The Mirror's Lies

by naidam

Icilia Emerson only wished to spend a holiday with her family when she gets caught up in a vortex of inexplicable events. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a world where things she thought were surreal and fictional are, in fact, reality. But the more she tries to make sense of it, the more intertwined she becomes with the strange world and its events.

Do not conform to the pattern of this world,

but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.

Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is

⏤ his good, pleasing and perfect will.

-Romans 12:2

Krrr... Krrch.

Annoyed, I held my walkie-talkie as far away from my ear as possible. Then I pressed the little talk button and held the microphone to my mouth.

"Do you have to imitate those things? It's irritating enough that the walkie-talkies sound like that." Again the scratchy sound in my ear. I quickly brought it to within an arm's length. "How did you know it was me, Issy? Over." The bafflement was audible in my brother's voice, not even the spiky sound of the radio was able to hide that. Had he honestly thought I would buy that? Oh man, he really was a hopeless case. And his drama school was an even more hopeless one, if that was all he was learning there.

After another scratch, this time a real one, a gurgling laugh rang out. "Your performance is only half as convincing as you think it is, Josh." Holly's infectious laugh tinkled tinny through the walkie-talkie and the treacherous corners of my mouth twisted into a smile. Thank God they couldn't see that. I had made it my mission to remain the only reasonable one of our little group. Holly was every bit the equal of Joshua in her silliness, which was probably why they matched so well. But how they managed to tie their shoes alongside their amazingly creative word fights eluded me.

"You simply do not appreciate true art." A dramatic sigh followed. "When my name graces the Walk of Fame, you'll wish you had supported me. But by then I'll be dining with Sir Ian McKellen and Leonardo DiCaprio and won't give you a second glance. Over."

"Hear, hear!" interjected Holly, unable to suppress another giggle.

"Of course soon-to-be Sir Joshua Emerson, forgive my folly." So much for my role as the sensible one. I was probably as much of a lost cause as my brother and his fiancée. To hell with the good intentions of finally growing up.

Josh cleared his throat. "Back to our mission, agents. Protocol has documented the switches just behind the ledge, Issy and above the pillar, Holls. Over." I let my gaze roam over the walls. Behind a ledge ... what ledge, exactly? And why would there be a ledge in a monastery anyway? I pressed the button on my radio once more. "Who came up with the idea of playing Escape Room in a creepy old monastery again? I swear, if there's a monster about to come around the corner that …" Krchh . "I think that would be a little too cliché, Issy-Missy. Over."

"Don't say that! You'll conjure it up!" Holly's voice came from the speaker. She couldn't quite hide the slight dismay ⏤ she had always been a bit superstitious. But in that way that made her more endearing instead of wanting to scrutinise her with irritated stares.

I refocused my thoughts on finding that switch. It probably didn't even exist and we would wander the corridors forever until someone would pick us up. "We should hurry up. Mom and Theo will be waiting for us anyway," I reminded. Today would be the annual Álava Jazz Festival and seeing the Spanish province in a festive mood was not something I wanted to miss. The charming, open manner of the Spaniards attracted and fascinated me.

"Dad's been waiting for so long, he won't mind a few more hours. Over." Holly's reaction to Josh was an indignant snort, clearly audible after a brief krchh . "Oh, but think about the food. I'm determined to chow down on everything I can find today. I'll have to be on a diet again from tomorrow anyway, for real this time." As if she needed to.

Joshua replied something that sounded like: But no, Holls-Molls, you're beautiful just the way you are. Over, but I was already back to finding that darn switch. At least there were a few stones here, now. And with a lot of imagination I could interpret a ledge into it. Only I couldn't find a switch. I fumbled blindly along the rocks and carefully took one step in front of the other. It had to be somewhere …

In a flash, the ground was pulled out from under my feet, literally. My startled scream caught in my throat as I clung to my walkie-talkie as if it were a lifeline. My arms brushed against something sharp, causing a severe pain. With a dull thud, I hit the ground hard and the air was pressed out of my lungs. I gasped desperately for air, like a fish on dry land, hoping this twinge in my chest would finally stop. Krrr, Krchh. "Icilia, ar...st...there?" I could make out Holly's voice, but the signal was poor now.

