by Risa Fey
The light flowed over her scalp, reconstructing the thatch of her hair, but remaking it both sumptuous and shiny. Her arms were smooth and milky white, fingers delicate, and nails pink with health. Her curves filled out. Even her lips were plump with succulent shape.
Thaed’s eyes brightened at her transformation, brimming full of satisfaction. His slit pupils dilated with a hunger that was both somber and salacious, and there was evil in the way he looked at her—although it did not negate his charm.
“You’re not human,” Cora accused him again in a quiet state of shock.
One of his eyebrows climbed up as if to taunt her with that knowledge. Thaed released her and made a gesture for her to inspect herself.
She did. Cora found that her body was rebuilt to something gorgeous and irresistible—something she could envision being next to him forever.
“It’s normal where I come from,” Thaed said. “Magic, I mean. But where you come from, folks are wary and mistrustful of what they do not understand.”
“You’re a devil,” Cora said, in echo to her mother’s distant warning.
“You might call me whatever you like,” he shrugged curtly, “just like how Men dehumanize people like you.”
“What do you mean ‘people like me’…?” She cast him an inquiring look.
“They did not want you to find out about yourself, since your powers were supposed to remain a secret, even to you. But when I found you, I felt the potential flowing through your veins and didn’t want it to go to waste. It’s not a secret anymore, Cora. I will help you in any way I can—even if it costs me. I can make you more magnificent and powerful to that end—and They can’t do anything to stop me.”
Cora swallowed dryly. It felt like glass was in her throat. “If I have any power, then it’s probably impotent by now.”
He jumped eagerly at that. “If your power is atrophied after all of these years, then that’s only because They didn’t let you know about it. Magic weakens if not exercised. You are beautiful and powerful, Cora. Let me show you just how much.”
He seemed almost too eager and too urgent. His urgency was certainly unwarranted, but a thrill lurched through her that quashed any suspicion.
“If you only lived on my side of the world, we would have honed that power in you long ago, not demonized it. We would have made it strong, and you would have been renowned for your unrivaled beauty.”
Something clicked in her mind, and she realized he had contradicted himself. “Didn’t you just tell me I was ugly?”
“…I meant, ugly in your own eyes.”
“And not in yours?”
Thaed simpered hesitantly. “Of course not. I worship the very ground you walk on.”
Cora looked down and considered this.
Thaed was smooth and incredibly skilled in the way he talked. In fact, he was also skilled in the way he acted. But that was what Cora was scared of: that it was nothing but an act. “You mentioned before there was a way for us to be together.”
“That’s right.” His expression blurred somewhat. “Only… I’m reluctant to say how, because I know how you’ll react.”
“You can’t keep any more secrets from me,” she said, turning her chin up. “If you don’t tell me, it’ll ruin what little trust we have right now.” Cora let that sink in for a moment, and then urged him, “I want to know. I need to know. I’m entitled to at least that much, aren’t I?”
The circles of his pupils thinned into sickles once again. “You are.” And though he conceded the point, she could clearly see his unwillingness to speak.
“Tell me,” she ordered.
Then finally, reluctantly, he explained:
“You and I live on separate planes. Creatures are able to pass through the barriers unhindered, as you saw with the firefly and the dog. But even though they can cross over, they’re different from one world to the next. You witnessed their transformation for yourself, remember? The change is a sort of curse, you might say, for overstepping the boundary.”
Cora shuddered at the reminder of the walking corpse. Where was that horrible creature now? she wondered. Likely running amok somewhere in the woods, scaring hunters and explorers.
“Are you saying one of us will be cursed—whichever one of us crosses over?” Cora asked.
His mouth went wry in tacit acknowledgement, and her eyes widened fractionally.
“But… I don’t want to get any uglier!” She could already feel the tears building up behind her eyes.
Thaed scoffed softly in objection. “It’s impossible to convince you that you’re not ugly—but it doesn’t even matter. We can’t pass through. The magic is too delicate to transport our cumbersome souls through the flimsy mirrors.”
Insects and animals must not have souls then, Cora told herself. Or at least not willful ones that weigh too heavy on the magic.
“We tried to get through to each other already,” Thaed went on, “but Hecate, the queen of magic, keeps preventing us. Even love isn’t powerful enough to outstrip the Witch Goddess of her tyrannical control.”
“I don’t get it.” Cora frowned. “What does a witch goddess have to do with any of this?” Thaed was talking beyond her purview now, about things she couldn’t possibly understand.
“She sets the rules of magic,” he explained. “And mortals must obey them.”
Her forehead creased into a frown. “But you said that it was possible.”
His whole demeanor changed at that, as if he was scared of losing her interest. “Yes. It is possible. I meant it.” He seemed to be searching for the right words, but couldn’t quite find them. The shadows around his blue eyes deepened. His expression was solemn but unreadable.
He’s about to tell me what he’s been afraid to mention this whole time, Cora realized.
“I’ll break through,” she decided, believing she had figured it all out. “If that’s what you’re getting at. I’m not afraid to. I’ll break all the mirrors and cut myself into shreds if I have to—if it means that I get to be with you.”
