Page 56 of A Taste of Silver
"You know nothing?—"
"I know enough." The ghost-melody swelled, and I began to understand its true purpose. Not to break down barriers, but to transform them. To make walls into doors, prisons into passages, separation into connection. "And I know you're afraid."
"Afraid?" The darkness writhed. "Of a child who can barely control her own power?"
"Afraid of what happens when I do control it." I met those crimson wounds that served as eyes. "Afraid of what happens when someone completes a binding properly, with trust instead of hunger, love instead of possession."
The chamber filled with harmonics, the Awakening Chord, the ghost-melody, and something new. A sound that came from Silvyr's mirrors and mine, resonating together across impossible distance.
"Aurea!" Silvyr's voice cut through the harmonics, urgent and sharp. "The guards, they're changing shifts throughout the palace. You need to return now."
The warning sliced through my concentration. The ghost-melody faltered, and the Crimson One's darkness surged forward, sensing weakness.
"Running already?" The corrupted entity's voice dripped mockery. "How very like a Mirrorwalker. All threats and no staying power."
I wanted to respond, to push back with the full force of the awakening magic in my blood, but Silvyr was right. Through themirrors' network, I could feel the movement above us, guards marching in formation, their routes changing, converging toward the hidden passages.
"Go," Vaen urged, his reflection growing more translucent. "If they find you here with us, withit, they'll never let you leave the palace alive."
"This isn't over," I told the Crimson One, backing toward the passage entrance where Nira waited, her face pale with fear.
"No," the darkness agreed, coiling back into the spaces between reflections. "It's just beginning. Every mirror you pass, every reflection you glimpse, I'll be there. Waiting. Watching. Growing stronger on your doubt."
The ghost-melody rose one final time, not from me but from Silvyr. His multiple reflections moved in perfect synchronization, weaving a barrier of starlight and serpent scales between the Crimson One and our retreat.
"Move!" Nira grabbed my arm, pulling me into the passage. "They're already checking the servant corridors."
We ran. My bare feet slapped against cold stone, the silver marks on my arms providing our only light. Behind us, I could hear the Mirror Chamber's harmonics shifting, becoming discordant as the Crimson One tested Silvyr's barrier.
Up the spiraling stairs, through passages that seemed narrower than before. My nightgown caught on rough stone, tearing. Nira moved with desperate efficiency, her knowledge of the palace's secret ways our only advantage.
"Here," she gasped, pressing a section of wall. It swung open into my guest chambers but somewhere near them. "You'll have to go the rest alone. If they see me outside the servants' quarters at this hour?—"
"Thank you," I managed between gasps for breath.
She squeezed my hand once, then vanished back into the hidden passage. The wall sealed behind her with barely a whisper.
Melora stood by the window, her shoulders rigid with tension. She spun at my entrance, relief flooding her face before being replaced by fresh worry.
"Thank the old gods," she breathed. "When the guards came to check and found you gone I told them you were in the water closet, but they'll return soon."
"How long?"
"Minutes, maybe less." She crossed to me quickly, taking in my torn nightgown, my bare feet, the silver marks now glowing visibly through the fabric. "Child, what happened? The mirrors throughout the palace went mad for a moment… singing, screaming, then silence."
"The Crimson One." The name made her flinch. "He's here, in the mirrors. And Vaen. Vaen's alive. He’s trapped between realms like Silvyr but different."
Melora's face went white. "Your brother? That's impossible. The records?—"
"The records lie." Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. Multiple sets, approaching fast. "Help me. Please."
Without hesitation, Melora grabbed a clean nightgown from the wardrobe, practically tearing the ruined one off me. The silver marks blazed along my arms, impossible to hide, but she wrapped a sleeping shawl around my shoulders, arranging it to look natural while covering the worst of the glow.
"Into bed," she commanded, pushing me toward it. "You're ill, fevered. That's why you look distressed."
I collapsed onto the mattress just as the door opened without knock or warning. Three guards entered, led by the captain from before. His eyes swept the room, taking in every detail.
"Lady Solis," he said formally. "We're conducting security sweeps. There was a... disturbance in the lower levels."