I tried to take a few more deep breaths before reaching for the radio. "Yes," a cough interrupted me. "Yes, but the ground suddenly broke away. I -I have no idea where I am and my arm hurts...ow, it bloody hurts."

"I..y? ... poo ... und-sta ... . bad. O..r." The signal was indeed bad and that was bad for me. Very bad. Slowly, panic rose up in me. What if no one would find me down here? I would die a gruesome death of starvation and in the far distant future some excavation team would find my mummified corpse. Look at this. A female mummy. She must have died here when she was only in her mid-twenties, poor thing.

Jesus, calm down. Don't get hysterical.

And then I could feel it - a strange sensation under my skin, pulling me under a comforting warm blanket. My restless thoughts slowly dulled, like hearing voices underwater. Thinking underwater, so to speak.

Despite the cold stone I was kneeling on, I wasn't a cold and a distant song whispered in my ears, creeping from it into my arms and down to my fingertips. It sounded a little off-key, like wind chimes, but still quite beautiful to listen to. And so soothing. My senses blurred and drifted into a pleasant state of nothingness.

I sensed that this strange feeling should worry me, that I should wonder where this inner calm came from that I hadn't felt for so long. But at this moment it felt so familiar that I didn't waste a second thought on it.

With tingling fingertips, I clasped my arm and felt the wet blood under it. Oh, right, I had hurt myself during my fall. Probably slashed against the stone walls. As if from far away, I thought I heard Holly and Joshua's voices alternating - panicked and worried, if I wasn't mistaken. But I couldn't take my eyes off my bloody hand. How beautiful it looked. So perfect, so pure. My eyes were glued to my fingers as I brought them to my face and before I realised it, I had my index finger pressed to my lips. The metallic taste of blood made its way into my mouth, but a bittersweet aroma captured my attention. My blood began to boil and I wanted more. Whatever it was, I wanted more of it.

With uncoordinated movements I stood up. Caught by a sudden restlessness, I could no longer sit idly on that stone floor. I vibrated, trembled, shook. The air around me seemed to charge like it did before a thunderstorm, my senses went crazy, made me falter. I stumbled backwards and I felt myself crash into a hard and cold surface before it gave way beneath me.

---

The first thing I felt was exhaustion. And dizziness. Similar to when Josh had persuaded me into riding the "most harmless" ride at the amusement park, because it would surely be a lot of fun for me. The whole time I had felt like my guts were being thrown into a blender. I now had a similar amount of fun.

But one thing was definitely different: I was completely disoriented and couldn't make out a thing except for flickering lights through my eyelids and a deafening noise ... When I thought about it, the situation wasn't so different after all.

I mentally went through all the functions of my body to make sure I was still functioning as I should. One never knew ...

Moving fingers: check.

Stretching legs: check.

Tasting: check (if a little unappetising and strangely metallic).

Hearing: check (I had already noted the indefinable noise).

Smelling: ...

I wrinkled my nose (it worked!) but what I smelled made my other senses come back tenfold and suddenly the noise made sense. It was not the noise of rides or shooting galleries (I thanked God for small miracles), nor other familiar sounds.

It was the roaring of flames ⏤ very close flames. And somewhere to the left just above my ear I heard the ominous creaking of scorched wood.

Breathe, Icilia, breathe. Deeply in and out.

Trembling, I sucked the smoke-filled, oxygen-deprived air through my nose and promptly choked on it. My dry throat began to cramp, making me cough until my throat began to hurt like it was being dragged across a cheese grater. Dread welled up inside me as I desperately tried to get air into my lungs. I tore my eyes open in reflex, only to regret it immediately.

The smoke burned at my cornea, tears ran down my cheeks, trying frantically to keep my eyes moist.

What on earth was going on here? Where am I and where are Joshua and Holly? If anything's happened to them …

I pulled my legs towards me and propped myself up with my arms. A bright, hot pain shot through my muscles and I could not suppress an agonised groan.

