The Shattered Mirror (Winter's Blight Book 4)

by M. C. Aquila

  After a moment, the pain in her hand passed, and she looked up to see Alan standing over her. The recognition in his face was gone but so was the anguish. In place of the flesh on his decaying, skeletal hand were dark Unseelie claws.

  Dark Shadow Magic dripped from his hand like ink and collected in pools of shadow on the floor. Kallista scrambled backward from him. “Don’t—” She gasped.

  The clawed hand extended toward her, and something small and metallic hit the floor and rolled to a stop in front of her feet. It was an item she recognized instantly, one she’d abandoned at the manor.

  Her wedding ring.

  Dark magic whispered through the space, and the crystals forming the claw shifted, rippling. Instead of her husband before her, there was a creature—an unfamiliar creature who looked from her to the ring expectantly. The creature who was more Unseelie than human.

  “N-no—” she said, shaking her head, her back bumping against the wall as she shuffled back farther. “I won’t take it. Not from you.”

  Wordlessly the creature turned and exited the glass prison and shut the door, exiting the truck and locking her inside.

  Kallista watched him leave, then slunk to the ground, shivering and sobbing.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  James raced back to the camp through the woods that were already growing dark in the early-autumn sunset, panting but smiling. But there was no sign of Mum or Cai, even as he called and searched for them. All their belongings were gone.

  Something rustled the leaves overhead, and an owl Dryad—the same one he had seen following him and Alvey days ago—swooped and landed on a low branch beside him. The faery tilted his head, clicking his beak, and said, “If you are searching for your mother, you will not find her here.”

  “Why?” James’s grin faltered. “Where is she?”

  “I heard she has left the realm.” With that, the Dryad took flight, ruffling James’s hair with a gust of wind from his wings, and vanished into the trees.

  James stared after the creature, at the place where he vanished, until his eyes glazed. He stood there, unable to process the words, his mind stumbling over them again and again, hoping they would make sense.

  “Okay… okay…” He ran a hand through his hair roughly. “Maybe she—maybe it was a mistake. There has to be an explanation. Just think it through. She didn’t leave—” His voice faltered.

  He gripped a fistful of his hair until it hurt, pressing his palm against his forehead. “It’s okay,” he managed after a pause. “It’ll be fine. I’ll… I’ll go find Sybil, and she’ll know what to do.”

  Hurrying away, he distanced himself from his racing thoughts by focusing on landmarks to find the same path Alvey had taken him on before.

  The moment the familiar tree gazebo came into sight, James realized something was off. He skidded to a halt in the leaf litter, gasping at the wisps of hazy light surrounding the structure. It had looked like that when Alvey had asked him to stay behind, when she had gone alone to see her mother.

  James approached cautiously and called out, “Sybil?”

  There was no answer. He stepped inside the structure, passing through the light, the sensation as soft as sunlight falling through the trees. “Sybil?” he called again.

  The Noble faery was hardly recognizable, lying on her back on her bed of cushions on the floor, her eyes wide open, moving but unseeing. She was completely sedated.

  Halting at the sight, James tried to form words around the lump in his throat but could only let out a faint, choked sound. For a moment he felt like that helpless boy in Neo-London again. When he pried his eyes away from her face, he noticed the mirror lying by her limp hand.

  The mirror handle and base was carved and formed out of dark wood in the shape of vines, flowers, and berries. The silvery surface was clear but glowed faintly with creamy Light Magic.

  “Sybil?” He knelt beside her, and after hesitating, gave her shoulder a light nudge. “Sybil, please,” he said, his voice tight. “I need your help. Please wake up. I-I don’t know what to do.”

  When she did not stir, he took the mirror from the floor and stood up. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to her, before turning to leave.

  The moment he stepped out of the structure with the mirror in his hand, something heavy and sharp struck the side of his head, and he was on the ground. An eerie cry roused him, and he rolled over onto his back in time to hold up his arm. The owl Dryad dove toward him, sharp talons bared, and sent a gust of Wind Magic at him.