She almost thought that he was smiling, but nothing outwardly about his face had changed. He’s pleased with what I’ve said, she told herself, and a little thrill curled through her belly. I must’ve gotten it right, then; he wants me to break through!
Having thus determined her course of action, Cora whirled away.
“Wait!” Thaed shouted, but she was already gone, running back to the cottage.
The back door creaked open and then crashed shut in her wake. Cora picked up a small wooden box she used as a container for her hair ties, and then stretched her arm back, prepared to throw it at one of the mirrors.
“Stop!”
Her arm froze against her will, and the muscles locked up in an agony of electrical heat. The box slipped out of her fingers, and colorful hair ties spilled out over the rug.
Thaed’s hand was stretched out in a stopping gesture, in the very mirror she was aiming at. Something had spiraled out of his palm, a maelstrom of black magic, and it had seized control of her body like a possession.
Cora was only vaguely aware that he had just been outside with her, and now was suddenly in the mirror. She was confused over his seeming omnipresence, and even more frightened by his apparent omnipotence.
I’m losing my mind, she thought. This whole thing must be dream—that’s it. That’s why he can move around so easily. She could think of no other explanation for how things were going.
“Explain yourself,” Cora whispered, and the tremble in her voice gave way to anger and suspicion.
Thaed covered his eyes with one hand, and then groaned into his palm. “I appreciate the sentiment, Cora. I appreciate your trying to get to me in any way you can. But you have to hear me out first, or else you’ll ruin it for both of us. You can pass through. But not through these mirrors. Their magic isn’t potent enough, and they’re not designed to convey spirits. They’ll only shatter if you hit them, and you may actually die if you try anything too dras
tic.”
“I told you I didn’t care.”
“I care. Don’t be stupid; use your head for once.”
Your stupidity is unbelievable.
Cora shivered with embarrassment. “You sound irritated.” She raised an eyebrow at him, to call his patience into question.
Thaed ground his teeth together. “I am. It’s hard not to be when you don’t listen.”
Cora shrank backward, swiped up the box from the ground, and then leveled it over her shoulder. “So is there something you can do with your magic? Like how you made me beautiful?”
He expelled an exasperated breath of air. “I didn’t change you. You look exactly the same as you did before.”
She laughed involuntary at the absurdity of his claim. “You expect me to believe that? Why don’t you conjure something to make the magic mirror stronger, or whatever. That way you could come through the portal yourself.”
“You’re beautiful, but stupid and annoying.”
Cora’s stomach lurched horribly at that unexpected insult. The last thing she wanted was to disappoint him, or do anything that might displease him.
“My lovely Cora,” he said more gently, and with greater self-control, “I’m trying to explain this to you in a way you can understand… I don’t know of any mirror magic that could take me safely over to your side—or you to mine.”
Cora said nothing and waited for him to continue with the explanation. She didn’t want to risk forfeiting his affection over a lousy squabble. Holding her peace, she bit her tongue and stared at him with expectant eyes.
“There’s a… ‘mirror’ that’ll bring you safely through,” he said. “Not really a mirror, but in sympathetic terms it functions as one. It won’t change the way you look when you cross over to my side, since its magic rarely warps and it’s far more powerful than the ordinary mirror magic. It was created for the sole purpose of transporting humans, and so it can carry you through, body, soul, and spirit.” He tilted his head sideways at her and his lips twitched into a smile. “You will be as lovely here as you are over there right now. It won’t take your beauty away from you, I promise.”
Mind your dignity. It’s all you have left for all your ugliness.
An irresistible feeling of self-preservation took hold of Cora, and in the next instant she said: “You come to me, then.”
“I already told you I can’t do that.” He was tamping down hard on his vexation, and failing miserably.
“Why not?” Cora couldn’t help but flare up with a bit of irritation also.
Thaed rubbed his neck, then said, “The magic works only one way.”
Cora stared blankly for a moment. “I don’t believe you. Everything you’re saying sounds too convenient.”
“You have an incredible knack for paranoia.” He grimaced. “But I warned you earlier: I knew you would react this way. Those who created the magic portal made it one-way only on purpose, and there’s nothing in my power I can do to change that. I can’t override another man’s magical engineering.”
Cora thought there might have been a capital-T in his use of the word “Those”, but wasn’t sure. After a long and drawn out silence, she asked, “So where’s this portal?”
Relief softened the hard edges on his face. “It’s the well. The same one behind your house.”
“You mean… the one I threw Mr. Philips down?” The pitch in her voice climbed high in disbelief, but Thaed’s expression did not change. He wasn’t lying to her—at least not as far as she could tell.
“It was constructed with an ancient power that displaces one person from your side of the world and brings them over to mine. You dropped that old man down the well, and I hauled him out of mine with some rope. He is dead—twice dead—and I’ve buried him in the yard and not left so much as a marker to identify him. That means no one can implicate you, since he cannot be found.”
“But… how?”