After squinting for a while to get tears and soot out of my sight, I could finally make out the surroundings.

I was in a house, or a shack? Definitely no longer in the monastery of Álava, that was for certain, but otherwise I was hopelessly lost. Was it a cottage? But just a moment ago I was still doing the Escape Room mission with my brother and Holly. I was looking for the switch ⏤

A loud creaking above me did not bode well. My breath was shallow ⏤ I barely dared to take a breath as I looked up. One of the supporting ceiling beams was sagging and threatening to crash down on me. All in a moment my aching muscles were forgotten and I heaved myself up, making my way through junk and charred wood.

I had to get out of here, I had to get out of here at once.

My fingers were trembling when I fumbled with the hot door handle. It took me a few seconds to understand that I had to push it up instead of down.

The door gave way to ... mayhem. I had no better words to describe the image in front of me. Too many sensations were aroused at the same time, it was an overstimulation.

I stood in the centre of a district in front of a once impressive tree with its imposing branches now hanging down burnt and broken. Its leaves, colourful as I had never seen it before, were singed. The houses around, or rather obsolete huts, laid in ruins. Yet I could tell that they had never been in a properly maintained state.

My breathing became shallower, although I could breathe in oxygen again instead of smoke.

Something was not right about this air: it smelled strangely of something I couldn't place, but it threatened to turn my stomach inside out. It was heavy and thick and settled on my lungs like lead, blocking the way for much-needed oxygen. Through my watery eyes I tried to make out more of my surroundings ⏤ I squinted my eyelids into slits and focused on the debris around me. I realised what the source of the stench was and it wasn't just the fire, the smoke and the charred wood. It was what was in the midst of this mess: fleshy lumps, mostly burnt beyond recognition, and I could no longer tell if they were human or animal. Given the fact that I seemed to be in some kind of residential area, I feared it was the former.

My throat tightened at the sight, the smell, the realisation, my fingers began to tremble until my whole body was shaking like aspen leaves.

What has happened here? All these people were... executed? This is definitely not Álava. Please, dear God, don't let this be Álava.

The air was stagnant until a peaceful breeze stirred it up and before my mind could realise it, my stomach had already reacted. I vomited whatever my body could produce with a ferocity that brought me to my knees. With one hand I desperately tried to clear my burning eyes of tears, while I barely managed to hold myself in my stunted squatting position with the other one. Everything hurt so much. My stomach ached and it just wouldn't stop choking out bile. It felt like it was tearing me apart. Sweat broke out on my forehead and made my body tingle feverishly, bitingly. Tears and snot gathered on my upper lip and dripped down into my vomit.

This place smelled worse than any slaughterhouse, fleshier than any butcher's shop, and this disgusting resemblance to salted meat made me choke up bile all over again. It needed a few minutes to calm my racing heart and churning stomach before I could sit up again and take a breath.

I heaved myself up into an upright, then into a standing position. I walked slowly, one step before the other, past the dead tree and towards the stairs at the opposite end, which seemed to be the only exit from the district. After the first few steps, the stone crumbled under my feet, pieces bursting off and hindering my path. My muscles were burning too much for me to climb the stairs safely. The smoke and the falling dusk further obstructed my view. Resting my back against the wall of a house, I closed my eyes and concentrated on the trembling of my tired limbs. Only now did I notice how quiet it had actually become. There was no wind, only the crackling of the burning houses and the flames licking at their walls could be heard.

Were there any survivors of this chaos? And if so, then where were they? Where had they escaped to?

I pushed myself off the wall and climbed the next stairs ⏤ with every step I took, I was one further away from this hell. And I was sure there had to be survivors. And someone who knew where they were. Maybe someone who could tell me where Josh was as well. And Holly. Mum would be so worried if we didn't return from our tour and it was supposed to be a holiday of carefree joy and family reunion.

Mum had only recently been able to rebuild her relationship with Theo after all the years of separation and now our family was about to break up again?

I would not let that happen. I had to find her again and we would go to the valley tonight as planned, visit the famous festival and enjoy the music.

