Chapter 10: Glass Reflections
Inside the Illusory Mirror House, the laughter of children echoed in strange, scattered notes. Reflections twisted across mirrored walls—some brighter than they should've been, others too slow to mimic the real movements. The shifting glass panes occasionally shimmered with a faint, unnatural light, like moonlight on oil.
Zaara crept forward, her fingers brushing along a cool, translucent wall. Her reflection beside her smirked before she did. She frowned. "That's not right," she whispered to herself, but curiosity overruled her caution. She was trying to understand the pattern of shifting mirrors.
Meanwhile, outside the barrier, Ravi's brows remained furrowed. He hadn't moved an inch since Zaara entered. The soft ripple of rain tapping against the dome reminded him of a drumbeat—slow and warning.
Zirak, too, stood still. But his eyes weren't on the mirror house anymore. They scanned the surrounding tents and lamplight-covered stalls beyond the aqua dome. A subtle pressure tingled at the edge of his awareness.
"We're being watched," Zirak muttered, barely audible.
Ravi's fingers instinctively brushed the hilt of his side-blade. "Order of Cards?"
"No," Zirak said grimly. "Too soon. They wouldn't return with this little preparation. This is someone else."
A soft giggle came from inside the mirror house. Zaara had found one of the treasure chests tucked into a corner—a wooden box with a tiny carved griffin on the lid. As she opened it, confetti burst out, and a stuffed chimera doll flopped into her arms. She squealed with joy, holding it high.
But behind her, a shimmer passed through the mirrors—a shape that hadn't been there a moment ago. A tall silhouette, too tall to be a child. No sound, no footsteps, just an afterimage of motion.
Ravi's voice rang out sharply, "Zaara! Come out now!"
The middle-aged man at the counter looked confused. "Is something wrong?"
Zirak didn't answer. He had already moved—too quickly for the eye to track. In a blink, he stood at the threshold of the mirror house, hand raised. White threads of essence spiralled up his arm as he muttered a brief incantation. The barrier that separated spectators from the maze shimmered and blinked out.
Inside, Zaara turned around, sensing something wrong. Her gaze landed on the figure in the mirror—a tall, robed person with no face. Only a mask of polished silver reflected her own image back at her. She gasped.
The figure stepped forward, and the mirrors bent around it as if refusing to show its full form. Zaara stumbled back, clutching her chimera toy tightly. She opened her mouth to scream, but the figure raised a hand, and no sound came out. Silence fell like a hammer.
But then, a flash of white broke the stillness—Ravi was already inside, slicing through a maze wall that shimmered and cracked apart. "Zaara, move!" he shouted. Essence burned around his blade as he rushed through the unstable passageways, glass bending away like mist before him.
Zirak entered from another side, not destroying but bending the maze with precise control, causing walls to fold inward. The masked figure turned its head toward them, then toward Zaara, calculating.
Zaara felt a strange pulse in her chest. Not fear—something deeper. Her hands began to glow faintly, and the chimera toy in her grasp suddenly twitched. A spark of violet energy arced from her palm into the toy. It roared.
Not a cute, childlike growl, but a real snarl—echoing, primal. The doll shimmered, growing, its stitched mouth widening into a maw lined with glowing thread-teeth. Zaara blinked, stunned at what had just happened.
The chimera lunged forward with uncanny speed, knocking the masked figure back against a mirrored wall. Cracks spidered out.
"Zaara, stay behind me!" Ravi yelled, reaching her at last and pulling her close.
Zirak's voice came like thunder, reciting a sealing chant in Old Vemari. The figure thrashed, the silver mask slipping slightly, revealing—not a face, but a swirling void beneath. No skin, no eyes—just swirling darkness.
The final word of the chant landed, and the mirror behind the figure erupted in a pillar of ghostly blue flame. The figure twisted once more—then vanished into smoke, sucked into a tear in the glass.
Silence fell again. Only the soft tinkling of broken mirror shards hitting the floor remained.
Zaara clutched Ravi tightly, her heart pounding. "What was that thing?" she whispered.
Ravi looked to Zirak.
The older man exhaled, finally lowering his hands. "That wasn't part of the maze. That … was a Looking Phantom. A creature made up of memories but tainted with madness. They appeared after the events of the Fifth Great World War. They're rare. And they shouldn't be here."
Zaara stared at the chimera toy in her arms. Its eyes still glowed faintly.
Zirak noticed. "Zaara," he said softly. "What did you do to that doll?"
"I … I didn't mean to. I was scared. I just wanted it to protect me."
Ravi met Zirak's gaze. "Her real aspect is awakening."
Zirak nodded slowly, deeply troubled. "More than that. It was instinctual. Not taught, not triggered by essence technique. She shaped her intent into a construct using raw feelings."
He turned to Zaara.
"That's not something even most adult warriors can do."