The Crow Behind the Mirror_Book One of the Mirror Wars

by Sean M. Hogan

  “So, he’s in his spiritual body?” Sharon asked. Like the crow…

  “Precisely, no ordinary human body could handle this much magic.” Baba glared at the fallen satyr. “Though I’d say he is a mere eighty percent transformed. I fished him out before he could completely become his spiritual animal. A goat in his case I’m guessing.”

  “No, like me and that boy,” Sharon whispered quietly to herself, ignoring Baba’s words and losing herself in thought as she looked back at her wings. “What exactly is the ritual?”

  “A summoning spell, of course. The circle is the symbol used for summoning.”

  “Summoning what?”

  “Magic. The soul. And beings of great power. The circles are doorways from which magic can freely flow from point A to point B. Much like the mirrors themselves. But the biggest difference between my ritual and those of the Mirror Guardians is that mine is not complete.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A complete ritual requires two circles,” replied Baba, holding up two boney fingers. “Without this extra circle, there is no outlet for the magic to flow into. The magic simply has nowhere to go so it remains in the blood, making it easier to consume.” She stretched out her mouth to inhuman proportions, unhinging her lower jaw like a snake.

  Sharon stared back in horror, her body frozen with indescribable terror.

  Baba picked up the Satyr and shoved it head first into her gaping jaws.

  Bones cracked and crunched.

  Sharon gagged and dry heaved on her cage floor.

  After a few carefully positioned bites the satyr slid down Baba’s throat, maneuvered in like an alligator’s dinner. A trickle of glowing blue blood descended from her lips. She wiped her mouth clean with a brush of her forearm. She relaxed her jaw to its normal position and turned to Sharon.

  “Next,” Baba said with a contorted grin and a protruding belly full of meat.

  ***

  Moki peered through the climbing mist toward the lit cave. His yellow eyes blinked in and out of the darkness of the forest. A sheering sensation of dread filled his small wooden frame.

  “Is she inside?” A deep, leathery voice thundered out from behind the veil of shadows. “The one from my dream?”

  “Yes, my King,” answered Moki. “But Baba is in there with her. The god of darkness. Retrieving her will not be easy.”

  “Leave Baba to me.”

  Moki gazed at the night sky. Dark clouds gathered. The wind picked up. Rain sprinkled down. “A storm is coming.”

  Lightning struck. Thunder roared.

  A gray wolf stalked into the moonlight and rose from all fours to stand upon two legs. A werewolf stepped to Moki’s side. “I think it’s time for a reunion of gods and monsters.”

  ***

  Sharon screamed as she struggled against the two chimera slaves. She fought back like a wild animal, kicking, punching, and even biting as they removed her from her cage.

  “Bind her,” shouted Baba.

  The two chimera slaves obeyed her orders, subduing Sharon with rope, tying her wrists and ankles together. They dragged her to the circle of stones and threw her down.

  “You’ll never find the unicorn without me,” gasped Sharon.

  Baba scoffed as she uncorked her gourd. “Unfortunately for you, I’ve decided not to believe the fantastical ramblings of a little girl. Besides, you smell far too delicious.” She scooped up a lock of Sharon’s hair and ran her fingers through the strands, lifting them to her nose and inhaling the fragrance with drool-inducing hunger. “It’s hard to think rationally. I just must have a taste.”

  Sharon spat in Baba’s face. “Monster.”

  “Open your mouth.”

  Sharon clenched her jaw shut in defiance.

  The eagle-headed chimera grabbed Sharon’s face and forced her mouth open.

  Baba shoved the opening of the gourd into her mouth and tilted.

  “Baba,” a voice cut in with a lightning strike and echoed with the thunder.

  Baba spun at the sound of her name.

  A figure stood at the mouth of her cave, shrouded in darkness.

  She bared her teeth. “Only three souls outside this cave know that name, my name. Three god-kings.”

  “Let her go, Baba. She doesn’t belong to you. You have no claim here.”

  “And you do?” asked Baba, inching up one eyebrow. “Under whose authority?”

