not anger the dust spirits again, so they 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.
They glanced at a bare wall that looked suspicious. In fact, it was acting so suspicious that they 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.
They 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 they 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, they 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 their question, “Fair point… Ahem, password?”
“Password…?”
They blinked in disbelief, “Uh, open sesame?”
“Wrong,” the wall groaned out, in a tone that could best be described as ‘tsundere’, whatever that means.
“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 them, “That’s three strikes, you’re out.”
They 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.
They leaned into the wall, their fingers gliding over the peeling, old, wallpaper, thinking what else to do.
The wall shuddered as if resisting a cackle.
“Hmm?” they pondered, but the wall remained silent, wiggling their fingers against the peeling wallpaper again, the wall shuddered once more, and then let out a muffled snort.
“Oh?” they smirked cheerfully.
“Sh…Shut up! Cease this tomfoolery immediately,” the wall demanded.
“And what if I don’t?” they mocked it back, continuing to wiggle their 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.
They smirked, pressing the palm of their 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…”
They stepped through, hearing the thud as the door closed behind them, 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.
They exhaled a sigh of relief and As soon as they did, they heard a voice, like a distant echo in their 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 their eyes after taking a few steps into the room. Their mind chased after the voice like a fox chasing a rabbit. It was elusive, every time they thought they 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…’
They chased the voice again, a distant source, an unseen echo in the deepest corners of their 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. They recognized these story fragments, they were from a storybook of Wondrous Tales that they enjoyed so much as a kid.
The voice was gone now, as if never there. They reopened their eyes, carefully looking around. There was no one.
As they 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. They thought they 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.
They 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 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.
Their eyes shifted to the bedside table, its small drawer slightly ajar, almost beckoning them to peek inside. They reached for it.
Inside, Arin found a small, weathered, unsealed envelope. Opening it carefully, they 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
They pulled their hand back, ‘Maglamor Helin, must be the owner of this palace.’.
The letter slipped from their fingers and landed softly on the sheets. A chill crept up their spine as they tried to dismiss the thoughts of some ancient dark wizard conspiracy theory.
“Nonsense!” they 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, they revealed a familiar face. It stared back at them 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,” they protested their 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 their every move. They took a wary step back, steadying breath, swallowing the unease that had started to swell within them.
They tried to decide on the next thing to examine.
The bookshelf stood against the far wall, its wooden frame darkened with age and dust that layered it like a warm blanket. They stepped closer, their 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 their 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 their body.
Their gaze moved to another volume, one with charred edges, as if it had narrowly escaped being consumed by flames. For just a moment they hesitated, feeling bad for the book. Books are precious, and priceless, so for a tome to experience flames is truly tragic. They 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 their heart clench.
“Poor thing,” they 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 they 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 they 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 they couldn’t comprehend, but they resembled ancient runes.
A chill ran down Arin’s back, a gut feeling urging them to leave it be. For a moment – memories of their class’s excursion to the Grand Library’s archives bubbled up.
They 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.
They swallowed hard, curiosity pushing them further, this was just a dream world afterall, they were safe. The mirror’s mysterious aura kept drawing their attention, as if calling for them, yet Arin dared not pick it up. They angled themselves so they could look into the mirror without touching it; their reflection looked back at them, but not as they did, it was different, it blinked when they did not.
Arin shuddered and recoiled, bumping into another bookshelf that was behind them. Their reflection laughed teasingly, and then disappeared.
As soon as they bumped into the other bookshelf, the voice rang in their 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 their focus and composure.
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, they recognized it now. It is the book from the class, from Kira, though, unlike the grimoire they 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 they could only describe as ‘ancient magic’.
They picked it up, and to their surprise the grimoire looked simultaneously covered in dust, and clean.
Before they could so much as reach it with their 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.
Their body stiffened as they 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…” they thought to themselves, unconsciously keeping a hold of the book as they glanced around the room for the next thing to examine.
The desk stood in the corner, near the ingredients shelf. As they approached it, they once more noted that the old floorboards hardly made a sound. Throwing a quick glance around the desk, they 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.
They paused for a moment, their fingers lingering on the edge of the dusty desk. A faint murmur tickled their mind once more. The same soft and familiar voice they had heard before, as if carried by distant ripples over immeasurable distance, balancing on the edge between the heard and unheard.
Closing their eyes for a moment, they pursued the voice, focusing on it.
‘… You’re mister Dark-feather? A pigeon… – is that correct?..’
The words blurred as their focus wavered while they tried to remember what tale this was a part of while the voice was slipping away.
“Ignore the voice and return to examining the desk.”
Arin noticed that one of the drawers was pried open just a smidge, enough to pique their curiosity. Before reaching for anything, they 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.
Upon taking a wary step toward the mysterious object, the full-height mirror that stood beside the wardrobe, they heard the faint voice once more.