  Acting on instinct, James focused on the magic he felt in the air—its will and intent was to fling the mirror out of his hand. His will was stronger. With a flash, the Wind Magic doubled back on the owl Dryad, striking it. It plummeted to the ground in a heap of feathers.

  After crawling over to the creature, checking with shaky hands that it was only stunned, James scrambled upright. He winced, feeling the scratch on his head from the faery’s claws, his fingers coming away bloody. Clutching the mirror tightly, he ran back in the direction of the well.

  By the time he’d reached the grove of trees again, James’s legs burned from running as he slid to his knees in front of the well. “Cecil,” he gasped, “I-I have the mirror. I’ve got it.”

  Golden eyes stared back at him. “Where is your mother?”

  “Cecil—” James set the mirror down by the well. He turned his head, hiding his face as he tried to compose himself, gulping. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice thick. “She left the realm. I don’t know why or why she left without—saying anything.”

  “James, everything will be all right. We can still help your mother even if she is not here,” Cecil said firmly. “When you’re ready, we’ll begin the spell.”

  After taking a moment to breathe, swallowing back his grief, James got to work with the spell. He followed Cecil’s instructions exactly, focusing on that instead of everything else that had happened. It was similar to spells he had tried before, requiring a crystal, which he already had with him, and a few other ingredients that were easily collected from his surroundings.

  “Finally we need blood. Your blood,” Cecil said.

  “Blood?” James blinked, shaking his head. “Why would we need blood for a healing spell? It’s not Unseelie, right? That doesn’t… that doesn’t sound right.”

  “Do you wish to save your mother or not, James? I know you can do this.”

  After a pause, James nodded and then reached and swiped his sweater sleeve across the gash on his head. Like with the rest of the items, the blood needed to be placed on the mirror’s silver surface, so he smeared it across the glass.

  As he focused like Cecil said, James felt the Light Magic in the mirror waken, and the magic from the spell woke with it. He held up the mirror, focusing his intent, willing the spell to work. Instead, it felt like he hit a wall.

  “I-I don’t think it’s working,” James said.

  “Here,” Cecil said softly. “Let me help you with the little magic I have borrowed. This is… a courtesy to you. But you mustn’t fight it.” Then the wall lifted, and James felt the power and presence of Cecil’s magic like a gust of icy wind.

  This isn’t just Cecil’s presence. It’s different.

  This was colder, darker, and far more powerful and ancient. There was no room for doubt—this was purely evil.

  “Cecil—?” He was too terrified to move at first, then clenched his teeth and tried to jerk away. But the magic was overwhelming him too, like giant hands holding him down, suffocating him. His will, his intent, and his mind faded as the magic shadowed his senses. A cold, empty feeling filled his chest, like being frozen inside out.

  Stop. Make it stop! Whispers reached his ears, not his own and not the dark magic’s. I can feel it… dying—the Light Magic is fading. It’s going to break. The mirror—

  “Honestly, I do not see why you or I should waste such magic on your mother,” Cecil continued, his voice distant, echoing in his ringing ears. “Her punishment
was quite fitting. After all, I think you deserve a family who would never abandon you.”

  James flinched as his reflection in the glass mirror fractured, his face distorted by the cracks in the glass. The mirror in his hand shattered into pieces. When the shadow over him faded, he desperately fumbled for the pieces, but they turned to dust in his hands, slipping through his fingers.

  A horrible, dry, dead silence filled the grove. The Wind Magic halted, and the trees stopped their rustling. Then all around him, the realm trembled with noise and magic, like it was wounded.

  “Cecil—” James leaned over the well. “Cecil! The spell—it broke the mirror. The magic broke it, and—” He was stunned to silence as he stared at the sky. It was shifting, changing from the blue of the realm to the rumbling gray of the world outside. “The barrier,” he croaked. “The barrier is breaking.”

  “You’ve done very well, James,” Cecil said. When the scrying spell faded, the golden eyes fading with it looked sorrowful.

  As the realm descended into chaos around him, the only thing he could think to do was run. So James scrambled to his feet and ran into the woods as fast as he could and did not look back.