But for that I needed to find my way out of here first.

The stairs led me down a stony, clay alley, equally destroyed as the town square. What changed was the noises: I seemed to approach ... something, clanging and voices? Shouts? From the sea of sounds, I could barely make out the various bits and pieces, but the closer I got, the more it sounded like a medieval battle, taken straight out of The Lord of the Rings. Metal screeched as it met metal, and something hissed through the air. My mind finally seemed to say goodbye, otherwise I probably would never have had the courage (or the foolishness) to move towards that noise. I should run away, like any other normal person.

Up the stairs and now straight ahead, the clanging is getting louder. I think if I turn to the right here …

Whatever I was about to think remained in a limbo as I found myself face to face with a monstrous creature. Its fleshy hands grabbed a figure with unexpected speed ⏤ a man with a stick in his hand for defence ⏤ and crushed him within a breath. He threw the lifeless body away carelessly. He then caught sight of me. The face, marred by ulcers, was barely recognisable as human. In its remaining eye laid a disturbing mixture of emotionlessness and rage. My body took over before the monster could even lift one of its lumpy fingers. I took to my heels and ran in the direction where I hoped to find safety. Behind me I heard its stomping, but I tried to concentrate on the path ahead and ignore my burning lungs and the cold sweat on my forehead. Now was not the time for a panic attack. I had to get out of here, then I could find a corner to cry in.

I made my way through the rubble, oblivious to the disfigured, motionless bodies, letting my instincts take over. But the farther I ran, the worse everything got. More and more of these creatures appeared, fighting men, women and even children. The acrid smell of metal filled the air, swords clanged and I could hear flashes of lightning.

I didn't even know it was possible until then. A hissing, electrifying sound ⏤ no cracking thunder ⏤ accompanied the lightning and sent the massive brutes sailing through the air.

Are the lightning bolts coming out of the people's sticks? Like a magic wand?

If I weren't in mortal danger right now, I would have laughed at the absurdity of this situation. Magic wands, seriously.

"Get down!" The shout jolted me out of my thoughts. Although I didn't know to whom it was addressed, I followed the order without questioning. Just in time, as only a fraction of a second later a fireball whizzed past me and only missed me by a hair's breadth.

The attack came from one of the women. Who was fighting whom here?

"Quickly, you can't linger here," said the same voice that had warned me before. "They are neither in their right mind, nor can they distinguish between friend and foe. Let alone want to."

He was a young man who seemed to interpret my hesitation as rejection, and perhaps he was right. Why should I trust the words of a stranger? Who knows which side he was on? Perhaps he would throw one of those fiery balls in my face if I trusted him. Somewhere deep in the back of my mind I could hear a faint I told you so in my brother's voice. Good God, I was completely losing my mind. My maybe-saviour grabbed impatiently at my elbow and dragged me down the alleyways, avoiding the creatures and debris as if he had done it dozens of times before. Perhaps he had.

Fortunately for us, they were too focused on themselves to pay much attention to us. Until the fleshy arm of a monstrosity appeared out of nowhere and almost crushed us, had my companion not thrown us to the ground in time, at the cost of an old lady. The fist hit her full force in the pit of the stomach, sending her hurtling through the air, right through the fighting crowd, and bursting against the wall with a shrill scream.

"We have to keep moving. Whatever happens, stay close to me."

My knees ached as I picked myself up, but the adrenaline in my blood eased the soreness to a tolerable throb.

"Where ar…" My voice cracked, too rough from the smoke. Despite the fact that we were running again, I tried to clear my throat and swallow the lump that had formed there and resumed my question. "Where are you taking me?" The man barely gave me a glance over his shoulder, fully concentrated on his target. Whatever that might be.

Past a collapsed house, down the stairs, dodging lightning, fire and ice in turn. These ... spells ... smashed against walls and the loose chunks buried anyone nearby beneath them. Out of the corner of my eye I could see one of the lumps smash a man's head. I couldn't suppress a whimper and looked away as quickly as possible, back towards the road.

"Let's hope the tunnels in Darktown have remained hidden." I no longer expected his answer, even though it didn't help me the slightest.