“We are Urtid…” the distant voice, like an echo of past, long forgotten, whispered to them. The familiarity of the voice sent chills through their body, they knew that voice yet couldn’t remember it. Gritting their teeth they shut their eyes, deciding, thinking.
As they reopened their eyes, the mirror loomed before them. Arin felt a pull toward it as if an invisible thread tugged at their thoughts and body alike to approach it, to reach for it, to look into it. They walked warily toward it, their steps light and slow, hesitant yet unable to resist its pull; they approached it till they were but an arm’s length away.
Their 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 they 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 their own silhouette staring back at them, yet after a moment they noticed that the details were all wrong. The silhouette wasn’t theirs. 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 their lips moved as if murmuring something.
Arin leaned closer to the mirror in hopes of hearing what they’s saying. Suddenly the voice became audible, a sense of urgency filled the room as they heard a shout in their 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 their hand from the mirror; the silhouette instantly dissipated. They staggered backward, their body trembling as their mind plunged into chaotic disarray.
Fragmented memories flooded in, snippets of their forgotten past, scenes. They had remembered them differently, a person in those scenes who was gone before. Sister. The word echoed in their mind, like a rolling thunder that kept growing louder.
Two daughters born to the same witch, sisters; an impossibility…
They remembered now the whispered warnings of their 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, they forgot to breathe as they 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 they 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 they heard the voice break through one last time, “Basement – 57…”
Arin hesitated, their trembling hand reaching for their robes. She grasped them, squeezing hard in a desperate attempt to calm themselves down, “Ce…cer…ah…” they stuttered, letters stumbling over each other as they tried desperately to swallow the lump in their throat.
The weight of the newfound truth made their knees buckle as they struggled not to fall to the floor and break down into tears. Fear tugging at their mind and thoughts, sending them into complete disarray, rendering any attempts to focus futile. The last words they heard echoed in their mind, they murmured them unbeknownst to themselves, “Basement 57.”
With fear lingering at the edge of their consciousness, striving to break in and consume them whole. They wanted to give in to the basic survival instinct and flee, yet a passage from the book they had just read in class surfaced in their 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 their mind like a roar of thunder, flushing away the fear of the dark wizard.
If it truly was their 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 their body still trembled and knees still shook. Their focused gaze examined the mirror. They weren’t quite sure how they’d break the spell just yet, but they knew that they needed to rescue their sister.
The Awakening
When they reopened their eyes, they were 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, they awoke about a minute too soon.
Arin glared at the professor.
“Professor Romal. Yes, I am…” their 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,” they lied; their 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,” they gasped and then gulped, feeling the weight of his gaze upon them as if trying to perceive their thoughts. Trying not to flinch or look away, they 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?”
“Beautiful in parts, terrifying in others. I met plenty,” they lied, “one even taught me how to wake from the sleep chant, hence why I’m here.”
Professor Romal tilted his head to the side, eyeing them curiously, “An easter egg left by one of the other professors, surely. Fascinating, alternative way to pass the exam,” he grinned widely.
“Though don’t expect the actual exam to be so easy, the world will be mostly the same. However things are going to be different, and the exam will last a while longer.”
“Certainly,” they nodded and got up slowly.
“It was an invaluable experience.”
“Glad to hear. You may return to your seat,” he stepped aside, giving Arin space to leave.
As they walked past him and after getting halfway through the aisle toward their chair, they finally exhaled, trying desperately not to let their concerns show.
When the class came to an end, they were faced with a choice of what to do next.
A Trip To The Library
Just as Kira got up to leave upon packing her belongings, Arin reached out and grabbed Kira’s robes.
“Hmm? What’s up?”
Kira pondered.
“Wait… don’t go, I… Come with me?”
Arin asked in a hushed tone, hesitance obvious in their voice.
“Uhm, where to?”
Kira queries curiously.
“Shhh, tell you later,” Arin hushed her in a whispering tone after noticing the professor’s gaze upon them, “To my place! I wanna show you the new tomes my mother recently bought!”
Arin grinned.
“Ohhhkay, sure.”
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 them, they 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 their voice.
“And what is that?”
Arin looked Kira in the eyes, their wary gaze was filled with fright.
“Professor Romal’s… erhm… truth about him, well… maybe.”
“What does that even mean!?”
“His name is Maglamor Helin, or… at least so I suspect from what I saw… I was in a palace, a dwelling, that is apparently a floor in the Grand Library…” they began explaining and then continued to give the details of the things they had seen in the room. As they walked, the story continued…
“No way…”
Kira remarked at last, in disbelief.
“It’s what I saw…”
Arin shrugged.
“So, I’m going there to confirm it now. Are you with?”
“That’s… Arin, I’m your closest friend, of course I’m coming with you. No way I’m gonna let you rummage through some potential dark wizard’s room on your own!”
