The Crow Behind the Mirror_Book One of the Mirror Wars

by Sean M. Hogan

A body hung from a tree. The man swung motionless, his once bright and elegant shoes tarnished with mud. He must have been someone important.

  “They say she was a mother who lost her child to the bitter cold.”

  A perfect horrid symphony of men yelling, women screaming, and children crying filled the air.

  “That she knocked on every door in town for a simple blanket to keep her baby warm.”

  Just behind the swinging body, men rioted in the snow-covered street. Rotten fruit and dead bodies lay scattered along the road. A little girl sobbed over her mother’s corpse.

  “But they all refused.”

  A man tossed a lit Molotov cocktail through the window of an elegant hat store. Flames engulfed the store instantly.

  “So, in her grief and bitterness, she stopped Spring from coming.”

  The farther the distance from the city the worse it became, from a simple riot to a society at collapse.

  “They say she still comes to those who will listen, still begging for that blanket.”

  Buildings across the city caught fire. Their flames filled the air with red ash and smoke. The echo of musket fire spouted off like fireworks. A chorus of screams followed.

  “But men are rarely good listeners.”

  ***

  An orchestra played as people danced in a ballroom. Most were dressed in lavish clothes. They donned exquisite masks of animals, mythical creatures, and exaggerated faces of fairytale characters. A masquerade party of the wealthiest variety. The aristocrats mingled, gravitating to the garden outside to play games, gossip, and discuss the merits of fine art and the ways of politics. Most were intoxicated, walking the walk of drunkards, laughing the laugh of fools. High society at its lowest. Visible through the ballroom stain glass window, clouds of red ash. The screaming of villagers could still be heard faintly under the lighthearted melody of the orchestra’s instruments. Their world was truly separate from those outside the brick walls and iron gates.

  A child’s laughter carried through the air. A thirteen-year-old girl with strawberry blonde hair and an expensive flower dress chased a butterfly. A butterfly that dangled from a string on a stick held by one of the servants. The servant woman ran down the brown shrub maze with Ashley trailing after. She reminded her, now and then, not to dirty her bridesmaid dress, insisting it would be bad luck to do so on her big sister’s wedding day. Ashley ran up to her father and presented him with a yellow daisy.

  Asura, the old gray-bearded king, took the gift graciously and sent his daughter on her way before setting the flower down on the table next to a rifled musket. He picked up the gun and gestured to one of his servants to launch a clay disc into the air.

  He raised his musket, took aim, and fired.

  The clay disc exploded midflight, raining dust and bits of clay.

  The small victory did nothing to lift his spirits. He wasn’t in the celebrating mood. The old king traded his gun for a glass of champagne, taking tiny passionless sips. He let out a melancholy sigh and turned to face the man wearing a skull mask.

  Eric raised his skull mask from his lips and took a swig of champagne. Unlike the aging aristocrat, he savored his new taste of royalty with a smile, having traded in his beard and highwaymen garments for a clean-shaven face and some clothes more suited for royalty.

  “This world is devoid of any humor,” said Asura. “It’s been five hundred years since the great migration. Five hundred years and nothing’s changed. Elysium is still a wretched place. Soon everything will resemble a lifeless tomb.” The old king lifted the yellow daisy to his nose. “It’s been so long since I’ve smelled the sweet scent of spring flowers. I miss placing them behind my daughters’ ears. A world without flowers is a world I’ve grown too old for.” He tossed the daisy to the ground. It lay there unchanged, unbroken… perfect. A flower made of dyed paper. “But even a world devoid of humor still loves to play a few cruel jokes now and then.”

  Asura glanced back at Eric. He locked eyes with him for a wordless moment before breaking the uncomfortable silence. “I heard her again last night, the banshee.”

  Eric almost lost his mouth full of champagne. “Don’t tell me you actually believe in fairy tales, your Grace?” he asked, wiping a drizzle of champagne from his lips and setting aside his drink. “And here I thought the wealthy were above superstition.”