  “Mine.” A werewolf stepped into the light. His black claws, gray bristled fur, and long polished white teeth exposed. “The authority of the god of the Kingdom of Heaven.”

  “You’re too late, Gabriel,” said Baba as she grabbed hold of Sharon’s mouth and poured the potion down her throat.

  Sharon choked, spitting up much of the liquid, but she couldn’t fight gravity and the potion trickled down her throat.

  Baba let go a twisted, crackling laugh.

  The blue light filled Sharon’s body. The light spread from her stomach to the tips of her fingers and toes. She clawed at her chest, her heartbeat growing wilder.

  “Old hag,” Gabriel roared in protest.

  He leaped into the air and fell on all fours a few feet from Baba. His upper lip peeled back and the fur atop his snout shriveled, revealing his fangs. His breath panted out in hot puffs of white exhale.

  Baba stumbled backward and her chimera slaves cowered behind her.

  Gabriel’s shoulder blades protruded beneath his fur as he lurched forward in a predatory stalk, his two ice-blue eyes piercing through the shadows like daggers stabbing out Baba’s shrinking frame.

  “Don’t glare at me, god of rain clouds,” Baba mocked to hide her fear as she retreated. “We both know you swore off shedding blood long ago. You can’t kill me. Your honor won’t permit it. So, save the theatrics—pacifist. There’s nothing you can do to save her now.”

  “I will do what must be done,” said Gabriel with a growl. “Even if I must forsake my oath and my humanity once more.”

  “You’re bluffing...”

  Gabriel quickened his pace, taking two steps forward for every one Baba took back.

  Baba retreated to Sharon’s side. A pulsing light drew her line of sight to her.

  Sharon screamed. Her soul’s energy overflowed, radiating from her body like an erupting volcano. A pillar of light shot up from her body, piercing the cave ceiling and the night sky. The light stretched into the heavens like an endless climbing searchlight.

  A shockwave rippled out, knocking everyone to the floor.

  Sharon spread her wings and levitated into the air, the wind swirling violently around her. Her glowing eyes pierced through the blue aura that engulfed her like a shroud of flames.

  “The Oracle was right.” Gabriel stared back in awe. “At last, she has come.”

  Baba gasped as she shielded her eyes with her forearm. “Impossible… no mere human could possess this much magic.” Her eyes widened with fear. “Unless…”

  Sharon set her sights on Baba and bellowed out a roaring cry.

  The ground shook furiously with a rumbling quake.

  The cave ceiling collapsed. Falling rocks and stones tumbled down, crushing the two chimera slaves and the other animals in their cages.

  Baba was entombed by heavy boulders. Her screams suffocated out.

  Gabriel evaded the falling rocks and dove for Sharon, snatching her out of the air. He landed with her in his arms and dashed for the mouth of the cave, making it out without a second to spare.

  The mountain caved in on itself, leaving behind a cloud of dust.

  ***

  Moki ran up to Gabriel. “Did you get her?”

  “Yes,” said Gabriel, opening his arms and revealing Sharon curled up and resting against his chest.

  Sharon mumbled to herself in a half-delirious dream-like state as the blue in her skin faded away. “Ugh… my head hurts… what—”

  “Hang in there, Sharon,” Moki said, taking hold of her hand.

  She stirred. “Is tha
t you, Moki? I can’t tell…” She rubbed her eyes. “Everything’s blurry… the colors keep blending together again. Where am I?”

  “Somewhere safe.” He turned to Gabriel. “We need to get her to Sofiel.” He tugged at her wings. “She will know how to reverse her transformation.”

  “Of course,” said Gabriel. “I’ll lead the way.”

  Moki gazed back at the rubble and the rising cloud of dust and frowned. “We have to hurry. Someone is coming.”

  “Who?” Sharon asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Moki. “But whoever it is… their thoughts are bad. Very bad.”

  The trio disappeared into the forest.

  ***

  The dust cleared. Baba’s hand stuck out of a pile of rocks like some twisted weed. Her fingers twitched and curled into a fist. She clawed her way out, chewing through the rock the way termites ravage through fallen tree limbs, and yanked her old decrepit feet free. She had just finished hacking out the dust from her lungs when the shadow crept over her.

