The Angel of Elydria (The Dawn Mirror Chronicles Book 1)

by A. R. Meyering

  The lights swarmed Deimos as he flew forward, crystallizing into a golden bubble around his body. The fragments sealed themselves and everything went silent for a second before Deimos thrust his sword forward and pierced the golden bubble, ripping a wound in its shimmering side and causing white hot veins to course through the sphere.

  “Seival protect us!” Hector yelped, leaping backward as Deimos tore out from the center of the bubble, heaving the full weight of the sword at Hector’s head.

  Annette screamed as Deimos brought the razor edge of the blade down toward Hector’s skull, but Hector crouched and tossed up his hands, his palms sparkling with runes as he used the last of Simon’s magic to arrest Deimos’s movement in midair. Simon stumbled as he struggled to stay conscious. Deimos’s expression of savage dominion changed to one of abject confusion.

  Hector shoved his palms at Deimos, throwing him back into the wall where his head collided with stone. Deimos slumped down the wall, his blade clattering to the floor. Annette limped forward and landed a heavy kick to the side of Deimos’s head, causing his good eye to roll back.

  The three victors stood wheezing over Deimos’s crumpled form, expecting him to shudder to life once again. Simon was the first to stumble backward and lean against the wall for support. His face was pinched, and he looked as if he were just holding onto consciousness after the large amount of magic Hector had taken from him. Hector stumbled over to Annette, untied her wrists, and looked her over for wounds.

  “You’re okay,” Hector sighed.

  Annette swallowed and nodded, hardly daring to believe that she had survived the encounter. She could not begin to understand how Simon and Hector had found her, but it only took a few moments for the gratitude to come rushing out. She looked at both of them with a quivering lip and tried to form words without success. In a rush of emotion, she lunged forward with her arms spread wide to catch them both in an embrace. Hector whined as she caught him around the middle and squeezed hard.

  “Look, we’re very happy you’re safe, but we need to get out of here―urgently,” Hector reminded them, looking down the hall in the direction they had come in. “I’ll just target Penelope and Argent with the spell and―”

  “Hector, wait!” Simon shouted, his voice echoing as he pointed to the opposite end of the corridor, where a line of four doors could be seen. Hector didn’t seem to realize what he was supposed to be looking at and glanced back at Simon, nonplussed.

  “Don’t you remember what Della told me? ‘The right-most corridor and up the stairs’! I think this is what she was talking about―”

  “Oh, of all the idiotic―” Hector cried.

  “No, no, no! I’m serious, I have a really good feeling about this. Come on, let’s go!” Simon gestured for them to follow, but Annette stopped, putting her finger to her lips.

  “Are you sure it was the right-most?” she croaked. “I could’ve sworn she―”

  “No, I’m positive! Please, let’s not waste time!” Simon did not wait for them to agree and galloped toward the door farthest to the right. Hector sighed and they trailed Simon, plunging blindly into the darkness that lay ahead.

  Stay close, Penny. You don’t want to get lost in this,” Argent warned as they stepped into the crowded street.

  The lane was hung with paper lanterns and gaudy decorations. Carnival booths lined either side of the street, and between them a heaving mass of bodies awaited the appearance of the king. The flashes of bright color from fireworks and the menagerie of grinning masks were threatening to send Penny into an anxiety attack. They burst through the thickness of the crowd and retreated into a deserted alleyway.

  “We’ll wait here until the speech is over,” Argent panted, lifting his beaked mask to wipe the sweat from his brow. Penny saw unmistakable fear in his eyes; their chances of getting away unscathed were starting to seem slight.

  “Argent…if they…if they don’t come back after tonight, promise not to leave me, okay? I don’t think I can―”

  “I’ll have none of that,” Argent snapped, his sharp tone catching Penny off guard. “They’ll be fine. And what do you take me for, anyway? I would never abandon a friend. Now shut up and see if you can spot anything out there.” He pointed to the street and replaced his mask.

  Penny smiled behind her mask and poked her head out of the alleyway to peer into the crowd, feeling her heart almost stop beating as she came face-to-face with Phobos. He was crossing through the group of people when his eyes fell on Penny. She gasped and shrunk back into the shadows of the alleyway. Argent bristled at once, sensing something was wrong. Before Penny could explain, Phobos’s shiny bald head bobbed into the grimy alleyway. His shoulders hunched over as he approached Penny and Argent.