“I can’t explain how the portal works, if that’s what you mean. All I know for certain is that it works. If you jump down yours, I will pull you out myself, and I will marry you, and I will never let you go from that day forward.”
“But… you know magic. How can you not know how the portal works?”
“You know arithmetic, but that doesn’t mean you can explain to me how a building is constructed. I’m not a magical engineer, Cora. I didn’t build the portal, and I couldn’t build one now even if I wanted.”
She dug her chin in. “But if I go down…” She leveled her gaze with his intense stare. “…I’ll die.”
“No. I knew you would think so, but you won’t. I promise.” He combed his fingers through his hair, smiling in a way that was meant to reassure her. “I warned you, that you would suspect as much, thinking maybe I had ulterior motives. But I promise you that’s not going to happen. You will not die.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t. But if I wasn’t certain—” he paused at that, then reassessed what he was saying “—I would gain nothing and lose everything if you died. Please understand. Magic can feel counterintuitive—just the same as how our love feels insurmountable and even impossible at times. But that’s what makes it magic.” He leaned his elbow up against the glass, speaking low to make his words sound more intimate and conspiratorial. “If it made sense, it wouldn’t be magic—it wouldn’t be love.”
Entranced, Cora took an involuntary step towards him. She felt like no one in the world was as romantic as him, and nothing in the world felt as right as yielding to wishes.
Clearly he was head-over-heels in love, and he would never jeopardize her life because of that love. His sincerity had stood the test of time, and he never betrayed any feelings of disgust.
Thaed loved her, and that was all that mattered. No one in her life had ever been in love with her before.
“Alright,” she said at last.
“Then you’ll do it?”
“Yes, I will.” Cora shut her eyes, trying to stop herself from shaking. “But—I have one question.”
The muscles in his face tensed perceptibly. “Ask me anything.”
“What would happen if you jumped in?”
He made a sound, half a snort, half laughter. “I’d die from drowning, trying to get to the other side. Simple as that. Apparently, the well was used from your side to exile traitors and anyone who practiced magic. Witch trials—inquisitions—that sort of thing. Ironic, really, men using magic to banish magic. But once the exiles were thrown into the water, there was no way for them to return. In those days, we accepted the outcasts here on our side—or so I’ve heard.”
“It’s not like you had much of a choice,” she whispered softly.
He smiled faintly, acknowledging her timid retort. “You’re smart, Cora. But really, the exiles could’ve been murdered or deported to another country, instead of being welcomed.”
She had the faint suspicion he was being sarcastic in calling her smart, but wasn’t sure. She was still skeptical of his intentions, and he detected that underlying level of uncertainty in her face.
“I had a friend who was in love,” Thaed said. “He was heart-sore for a girl from your end of the world, and he was angry that he couldn’t have her. He was desperate to find a way to get to her. Luc was his name. He sought the council of many mystics and mages, but only one of them was able to provide any viable advice.
“Everyone in the village knew about the well, but no one knew how it worked or how safe it was to travel by. As you can probably guess, Luc was beyond caring. He was sick with the brain fever that comes from love, and he was willing to risk his very life if it meant being with Malin.
“I tried to interfere, but there was no convincing him out of his ideas. Like you, the girl he loved lived on the other side, in another world that he could see into. Malin was in love with him as well. She was also only eighteen years old—like you—but she lived with her parents in a little cottage built far away from the town proper.
“The well in
question was on my property. Luc begged me to allow him passage, but I refused. I didn’t care what a mystic had told him; I knew it was far too chancy for it to even be worth trying. But he kept insisting he was willing to die for even the smallest possibly. I could not gainsay. Everything I said sounded like foolishness to him, just like everything he said sounded like foolishness to me. It would be worse than death—he told me—if he was forced to watch her be betrothed to another man who could touch her skin and kiss her lips. He plainly said that he would kill himself—but still, I was unwilling to enable him.
“The next day, Luc went missing.” Thaed pushed his eyebrows close together at the remembered pain. “It was only later on that day that I saw the lid to the well had been removed. A broken rope was looped around a stone meant to secure him from falling. Still, he must have fallen. Luc was dead.”
“How did you get him out?” Cora asked with her eyes widening.
“I managed to get a loop around his neck.” Thaed grimaced sourly. “Not a pretty way to fish a man out, but still, it worked. Malin was heartbroken when I told her.”
“She must’ve been devastated.”
“She was so ruined by it that she thought it would be a good idea to die in the same way.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No. A Romeo and Juliet complex, I suppose. She tried to kill herself. Malin dove into the well. Down she went. But, to her surprise, she broke through the waterline here on my side.
“Until then, there were only rumors that the well worked one-way, but now I finally had proof.”
“Were you able to get her out?” Cora was leaning forward, leaning on his every word.
“No.” He frowned and shook his head. “She killed herself soon after by repeating the exploit. She couldn’t go back the way she came, and so on her second try she drowned.”
Speechless, Cora sat back on the sofa.
Thaed concluded the account by saying, “I buried them together in the same grave. That is one good thing that came out of it, I suppose. They’re together forever now.”