  Asura glanced away, lost in thought. “Every night it’s the same. She’s always crying.” He fixated on Ashley playing in the fake garden—full of paper flowers. She was so innocent, so happy. “Some people blame her for turning Elysium into a miserable place. I disagree. She just kept it cold. We’re the ones who made this world cruel.”

  Asura lifted his necklace out from under his shirt. A glowing blue crystal hung from the silver chain. He clenched his fist around the crystal, the light pouring out between the cracks of his fingers. “I thought I could change things by being more than just their Mirror Guardian. I thought as king I could sway them from their own wicked natures. I united all the warring tribes of the East and West, the South and North, and brought about lasting peace. But still, they sin.” Asura slid his crystal back down his shirt. “What a fool I was.”

  “Must you always be so depressing, Daddy?”

  Eric and Asura turned to the voice.

  Charlotte stood before them in an extravagant wedding dress, the right half of her face hidden under a lion party mask. The mask divided her unique pair of blue and green eyes, a simple genetic mutation that made her a rare gem in the eyes of her admirers. She gave her father an over exaggerated pout. “It’s my wedding day. The least you could do is pretend to be happy.”

  Eric shot a playful smirk her way. “Don’t be rude, Charlotte, my love. It’s a father’s duty to be sad on a day like this.”

  Charlotte stalked playfully over to Eric.

  He took her into his arms and kissed her with hunger.

  Asura observed the pair with unease, still not used to the sight of his daughter in the arms of another man. “No, she’s right. Newlyweds should be celebrating. Today is yours, never mind this old fool.”

  Charlotte broke free of Eric’s arms and kissed her father on the cheek.

  Asura returned her kiss before heading off to join his youngest daughter in the garden.

  ***

  Eric entered the palace with his bride at his side. They were greeted with applause and cheers. The newlyweds took a bow to appease their subjects. After twenty minutes of small talk and mingling, they grew tired and found a quiet corner in the ballroom for some privacy.

  Now alone with her new husband, Charlotte embraced him once more. “Please don’t tell me you actually believe in banshees and tormented ghosts of maidens—roaming about in the dead of night, too?”

  “So, you overheard,” said Eric. “No... Of course not. I don’t believe in anything.”

  “Not even true love?” She smirked teasingly up at him.

  Eric raised an eyebrow. “There’s no leap of faith required with you, my little gem.” He wrapped his arms around her hips and pulled her in. “But I’m curious. How would you explain this endless winter?”

  “Why with simple scientific observation, of course. The great star’s rotation around Elysium has extended for the time being. This, most likely, has happened before and we’re now in another one of its cycles—an age of ice if you will. Thankfully, everything comes in cycles. The seasons, the animals, and even the stars.” She nestled her head on Eric’s chest. “This will end. It’s just a matter of time, right my love?” Her eyes rose to meet his.

  Eric averted his gaze, silent in his response.

  The music changed tempo, an upbeat romantic melody filled the ballroom.

  He returned to her gaze, grabbing her arm and leading her to the dance floor. He rested one hand on her hip and with the other took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers.

  They danced, her white gown swaying to the music, lost in a timeless moment.

  “So?” Charlotte ask
ed finally.

  “So?” asked Eric.

  “So, did you make a wish?”

  “A wish?”

  “It’s customary for each newlywed to make a wish,” she said. “They say you should be careful, too. Because a wish made on this day is supposed to come true.”

  They stopped as they reached a water fountain in the middle of the room. Charlotte plucked out two gold coins from behind her dress sash.

  “More superstition?” he asked, observing her with curiosity as she approached the edge of the fountain.

  She closed her eyes and made her wish in silence. After a long beat, she opened her eyes and tossed a coin into the water. Turning to Eric, she placed the other coin into his hand.

  Eric stared into the fountain water and a human skull stared back. He tossed the coin in without thinking and glanced back at his bride. “So, what did you wish for?”

  “No,” she said playfully. “You’ll think I’m vain.”

  “It’s customary.” He mirrored her playful tone.