  “Hello, little brother, little sister. Why so sneaky-sneaky, eh? Shouldn’t you be out watching for dear old King Yulghrat? You know it’s dangerous for humans in Hulver right now,” Phobos reminded them in his wavering voice.

  Argent grabbed Penny around the shoulders, and she allowed herself to breath, realizing that Phobos had not recognized her thanks to the mask.

  “Just wanted a little privacy is all―if you catch my drift,” Argent said, gripping Penny a little too tightly to be natural. Phobos looked down at Penny and then raised his eyes at Argent, a lecherous glint playing in them. Penny noticed with a shiver that Phobos’s mitt-like fists were covered in bulging veins and flexing at his sides.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Might as well enjoy yourselves while there’s still time…” He laughed his whining, high-pitched simper and turned to leave. The hulking man took a few steps forward, and then stopped as if a thought had occurred to him. “By the by, seen any other humans around, by any chance? I’m looking for some friends.”

  “No, sorry,” Penny said at once.

  Phobos’s forehead pinched in confusion at the sound of her voice and his eyes unfocused. He looked back at Penny and she felt Argent’s grip on her shoulder become almost painful.

  “Say that again,” Phobos hissed.

  “Wh-what?” Penny stammered. Phobos’s wide eyes pierced through her, and then in a violent, jarring motion he ripped Penny’s mask off and crushed it in his hand. Penny gasped as his eyes ran across her exposed face and understanding dawned.

  “I knew it! You’re that little grub from the Ball!” Phobos roared with a manic grin. Before he could move, Argent threw Penny backward and the Lady and Hyde came shooting out of his pockets, claws extended. Phobos intercepted them in midair, throwing both aside with one swoop of his bulky fist.

  Penny retreated as the puppets soared forward again. The needle-sharp claws did not seem to faze Phobos even as they scratched scarlet lines into his bald head. He stalked forward with a dangerous smile and swung at Argent’s midsection, throwing countless swaying punches, but Argent was too quick for him. Over and over he sent the puppets at the giant of a man, smashing them into Phobos’s face and tearing at his hands, but Phobos did not even wince. Penny shivered behind him as he fought, looking for opportunities to help but seeing none. Argent seemed to grow more uneasy by the moment and Phobos picked up on this.

  “So pale. Pale as a ghost. I’ll catch you, Mr. Ghost, I’ll catch you, I’ll break your toys, and then I’ll break you,” Phobos taunted as he jabbed forward, his fist grazing the very tip of Argent’s crooked nose. The puppeteer bared his teeth and jumped back, using the Lady to help him make a high jump into the air and sail like an acrobat over Phobos’s head. As he slipped behind him, Argent landed a quick kick to the back of Phobos’s bald head.

  “You can’t hurt me, Mr. Ghost. You’re only making it harder on yourself.” Phobos reared back like a bull about to charge and Argent commanded Hyde forward to act as a shield, gripping the control with white knuckles as Phobos slammed into the enchanted marionette. Phobos was knocked back a foot.

  “Run, Penny, run now!” Argent cried. Penny tried to protest, but Argent reached back and pushed, forcing her into a run.


  Phobos was too fast. “Not so fast, little grub!” he shouted with cruel delight, clamping so tight onto Penny’s hand she was sure it would be broken once he released it. She shrieked as Phobos yanked her backward across the ground like a ragdoll.

  Argent ran at Phobos, now sending the Lady out, her claws extending into talon-like appendages as she aimed straight for Phobos’s throat, hitting her target with a sickening sound. His grip relaxed enough for Penny to withdraw her hand, which felt as if it had been filled with broken glass. She stumbled to her feet and ran down the alley, reaching the end before she found she could not bear to leave Argent at the mercy of the murderous Phobos and turned back.

  Phobos had ripped the Lady’s claws out of his throat and clamped his fingers around her tiny frame, using enough pressure to crush the life out of the puppet. Penny stopped, horrified. A bluish soul escaped into the air as the husk cracked and was crushed to pieces. Argent dropped the now useless control as Phobos tossed the puppet’s limp remains to the ground and wiped the blood from his throat. As the puppet master fumbled to grasp Kasper’s control, Phobos flew forward and threw his fist straight into Argent’s face.