  “It must be humiliating,” said a dark, distorted voice. “A god reduced to her knees. Reduced to hide away in this pathetic human form.”

  Baba gnashed her teeth and gazed up at the astral projection of the Cloaked Man.

  “Because of your foolish pride, you underestimated her power. You thought her ordinary but I assure you—she is nothing but,” said the Cloaked Man, his glowing red eyes fixed on Baba. “Not the kind of mistake I would expect from a creature as old as you.”

  Baba stretched her mouth open, exposing her rows of teeth. She focused on the red crystal hanging from his neck. “And what would a mere Mirror Guardian know about me?”

  “I know everything about you, Baba.”

  The dust and dirt around them changed shape and color, swirling and circling them like an eye of a tornado. They were engulfed in a cloak of thousands of vibrant colors.

  “And I’m afraid I haven’t been a mere Mirror Guardian for a very long time.”

  Finally, the tornado of color opened, unraveling to a pink sky blanketed with winged beasts. Hundreds, thousands of dragons. The dragons’ cries and shrieks echoed across an ancient desert and a blazing sun. The sight shook Baba to her core. Her mouth hung open like a dead fish.

  “Once upon a time,” said the Cloaked Man, “there were dragons. Dream Eaters. Born of the Dreamtime and made flesh by the great Ordin himself.”

  Shadows of the winged dragons slithered across the desert like legions of serpents through mud. They devoured the light where ever their personal darkness touched.

  “They ruled the heavens and Tuat alike, becoming the protectors of the Sacred Forest and the Tree of Life, the last seedling of Nirva. They feasted on dreams and nightmares, grew fat with light, and multiplied in the darkness. All was good. That is until the unicorns appeared.”

  An entire forest spouted around Baba, ripping through the ground and blotting out the sun. A herd of unicorns ran past her—darting between trees and ducking under the protection of the forest canopy.

  “Once the first dragon tasted the magical blood of a unicorn—all was lost. The dragons lost their taste for mere dreams and hungered for magic. They grew large. To the size of mountains.”

  The unicorns kicked and bellowed horrid cries. A wall of fire roared before them, blocking their path and encasing them in cages of multicolored flames. The dragons took turns swooping down, diving in like eagles, their talons stretched with flames leaking from their jaws and curved teeth.

  “Unfortunately, Tuat is a dry desert world filled with very little life. As the great herds of unicorns went extinct so too did the dragons. They had long since forgotten how to eat dreams and became far too large to adapt and sustain themselves on the meager flesh of the living. The dragons were at an evolutionary dead end.”

  The herds of unicorns faded away into the shadows, dying like candles reaching the end of their wicks. Their light snuffed out. Devoured by darkness. But one light remained—slashing the darkness with a flaming sword, a golden spiraled horn of pure energy.

  “But this story has yet to find its ending.”

  Baba peered between the towering trees and into the light as it gained shape and form. The silhouette of light sculpted itself into the figure of a woman.

  “Impossible,” said Baba. “No human could survive for long with the unicorn as their spiritual body. They would have the opposite problem as me.”

  “Ah, but Sharon’s words were the truth. It seems one unicorn did survive. Much how you have done. Hiding away in your spirit animal form. The vilest animal alive. Man.”

  The wind picked up, swirling around them and consuming them like a hungry twister. The wind died to a calm breeze. The world returned to normal.

  “Now I think it’s time we end this story of the first dragon and the last unicorn.” He stretched out his hand and relaxed his fist. A red glow glimmered through the cracks of his fingers as they opened like dying weeds, the pulsing light so intense it was if he had plucked out the very heart of the devil himself.

  Her eyes widened as the red light came alive.

  A small red impish creature emerged—birthed from hellfire—stretching its tiny wings and gazing down at Baba with spider eyes. It squinted at her before baring its tiny needle teeth in a horrible gesture of fear and hate.

  Baba hissed at the fairy. Her apathy swallowed up by her hunger.