“Hah, you just wanna steal some trinket,” Arin jokes.
“I mean, sounds like a bonus, maybe a cursed object or something. Oooohhh, enticing.”
“Please don’t ever change.”
And so the two made their way to the library. The halls of the Grand Library were as mesmerizing as ever. Its tower-like structure never ceased to amuse Arin and steal their breath.
Looking up and seeing hundreds of floors, and clouds is not only an indescribable scene, it’s a magical feeling.
The Grand Library is called so for a reason, it is a whole world, a pocket dimension that exists within a tower that from the outside, well, is still pretty indescribable. The human mind is exceptionally good at filtering out things it cannot comprehend, and does not wish to perceive. When normal humans look at the Grand Library’s tower, they simply see a tower that only occasionally appears to stretch out into the clouds and far beyond them. Occasionally it rubberbands around, sometimes seemingly fades from existence and other times shrinks to imperceivable size.
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 them straight into the hallway from the dream world.
“It’s… the same,” Arin uttered under their 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 their 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. Their 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’.”
Their voice wavered, afraid to confirm their 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…”
As Arin reached for the door’s handle they realized their 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 their 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, their eyes focused in on the mirror. They swallowed hard, their stomach turned as their instincts battled reason, trying to persuade them that fleeing was the better choice.
“That’s it. That’s where she is,” Arin said, bobbing their head at a black mirror in the back of the room.
“Who, again?”
Kira asked in a hushed tone.
“Kaelith… my sister,” Arin responded.
Kira let out a nervous half laugh, “Hah, 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. Their steps were light, but hasty and filled with urgency. Each step Arin took made their heart pound in their ears, deafening almost all other sounds.
Arin placed their hand on the mirror. Its smooth, cold surface sent a chill through their body, much like in the dream world. They 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 their 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 them. Silent but unmistakable; the voice was soft and familiar.
“The mirror…”
“Right,” Arin muttered, shaking their head to clear the fog that seemed to thicken with every moment spent in this room. They 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 their 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 they 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 their 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. Their 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 they walked back toward the black, reflectionless mirror with the small one in their 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.”
They gestured, glancing at Kira pacing back and forth. For a moment Arin felt like a spectator at an exceptionally aggressive tennis match, they could feel the tension building up in their 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 their attention to the big mirror. It loomed silently, its smooth, black, and reflectionless surface made Arin feel as uneasy as the first time they had seen it. They swallowed hard, “How about we…” they began.
“Wait!”
Kira shouted, interrupting them.
“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 their 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 their hand out.
“Give.”
Arin handed the small mirror over to Kira and made their 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 their eyes. They 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 their 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 their 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 their 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.
“Charging a powerful blast,” Kaelith said without breaking her focus.
“Step back, and form a magic barrier, this will be a big one.”
Kira glanced at Arin who was rapidly retreating without a moment of hesitation. She assumed a position next to their and prepared a barrier spell.
“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 their 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 their 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 their 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…”
“Leave him here for all of eternity, forgotten.”
As Kaelith lowered the mirror down, along with herself and Arin, Kira emerged from behind a pillar.
“Well, that was, uh, exciting… You two make a banger of a team!”
Kaelith ignored her remark, turning to begin chanting and preparing the teleportation spell.
Arin glanced at the mirror, “Y…yeah… I just hope he will remain here for all of eternity.”
Kaelith placed her hand on the mirror, her expression solemn, “Ready to forget him?”
Both Arin and Kira turned to her, eyes wide in shock.
“Is that how that works?”
Arin asked.
Kaelith nodded, her voice calm and almost teacher-esque.
“It’s the second part of the seal spell. Part one – seal the person. Part two – activate the enchanted mirror and force all in the world to forget the person ever existed. That is the power this mirror holds. An incredibly rare and mighty artifact.”
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?”
Arin pointed out with a sassy look on their face.
Kira furrowed her brows for a moment, “Dawh… erhm, capturers? Evil wizard hunters?”
“Neither,” Arin murmured, looking tired and done with this adventure, “Let’s just get out of here…”
Kaelith nodded, uttering something under her breath. Memories of Maglamor Helin, or as most knew him – Professor Romal, have ceased to exist.
Kira pondered for a moment, as they both approached Kaelith, “Can I grab that small creepy mirror before we leave? I… kinda want it.”
“No!”
Kaelith and Arin shouted in unison as if singing a well-practiced verse in a choir.
Kira gasped, clutching her chest like she’d just been betrayed.
“Ah! My… my heart! Fine. You two are such party poopers… It’s like you don’t even appreciate cursed, evil artifacts!”
Maglamor faded from existence. Neither Professor Romal nor Maglamor Helin shall ever be remembered or called by name. His chambers eventually became lost to time. Another floor in the Grand Library to be re-explored and reclaimed in due time.
– The End –
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