  Argent’s mask shattered on contact and Phobos’s fist followed through the shards, hitting Argent with enough force to send him sailing into the alley wall. He collapsed in a silent heap beside the piles of garbage and filth.

  “NO!” Penny screamed, unable to stop herself from running back in the direction of the crumpled mass that was Argent. Before she could even get halfway, Phobos turned to face her, his face splitting into a wild-eyed look of excitement. Penny slowed as he ran toward her. She tried to reverse direction and felt his body slam into her, both of his giant hands catching her shoulders. She kicked at his shins, but it was no use. Phobos’s shrieking laugh tore at her ears as he picked her up like she was a child.

  “Help! Somebody, please!” Penny gasped, screaming as loud as she could with the crushing force of Phobos’s hands clutching her.

  “No one can heeear you!” Phobos cackled, and threw Penny onto his shoulder as she kicked and beat at the sides of his face. Phobos stalked down the alley toward Argent’s still body and Penny could see an angry red mark forming where Phobos had punched him. There was no sign of life from her friend as Phobos stepped over to Argent, still clutching Penny on his massive shoulder.

  “Mr. Ghost should really start living up to his name, don’t you think? Let’s free him from his body so he can get some proper haunting done…” Phobos said with relish, releasing a peal of whining laughter.

  Penny screamed Argent’s name, willing him to wake as Phobos lifted his heavy leg and prepared to bring it smashing down on Argent’s head. Frantic, she reached out and scratched at Phobos’s eyes, feeling her fingernails scrape the soft whites. He howled and dropped Penny, grasping at his face. She hit the ground, her chest seizing as she struggled for air. Phobos tripped backward and away from Argent, removing his hand from his face and looking at the spatter of blood that stained his sausage-like fingers in shock. Penny crawled along on her elbows toward Argent and felt a fierce kick to her side. She curled into a ball as lines of electric pain shook her body.

  Phobos loomed over her. “You had to go and make me mad, didn’t you? Bad move, bad girl. Bad, bad, bad…” He leaned forward and put his hands on either side of Penny’s throat, not yet touching her, his fingers shivering as they threatened to clamp down at any moment. A tornado swirled in her mind as he brought his face closer and smiled, his lips twitching. A crescent shaped wound of scarlet floated in one of his eyes, making him look even more terrifying.

  “I know my brother probably wanted to question you, but he’ll have to get used to disappointment, won’t he? It will just be too delicious to feel your neck snapping like a pofflin bone, I think,” Phobos whispered, his voice wavering up and down.

  Frozen in fear, Penny was unable to even think as his hands flexed, ready to squeeze the life out of her. Everything around her was too ugly, too ruthless, and too disturbing to process. She shut her eyes, waiting for the pain to come, to hear the fragile bones in her neck splinter and break apart under Phobos’s iron-strong fingers.

  It will all be over, everything will end and I won’t have to be afraid anymore. I won’t have to suffer the pain of losing Annette―of losing Hector, Simon, and Argent. I won’t even have time to regret that I’ll never see home again…I’ll never see the sun again…

  Death is easy.

  Then, with a bell-like sound that cleared her mind of all discord, it was as if the solution had been injected into her head. Penny’s fingers flew forward, grabbing at Phobos’s hands before they could crush her throat. The white flash came even before Penny summoned it.

  At a thousand bursts a second, images began to shoot out at her from Phobos’s mind. It was not a single memory that Penny saw, but multitudes, flashing by in a rush. Feelings of crippling terror, oppressive paranoia, and anxiety barraged her. Images of Phobos confined in a dank room, chains binding his arms as he wandered around in circles in the dark, trapped―no way to escape from his head, tortured by a demon that inhabited his body. Things crawled deep within his skin; he was so small, too small. His words would never come out right even though they made so much sense inside his mind. The whispers exploded in his ears, coming and going in waves, lucid moments only made worse by the horror of knowing that the madness would come again, everyone’s eyes looking on in fear and repulsion. The mind and the body belonged to something else now, the soul trapped, buried deep within.