  Charlotte removed her mask and peered into the fountain water and her reflection stared back. “I want to keep my face like this—forever,” she said, feeling her flawless face with the tips of her fingers.

  “Growing old scares you?”

  “My mother died young. It’s why Father is always moping. Did you know he gave up everything to be with her? You see, marriage is forbidden for a Mirror Guardian.” Her smile carried warmth. “He loved her enough to forsake his own religion. Now that’s true love.” She pointed to a painting of her mother hung on the wall. They were strikingly similar, almost like a mirror’s reflection. The sole difference was in the eyes.

  “I can see why,” said Eric. “She’s gorgeous.”

  “My last memory of her is like that—perfect. That’s how I want to be remembered.” She turned to him. “So, what did you wish for?”

  “Charlotte,” Ashley called out to her sister from the garden. She waved her hands, beckoning Charlotte to come join her and their father in a party game.

  Charlotte hesitated to stray from Eric’s side.

  He smiled at her. “Go on,” he said, urging her with a nudge. “I’ll tell you later tonight.”

  They kissed one last time and she ran off, lifting up her dress so she wouldn’t trip on it.

  Eric turned to the fountain and gazed down at his reflection—gazed down at his mask of death—two golden coins resting behind his eyes. “Are you down there watching? I really wish you could see me now, Able. I’m winning. Though I suppose there’s not much of a view in Hell.”

  He snatched up a glass of champagne off a passing servant’s tray. He took a smug sip of his drink before pouring the rest into the fountain, his reflection slowly distorted by the rippling water.

  CHAPTER 24

  Beauty and the Beast

  THE STARS BURNED BRIGHT in the clear night sky. Joy stepped silently through the Sacred Forest, his image in the stream distorting and rippling with each carefully placed step. He spent the last day searching and now, embarrassingly, he was lost. The trees all looked the same and flying above the canopies wielded just a sea of endless green and a dark sky in all directions. Morning could not come soon enough. And to add insult to injury, flying was getting more and more difficult, mental fatigue from magic overuse was setting in. He was still far too inexperienced in the ways of the Dreamtime. Still so much his master had yet to teach him—still so much he withheld. There was no doubt about it. He was being played. The Cloaked Man’s appearance in the Dreamtime had proven it. Fortunately, Joy still had a few more tricks up his sleeve. He would get the last laugh. He just had to find Sharon first.

  A caw echoed out like a crack of lightning.

  Joy looked to the tree branch above.

  The crow glared down at him with unblinking ghost eyes.

  Joy’s grin widened. This phantom on black feathered wings was not who he was searching for but a wonderful find nonetheless.

  “Well, hello, old friend,” said Joy. “So, you’re the reason Sharon’s here. Nothing like a theory proven before your very eyes. It all makes sense now. Too bad it looks like you failed again.”

  A long blade pierced the shadows of the bushes and froze an inch from Joy’s throat.

  “A trap?” The blade mirrored the harsh moonlight forcing Joy to squint. “Did you lure me to this spot?”

  The crow took to the starlit sky, squawking a defiant protest.

  A figure stepped out from the underbrush. A knight in a shining suit of armor with long blonde hair and cold gray eyes.

  Joy’s eyes adjusted to the light as he focused on his captor.

  “Where is she?” asked Michelle.

  His eyes narrowed again. “Who?”

  “Don’t play dumb,” she said, backing him against a tree. “I know you have her.”

  “And how would you know a thing like that?”

  “A little piggy told me.” The moonlight reflected off her gray eyes. “Now it’s your turn to squeal.”

  “You’re too late. She has already transformed. It’s just a matter of time before—”

  Michelle pressed her sword against his throat. “I won’t ask a second time.”

  Joy’s grin was steadfast. “You’re wasting your time. I can’t feel pain or fear. I’ve evolved beyond them. I am an enlightened being.”

  “Enlightened or not, your blood will flow just as red as everyone else’s.”

  A trickle of Joy’s blood ran down the sharp steel as she applied more pressure.

  “The pain must be unbearable,” boomed a dark, distorted voice.