  “Find her,” commanded the Cloaked Man. “Find the unicorn. Find the woman she resides within. Read her thoughts and sniff her out.”

  The red fairy took to the sky and darted into the forest, clicking and chirping. It swayed back and forth like a dancing star, leaving a trail of streaking light in its wake.

  “What are you waiting for?” he asked, glancing Baba’s way. “If you ever want to return to your former self again—all you have to do is follow the bouncing glowing ball.”

  CHAPTER 20

  The Demon of the North

  “THE BOY’S SKIN and eyes were black as oil but his blood flowed as red as my own.”

  A tiny porcelain ballerina in a purple dress spun to the clicking and chirping tune of the music box.

  “I carried his frail broken body in my arms for four hours at least—trying to understand.”

  Snow beat down against the stagecoach. The horses rode on, panting white heaps of breath.

  “But no understanding came. And in the absence of understanding… I lost my faith.”

  The soldiers clung to their coats and huddled for warmth. Their beards as white as snow.

  “But the question still remained. Why guide and shepherd the lost when all paths lead to slaughter?”

  A blue crystal hung from a silver chain, glistening with the dying light of winter.

  “The meek inherit nothing. The wicked reap what the innocent and kind sow and the good are rewarded only with the gnashing of teeth. The world is not what it was meant to be.”

  Two eyes, one blue and one green, opened and gazed down at the painted dancing figurine. The woman smiled.

  “What is the point of remaining a Mirror Guardian when you cannot even guard your own people—your flock—from themselves?”

  A man with a weathered wrinkled face stroked his beard and straightened his crown.

  “They call me a demon. They say I am a butcher, a conqueror without a heart and soul. Some even say I am death incarnate. Perhaps they are right.” The old king peered through the frostbitten window but nothing outside was visible. “But I ask you, my beloved, who else? Who else could have made that sacrifice? Who else could have carried this burden?”

  He pressed his hand against the glass. Ice crystals formed on the other side. They spread out from his fingers like blue blood filling the translucent veins of a flower. He wiped the frost from the glass in a single stroke.

  Outside a dim sun shone through a gray sky brimming full of murky clouds. Ice and snow blanketed the countryside as far as the eye could see.

  The old king sighed an exhale of w
hite breath. “How could you leave us? How could you leave me? I am nothing without you.”

  “You’re mumbling to yourself again, Father,” said the young woman as she stirred from her sleep. Long curling locks of golden blonde hair framed her face. But it was her eyes that made her unique, her right eye was an emerald green and her left eye was as blue as an ocean. A simple genetic mutation that made her more than just beautiful. She was a rare gem in a sea of ash. “Daydreaming is bad manners, especially on my—”

  “—Happy birthday,” the old king said, handing the music box to her.

  She smiled. “Thank you, Daddy, it’s lovely.” She placed the music box on her lap and turned the key, winding up the porcelain dancer once more.

  “I know you’re getting a little old for toys. If it wasn’t for the food shortages and the recent riots, I’d have given you something more suiting of your age.”

  “Nonsense Daddy, I have more than enough dresses and jewelry as it is.”

  “I remember a time when you only wanted piggyback rides.”

  “Now that—I’m too old for.”

  “And how old are you again, Charlotte? I’ve seemed to have forgotten,” the old king teased.

  “Twenty-three,” said Charlotte, exaggerating a pout. “You know that.”

  “Twenty-three, that’s all? Well, it’s good to know you’re still not too old for tickles.” The old king reached in with wiggling fingers and tickled Charlotte’s stomach.

  She giggled and squirmed before shoving her father back. “Stop it. You’ll wake Ashley.”

  A girl, no older than thirteen, was fast asleep, slumping against her older sister’s shoulder. Her braided hair was a darker golden blonde and tied in countless pink ribbons and bows. And there was also drool dripping from her mouth.

  “Ewww, maybe we should,” said Charlotte, repositioning her younger sister’s head so the drool hit the floor and not her pink dress.

  “No,” said the old king. “Let your little sister sleep. She’s earned it. Growing up without ever knowing her mother is as harsh a burden as any—let alone to bear in a world so cold.”