  As the images and sensations became more oppressive and violent, Penny desperately willed to distance herself from the whirling memories. The urgency brought out a control over her power that she had never before experienced. She felt the memories barraging Phobos now, but she had separated her mind from his, though she still clung to his trembling fingers. Phobos was wailing, the inhuman sounds revealing his inner torment.

  Phobos flung himself backward, ripping and tearing at his head as if trying to extricate the maelstrom of memories. With a final push of energy, Penny severed the bond between them, feeling control and clarity flow back into her with a powerful snap. She looked in shock at Phobos writhing on the ground, clawing at his head and screaming. In a fit, he slammed his bleeding head on the ground over and over until he lay still, a thin trail of crimson flowing out into the tiny cracks between the stones.

  Penny stood shivering, feeling her chest fill with a quivering, newfound empowerment. She took a deep breath and steadied herself, then tiptoed around the area where Phobos lay. Gathering what was left of her strength, Penny lifted Argent off the ground with an almighty heave and proceeded to drag his debilitated body down the alley, grateful the crafter was so skinny. With great effort, she tugged him into the street and the bustling crowd, where she laid Argent down beside a booth overflowing with toys and fireworks and sat with her head between her knees, gasping as the shivers died away. This must be what David felt like after he took down Goliath.

  In the distance the crooked clock tower began to sing. Penny’s eyes snapped open again as the resounding voice of the bells echoed out over the city, loud enough to shake the ground where Penny sat. The crowd began to cheer and call out as the bells rang and a fanfare blasted out from goblin trumpeters. Penny watched as more fireworks shot up into the air from somewhere behind the palace, lighting the sky so it seemed as if daylight had returned early. Midnight had come.

  Deep within the halls of the castle, Simon came to an abrupt halt, holding out his arms to stop Annette and Hector. A strange sound was resonating throughout the castle walls.

  “What is that?” Simon murmured in alarm.

  “Bells. It’s bells,” Hector hissed. “It must be midnight already―we need to get out of here.” He took the lead. The darkness was unrelenting and the feeling that something might be waiting around every crooked turn tortured Hector. It wasn’t until ornate candelabras still burning the stumps of candles began to appear that they all started
to breathe easier.

  Rounding another corner, they came upon a flight of steep granite stairs leading to the palace towers. Beside the stairs on either side towered two large potted plants that appeared to be quite overgrown and unkempt, as if no one had pruned them in a long while. Simon shook with excitement, pointing ahead.

  “Della talked about these stairs, too! We must be going in the right direction!” Simon headed up the stone steps at a swift pace, a hesitant Hector and Annette in tow. The stairs led to a room that was pitch black and empty, save for a small crack of light coming from the door standing ajar at the end of the chamber. A faint noise could be heard coming from behind it.

  “People are cheering out there,” Annette mumbled, her worried face caught in the sliver of color that severed the gloom. She pushed the door aside, letting a blast of blue-purple light flood into the room and illuminate the three of them in a mysterious glow. Flashes of white and gold flickered in as the sound of fireworks exploded above.

  Hector caught sight of what was beyond the door and knew that they had made a grave mistake. Perhaps a hundred feet away, the doorway opened out onto the balcony, decorated with purple draperies and a bone-colored throne, upon which sat the massive form of the Goblin King. Concealed behind in the shadows was Valentine, holding a control similar to the ones Argent used for his puppets, only quite a bit larger. As Valentine commanded the King’s clumsy movements, she spoke into the silver bowl she held in her other hand. Her words boomed out from the body of King Yulghrat in a deep voice that spoke to the cheering crowd in Gobblish.

  Beside Valentine stood Cyrus, his body stiff as a corpse, with the string of an eidolorbe wound around his one organic arm. The chain that ringed his neck dragged across the floor to the other side of the room, where it was held by the Angel Nestor himself, concealed from the balcony behind a purple curtain. His great white wings shuddered with agitation as he watched Valentine manipulate the dead king into making his speech. The Angel’s long and terrifyingly beautiful face displayed only the most delicate hint of discontent, his eyes narrowed to slits. Annette caught sight of them and made a small choking noise, backing up into Simon. Nestor’s head shimmered to the side, his white hair stained by the blue light from the balcony.