  Michelle spun around, meeting a red-tinted figure lurching toward her.

  The Cloaked Man stalked out from the darkness of the Sacred Forest like some hellish phantom guiding damned souls to their final resting place, their final bed of indistinguishable flames.

  “A life of solitude is the worst punishment a sinner can receive behind the gates of hell,” said the Cloaked Man.

  “Who the hell are you?” Michelle demanded, taking her blade from Joy’s throat and thrusting it the Cloaked Man’s way. “Stay back. I’m warning you.”

  He did not falter in his pace.

  Joy gave out a wicked laugh.

  Michelle’s frantic gaze darted between Joy and the Cloaked Man. She couldn’t let her eyes off either of them for a single moment.

  “I wonder what sin you committed to deserve such a tragedy,” said the Cloaked Man, “what blasphemy you uttered for God to abandon you so.”

  “What are you talking about?” She blasted her words at him.

  “I can’t imagine what it must have been like growing up without the love of your parents.”

  Her eyes lit up.

  Joy laughed even harder.

  “Their souls will never find rest as long as their murderer still lives,” he continued.

  The air around the Cloaked Man and Michelle erupted in a twister, engulfing them in glorious light.

  ***

  The sun hung low and large over the Sacred Forest, casting Sharon and Sofiel in amber morning light.

  “Yes,” said Sharon. “He was wearing a skull mask.”

  Sofiel sighed. “So, it’s as I feared. He’s still alive… The Prophet spared his life then.” She withdrew in thought, biting down on her thumbnail. “But why return now, after all these years? What has changed?”

  “If you know who he is—tell me,” Sharon said, growing impatient. “I have to know.”

  “He was once a Mirror Guardian like me, Sharon,” Sofiel said, holding out her blue crystal. “A great man whose missionary work was unparalleled. He left the order and chose to lead a different path from us. After bandits raided and slaughtered an indigenous tribe he was shepherding. The emotional turmoil of witnessing such a horror firsthand took a heavy toll on his faith. The last time I saw him... he was not the same man I once knew.”

  Sharon’s face was basked in the glow of blue light. “What do you mean—not the same?�
��

  “His mind had become twisted,” said Sofiel, brushing a lock of her silver hair behind her horse-like ear. “He adopted a masked persona and red cloak. Before your time, Sharon, this man with the skull mask and his apprentice, the one who called himself Fear, waged a war against the Mirror Guardians. They succeeded in assassinating our former Prophet by turning her daughter against her. All would have been lost, had not the current Prophet defeated them in battle. Till now, I assumed the man with the skull mask dead. But it seems the Prophet could not bring himself to kill him.”

  “He has returned but with a new apprentice this time,” Gabriel said, stepping into the morning light, his gray-white fur illuminated. “Perhaps for revenge? I fear for your safety, Teacher.”

  Sharon noticed Gabriel take Sofiel’s hand into his with tender affection.

  “Maybe you should revert back to your original form for the time being,” he said.

  Sofiel shook her head. “There is still much to be done—Gabriel—and I cannot hide from my duties here.”

  “He told me he brought me here to finish my father’s legacy,” Sharon said, interrupting their moment. “I can’t imagine whatever he plans on using me for will be pleasant for any of us.”

  “The role he kidnapped you for no longer matters,” said Sofiel.

  “Why do you say that?” asked Sharon.

  “Because after tonight I’m taking you home.”

  Sharon was ecstatic. “You have a mirror?”

  “Of course,” replied Sofiel. “What would a Mirror Guardian be without a mirror? It’s not very far from here, in fact.”

  “Then what are we waiting for? I’m ready to go now.”

  Sofiel just smiled at her.

  Sharon followed her line of sight down to her wings. “Oh, right.” Her shoulders slumped along with her wings. “Gonna be a little difficult hiding these from my mom.”

  “Don’t worry, Sharon, I will teach you how to control your spiritual form.”

  Sharon grabbed her hand and shook it. “I can’t thank you enough. You’re a real lifesaver.”