Page 157 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
Caer stared out at the water.
“Should we be doing this?” Dillon asked. “I’m not sure I like the idea of anything so magical it had to bechangedrather than destroyed.”
“Unless they thought that one day someone might need to use its power for good…” Aislinn offered. “Magic is supposed to be neutral—it’s how we use it that defines us.”
Dillon did not look entirely convinced, but Beau and Minerva were both staring out at the lake, as if the curiosity was parching them.
Caer understood the feeling. Somehow, he needed this mirror returned to physical form.Neededit.
“Can we even put it back together?” Dillon asked, still sounding dubious. “Last I checked, we didn’t journey here with half a dozen fae sorcerers.”
Beau glanced at Aislinn, some silent conversation passing between the two of them.
“I’m no sorcerer,” she said.
“You’re the future queen of Faerie, Ais. You have access to powers others will only ever dream of.”
“But I’ve never done anything like this.”
“Me neither,” Beau admitted. “But I understand the theoretics. It’s magic. Almost anything is possible. And this mirror… itwantsto return to its natural state. I do not think it will require much of a nudge.”
Aislinn inhaled. “All right,” she said. “Let’s get the frame down.”
They dislodged the frame from its stand and the thorns around it, and took it onto the boat. Beau insisted on attempting the spell from the centre of the lake, hoping the natural circle would aid them. And, in any case, it would be harder to transport the Mirror all the way across the empty lake. Closer to the other side, at least the others could help them get it up again.
They rowed back towards the centre, taking it slowly, careful to avoid using too much of their magic. Aislinn was already conscious of how much she’d used today, and Beau much more—although his reserves were deeper. When they stopped, they took a few moments to meditate, and ate a couple of the hard, dwarven biscuits they’d stashed about their person. It gave the illusion of energy, if nothing else.
“Ready?” Beau asked her.
Aislinn nodded, taking his hands.
The effect was instantaneous. Beau’s hands latched onto her forearms, twisting into her flesh. His head snapped backwards. Hers did, too. She stared up at the ceiling, but somehow her gaze went elsewhere,everywhere—down to the bottom of the lake and everywhere else it touched.
The water pulsed beneath her. She could feel every atom of it, every particle. It surged around them, screaming, joining, tearing at their flesh though she knew it wasn’t even touching them. The water clawed through the air, spiralling around them, pooling into the frame sandwiched between their outstretched arms.
Aislinn wanted to break away, to grab her sword, to fight it. Her body burned beneath the strain. A scream rose inside her, but her jaw locked shut. She couldn’t move.
Don’t let go,Beau’s hold seemed to say.Whatever you do, don’t let go.
Did he have any control over this? Aislinn had expected todosomething, to be twisting the water into shape, but it felt like the other way round, like she was the one being twisted and torn, like the water was the one controlling her.
Controlling, and draining. It licked at her marrow like fire.
Stop. Stop, please—
Dimly, above the screeching of the water, she heard Caer screaming.
“Stop this! Stop it, it’s hurting her—”
But the water didn’t. Itcouldn’t.It needed to be whole again.
It whirled down into the frame, whistling and roaring, clicking together, a thousand, a million tiny black shards clicking together, transformed by the might of magic.
Finally, mercifully, it was over.
Aislinn fell backwards into Caer’s arms.
“Ais!” he called, voice coarse.