My head was in a hopeless muddle. Every thought got lost in a dozen others before I could grasp it. But what was the point of it? This was neither the time nor the place to follow my confused train of thought. He pulled me up the next flight of stairs ⏤ why were there so many stairs here? ⏤ and I could hardly keep up. I simply couldn't go on anymore. My legs ached, my lungs burned. I choked on my dry mouth and the resulting urge to cough made me sink to my knees. "We have to get away from here quickly, so keep it together." My companion sounded similarly stricken, but he held himself together much better than I did.

He was right: we would perish here if we didn't flee as fast as possible.

The man led me between various walls. I began to wonder how we had survived so far. Apparently people here could shoot lightning from staves, then maybe my rescuer could also make us invisible? "There's a passageway back here. Too narrow for the abominations and unknown to most people. Go ahead." Narrow was to be understood as a euphemism in this case. I had to squeeze my way between the narrow walls of the buildings with bated breath and stomach tucked in. Old plaster crumbled from the walls along the way and trickled into my eyes. But only a few steps away from me I could see the end. I was almost there.

Finally arrived, I could catch my breath again and rub my sandy eyes. I turned to my companion, who seemed to be studying the scenery. "You seem to know exactly which way you're going. How much further is it?" My voice still sounded far too scratchy, but at least I managed a complete sentence.

"The sewers should give us sufficient coverage, and a safe route to the Wounded Coast. As safe as routes in Kirkwall can be."

Wounded Coast, Kirkwall ... were these the places we were now? None of it sounded remotely familiar and the names didn't have a Spanish ring to them at all. What had happened? Where were my brother and Holly? Please, dear God, let them be safe at home. Let me go back to them.

I tried to keep my feelings to myself and put on as neutral a face as possible. "We could escape from there. Wounded Coast ... Does that mean there's a harbour there? Then escaping across the sea would be a possibility."

I had no clue what transportation means were being used here. Or whether there were other continents beyond the sea, if one existed. But I would be damned if I was going to let him feel my utter cluelessness. He would be able to exploit this weak point and I could not yet tell whether I could trust this man.

He shook his head. "The harbour can be reached only through the city. Perhaps we could ... no, that would be foolish." An exasperated sigh passed his lips and his brow furrowed thoughtfully. He seemed to do this often, because crinkles were beginning to form at the corners of his eyes and forehead, even though he could only be a few years older than me. "Let's get out of here first. After that, we can continue to rack our brains."

The alley led us to an underground part of the city that resembled the area where I had woken up in terms of decay and rot.

The high ceilings should have made me feel like I was able to finally breathe, but instead I felt claustrophobic. There was something in the air that made me feel queasy and I grew more and more uneasy. "It's the toxic smoke," the man explained as he eyed me closely. "At least both the Templars and the abominations seem to be staying away from here." A dry, humourless laugh escaped him. "Not even Templars," here he screwed up his face and spat out the word, "want to butt heads here." I wanted to ask who or what Templars were ⏤ I guessed they were not the Templars I knew ⏤ but his extreme reaction held me back. Better not to provoke him. However, it was true: there was no one here. The alleys were deserted. To be honest, I found it hard to imagine that anyone had ever been here. There were no houses and the paths reminded me more of mine shafts than streets.

The damp, mouldy walls seemed to provide the ideal breeding ground for the lichens that were trying to take over every inch.

"We'll make a short detour and take the tunnels from there." Another instruction. Brief, concise, and no more information than necessary. I followed him nonetheless through the rotting alleys, again stairs up, stairs down ⏤ couldn't it at least have been escalators? ⏤ and then into a large back room. All kinds of cots were lined up against the wall, barrels were overflowing with bloody cloths and a few piles of hay were scattered in the corners. It was a mess. Like everything here.

My companion rummaged through the bins and boxes until he seemed to have found what he was looking for. He packed the belongings into his pockets, stowing them away carefully, as if he had fragile supplies. He had barely finished his task when he waved me over. "There is an entrance to the tunnels over here. I must warn you ... I am not sure what awaits us there. But...". His eyes looked tired, feeble. For the first time I could sympathise with this stranger and I almost felt sorry for being so suspicious of him. But only almost.