  * * *

  “Deirdre, Iain, that is enough.”

  Oberon’s voice broke through her dizziness and Iain’s directions, and Deirdre’s eyes snapped open. But she didn’t let go of her magic as she looked over her shoulder at the faery king. “But there’s still more. We can do more!”

  “Rise, both of you.”

  Sighing, she let go of the magic and stood, accepting Iain’s hand to help her up. Shivering and tired as the remnants of her adrenaline faded fast, she asked, “I failed, didn’t I? I know there were still some trucks left over, at least…”

  To her surprise, Oberon let out a small laugh. “Failed? You are so like your mother when she was young. Nay, you did well, both of you.” He tilted his head, looking up as he added, “Perhaps not as well as you would have done if you had accepted our original test, but that cannot be helped.”

  Deirdre gaped. “I passed?”

  “You passed!” Titania leaned over and flicked Deirdre’s open mouth shut with a finger, giggling. “And in much less time than expected, I daresay.”

  “That is quite subjective,” Oberon muttered.

  Deirdre and Iain turned toward each other, beaming, but before they could embrace, Lonan cleared his throat thunderously. “And now you must return inside the barrier, both of you. While their progress has been delayed, I would not—”

  A roar like a peal of thunder reverberated through the air and earth, coming from the realm behind them. The sky above the realm streaked with faint lines like lightning but without the shock of brightness. When the lines faded, the sky darkened.

  Titania placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder, whispering, “This cannot be. It must be only a small tear…”

  In reply, Oberon lifted up one arm, and a tendril of silvery light shot straight up to the heavens above the realm, to the darkening sky. “The top of the barrier is holding strong,” he said, “but the entire structure has been weakened and is peeling back, starting at the edges.”

  “What does that mean?” Iain asked while Alvey, wheeling forward, cried, “Did something happen to my mother?”

  “We need to ensure the border’s security and make sure the barrier does not weaken any further,” Oberon said, the light disappearing as he met his wife’s gaze.

  “I’ll take care of minding the barrier,” she said. She and her husband briefly squeezed hands before Titania turned away, disappearing in a flash of light.

  “Alvey, Deirdre.” Oberon knelt down, putting one hand on her shoulder (making her start in surprise) and the other on Alvey’s. “Return to the realm. I would imagine something has indeed happened to Sybil or at least to her drachma. Go and find her. The lower faeries are charged to give her space and distance, and they shall not approach her territory unless ordered otherwise. This means you must go to her and see that she gets whatever aid she needs so she can restore the barrier.”

  Deirdre’s gaze darted from Oberon to Alvey, who was white as a sheet and twisting her shawl in concern, and she forced her voice to be confident and calm. “Of course. I’ll do everything I can.”

  “I wonder if James is with Mother,” Alvey muttered, twisting her shawl harder. “I would not think so… We had been spending time near the border, so perhaps…”

  Deirdre gasped, looking to Iain. “He wouldn’t know about the barrier—and monsters could be getting in, couldn’t they? Those hounds or something? We need to find him and let him know!”

  Iain shook his head, clenching the pommel of his sword at his waist. “I’ll find him. You two go ahead and help Sybil—I can handle James myself.” He gave Deirdre a grim but confident small smile. “It’s your first job as a Noble faery, isn’t it?”

  She let out a weak laugh. “Yeah.” For a moment they were still. There didn’t seem to be anything else other than Iain and the space between them.

  “I—” Deirdre bit her lip, frozen. “I’ll see you later, Iain.”

  Oberon grabbed her and Alvey as if they were kittens, taking them back to the clearing where their camp was in a burst of light. He did not stop after dropping them off, disappearing immediately in a flash of blue and a great wind as they caught their bearings.

  I’ll see you later? Seriously? she chided herself anxiously as she ran to catch up with Alvey, who was hurriedly rolling out of the clearing toward her home. What if that was the last thing…?

  She hastily shook the thought from her head. No. It’s okay. Sybil will fix the barrier right up. No monsters will get in. We’ll all be fine.

