Page 30 of Wicked Prince of Mirrors
I kept my gaze trained on Lyra as I approached. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered.
Taking my hand she squeezed it. “I wanted to, but it wasn’t my story to tell.”
A protest rose but I swallowed it down, recalling that she’d told me as much as she could. Even she wasn’t aware of the full truth since Rydlin would not share his side of the story with her.
Hugging my arms around myself, I stared down at the tome. It was clearly an old book, the parchment faded, torn at some places. Whoever had illustrated it had taken care with the pictures, and the writing was a series of swirls, beautiful, yet clear to understand.
“These are the words of the great prophetess, Orielle,” Lyra explained. “She was the first to command Mirror Magic and find the mirrorverse, the barrier between worlds. It is said she still walks this world, appearing to those who need her wisdom, although she takes the appearance of a mortal.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “I’ve actually heard of her, but the records failed to mention her magic.”
“I imagine the histories of this kingdom have been wiped clean of magic,” Lyra said bitterly. “To force people to forget that magic existed and the kingdom benefited from it.”
I hummed in my throat but offered nothing more as I leaned over the book and read.
When king of monsters is released
When rule of royal blood has ceased
Mirror Magic will unite
Mortal and immortal alike
Ties that hold the beasts will break
One last breath, shall the king of shadows take
Ilifted my head, looking from Rydlin’s bald head, to Methrin’s shadowy figure and finally to Lyra who stood at my shoulder, repeating the words under her breath. “Thisis the prophecy?” I challenged.
The prose was beautiful but the meaning I took from the words was much different than the meaning Methrin had given me.
“If you read the rest of the book, it becomes clear,” Lyra said, waving her hands.
I stepped back, frustrated. “How do you know this will work? This prophecy could mean anything, it might have already happened for all we know. We can’t stake our fate on words in a book.”
“A wise statement,” Rydlin said. “The words should be used as a guide, not taken verbatim. Prophecies are ever shifting and the original meaning is often lost. I did what I believed was best in the past, and it came to nothing. Now is the opportunity to try again. Just because we don’t understand something doesn’t mean we should pause and do nothing. We need to try, to find a way to change the fate of our world.”
I faced him, since he still held secrets and Methrinhad revealed most of his. “What do you know about the monster that supposedly haunts this realm?”
Rydlin made a sound in his throat, his face turning a shade of crimson. “Ah, my dear, I have seen this . . . terror. I will show you.”
As he walked toward the concave walls his body stooped as though he carried a heavy weight. He took a scroll and unfastened the seal that protected it before bringing it to the pedestal. As he unfurled it my heart kicked and for a moment it was impossible to breathe.
A nightmarish memory bloomed.
I walked the wood with my mother, she held my hand so tightly it hurt my little fingers, and she moved quickly murmuring about the mist that would swallow the wood in darkness. Little white flowers with heads like bells poked up from the moss, calling me to stop and pick them. Finally, I tore free from mother’s grip and collected three of the flowers, but the moment I picked them the blossoms turned to ash. A wail left my throat as the soot drifted from my open palm.
My mistake became clear when I felt a presence hovering. When I squinted, peering deeper into the wood, a curtain of blackness enveloped my world. The monster was there, one inky swirl of shadows and death. The scent of decay impregnated the air and red eyes, glowing like coals, stared down at me with malice.
Mother screamed and threw herself between me and the beast. There came a flash of silver and then her wild cry. “Take my soul, not hers. I will come willingly.”
Not long after she disappeared.
My eyes went wet as I stared at the scroll, trapped in the throes of that memory. It was so terrifying I’dbanished it, although sometimes it crept into the edges of my mind, a dark memory, haunting me.
A shadow beast covered the scroll, it was a formless monster, nothing but a shadow, a void, ribbons of darkness surrounded it. Floating in the middle where a head might be were red eyes, an open maw. No, not beast but monster, a thing that came from the dark, from the silent places under the soil, a void spat forth from the underworld, if such a place existed. Was this the monster that roamed the woods near the palace, seeking victims willing to sacrifice themselves to darkness?
“What is it?” I demanded, unable to keep the tremor out of my voice. “What does it want?”