"But they offer a chance to escape, risky as it may be," he continued after a pause. I couldn't help feeling that there was more to his words than the idea of making an escape. Hopefully I'd get the opportunity to find out more later. Not only about him, however many questions were burning under my nails. But also about this city, about the monstrosities and about the humans with the lightning and the fire coming out of their staves. Staves, like the one he carried on his back.

It had a Gandalf the Wizard touch to it.

Via a ladder, hidden behind a secret door, we entered the tunnel system. The ceilings were low here and the walls were close together, barely providing space for one person, let alone two. I stayed behind him. Relieved that this time he took the lead and navigated us through the narrow corridors.

The silence held on for a long time, only disturbed by our breathing and footsteps. It was dark down here. I felt my way along the walls with my fingers and a bluish light sparsely illuminated the path, just enough to catch a glimpse of his back. With each step I grew more tired and as the adrenaline left my body, I concentrated solely on putting my feet in front of each other. After what felt like hours, the passage became noticeably lighter until it opened up and we stood in a small underground clearing. A cave. Were we finally out of the city? The man promptly answered my silent question. "We left Kirkwall's walls behind. Which is ... no reason to be relieved, but at least we should now be far enough away to rest." Contrary to his words, his stiff shoulders relaxed, if only slightly, and he began to gather up wood and leaves. "What are you doing?" I asked him ⏤ cautiously, in case my words were unwelcome. "Can I help you?"

"Move the scrub aside over there in the corner. But keep it inconspicuous, I don't want to leave too many traces."

I nodded in affirmation, even though he couldn't see it. His back was already turned to me again. I set about clearing the weeds, just a little, until a small spot was free. The man came to me with a pile of twigs, plants and stones and used the spot to build a small campfire. Just as I was about to ask him how we were going to start a fire, he reached for the staff at his back and let some sparks fly until the first leaves caught fire and a pleasant crackling sound could be heard.

So this is actually a magic wand? I don't know if that's incredibly exciting or incredibly scary.

I settled down on the ground in front of the fire, my legs drawn up to me. It seemed as good a time as any to finally get some questions off my chest. "Why did you do that?" He winced, obviously surprised by my question. His brow furrowed again, a facial expression I was beginning to become familiar with. "What are you getting at?" There was scepticism in his words, attentiveness. I let my gaze wander over him and examined him, really looked at him for the first time. His skin had lost its luster and looked sallow, pale, almost sickly. His half-length hair was coming out of its ponytail and I could make out a pretty blond in the dim light. It was darker than mine and distinctly more reddish. And there was a warmth in his eyes that soothed me a little for the first time in hours. Perhaps I had fallen in with the right person, mage, whatever he was. Perhaps I could let myself relax. At least a little.

"You helped me despite the fact that you could have simply fled. And yet you put yourself in danger for me."

The wrinkles on his forehead deepened, his mouth twisted into a grimace. Had I started with the wrong question? And thus ruined the possibility for me to ask further ones? No please …

"Templars turn their power against mages and some mages are so mad and think blood magic is the solution to all their problems. This is madness!" His voice rose and I wanted to remind him to be quiet. But after a deep breath, he seemed to collect himself. "Everyone is turning on everyone without rhyme or reason. The peaceful way is ... no longer an option these days. But protecting an innocent life seemed like a good way to oppose injustice."

I was able to understand the answer to my question. I was relieved that his motives seemed so altruistic, even if I was sure there was a catch. The rest of his statements, however, only raised more questions, all of which I wanted answered in the near future. But at that moment I was too tired. Now that the tension was finally off me, I felt my body with a heaviness that pressed me into the ground. I needed to rest. Just one more question, I chided myself. Then you can sleep.

I kept my eyes strained open and brought the words to my lips: "What can I call you?" A short silence followed and I could have sworn he held his breath. I did, anyway.

"Anders. Simply Anders."

So I was dealing with an Anders. With a Simply-Anders .