  * * *

  Iain had reached the edge of the barrier when Roshan, who was on standby with some soldiers, parted the wavering Light Magic enough for him to slip into the realm. But before he could, the ground beneath them thundered and shook. As if slashed by massive, invisible claws, the weakened barrier shuddered and tore apart, the foggy land outside peeking through like fractures in the world.

  Roshan immediately took off with a shout of horror, spinning his staff and summoning a mound of Earth Magic to block the nearest tear, which was as large as a redwood tree. When Iain asked, the Summer Prince called an owl Dryad to guide Iain to his brother, but as the owl took to the skies, he hesitated.

  Looking between the tear and the owl, gripping the hilt of the faery sword, Iain asked breathlessly, “How far are we from James?”

  “I sense he is heading in the opposite direction now,” the Dryad answered. “The wind tells me that Cardea and another faery are on his trail.”

  “Is he safe there?” Iain looked back at Roshan. “He’s out of the way of the battle?”

  “I should think so.”

  “You can join them or wait here,” Iain said. “I’ve got to help where I’m needed.”

  With a nod, the faery fluttered back into the air, disappearing through the trees, and Iain raced back toward the gap in the barrier, hoping to defend it. He unsheathed the faery sword at his belt, found his footing, and brandished the blade as Cai had taught him. His muscles knew the various blocks, parries, and attacks. He was as ready as he could be.

  Roshan glanced back at him. “I sense Unseelies coming this way. They will try to get inside the realm. If you insist on fighting beside me, I shall try not to severely burn you!”

  “Thanks for that,” Iain said. “I’ll take out any Unseelie monsters that get past you.”

  “And what of the Iron Guard soldiers?” the prince asked with a knowing look.

  Iain took a deep breath. “I’ll do what I have to.”

  * * *

  As the main squadron had charged forward, the Shadow Magic attack had slowed the their progress to the barrier. The soldiers had to go around the rusted, broken tanks and trucks in their path. Alan had climbed into a new tank and was about to close the hatch but lingered on the ladder as the squadron pointed to the horizon line in the di
stance. Beyond the trees and the sloped tops of the mountains, flashes of blue light arched and crackled across the sky and over the landscape. With each flash, a strong, hot wind blew from the direction of the realm.

  “That’s not lightning, is it?” a commander asked.

  “The barrier,” Alan said, breathless. “It’s finally weakened.”

  It was a sight he had envisioned many times before in the years since the Cataclysm. The barrier falling would be the catalyst for the destruction of the faerie blight that scarred his country. Beyond that, it meant that his task was almost complete.

  Almost done now. Once it’s over… The Unseelie magic under his skin pulsed. He had removed his jacket and wrapped it around his decaying arm, hiding it from sight. I don’t expect I’ll see the aftermath.

  Focused, Alan lowered the hatch on the tank and led the squadron toward the barrier. The moment the barrier around the realm faltered, the Seelie forces outside drew back toward the Summer Court to secure the borders, leaving the path open for the squadrons to advance from five directions.

  The chill in the air grew around them, pushing away the warm wind from the Court like an icy shield, and it was laced with the piercing cries and guttural howls of the Unseelie monsters. The creatures stalked from the woods, some swift and dark as shadows, others pale and creeping, seeming to fade in and out of the remaining fog at will. They poured out of every direction from the land, forming an army. Thousands of Unseelie monsters gathered—Unseelie hounds, wolves, goblins, dwarves, and Red Caps preceded the Iron Guard to the barrier. The leader of the Unseelie Varg forces, the Winter Court’s more ordered and formal army, was sneaking past the front lines on some mission in the heart of the realm, the nature of which was unknown to Alan.

  The Iron Guard soldiers watched with pale, sweating faces as the creatures streamed through the military formation. Some of the infantry seemed to hold their breath, flinching or twitching to raise their weapons on instinct as the monsters passed by them in a blur of teeth and claws. Though the monsters did not turn on them, their hungry eyes roved across the humans, a few of the hounds slavering as they passed.