“Mirrors as we are accustomed to them are a relatively modern invention, and yet they hold a special place in the philosophy of our minds. It is said the Altians had mirrors long before other cultures, largely due to the influence of the dragons. The mythos of the mirror lies at the very heart of their belief system, inseparable from the very reality of the world.”

~ Bek Trent, M.A.S.O

Mirrors.

Why mirrors?

“Does Seijelar know why?” Bek asked aloud, stroking Skourett’s bony skull. The dragon thrummed pleasure, but its answer was not the one he wanted to hear.

“She does not.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” Bek said, rubbing his hands down his face. Skourett had no answers for him. Neither did Silver’s crimson hatchling, who remained coiled up with the other hatchlings several feet away. He could feel Seijelar’s eyes on him.

“Dreams,” the crimson dragon finally growled. Bek waited, expecting more, but none was forthcoming. His expression must have made his frustration clear, because an oily plume of black smoke billowed from the hatchling’s nose slits. “I see her dreams sometimes, human. This is a gift between us and your kind. She does not remember, but I do. I do not understand them, but I have never felt such vicious heartbreak.”

“Is it a fire, Seijelar? You hadn’t met her yet when she first encountered the Zara,” he noted wearily. He was surprised when the dragon blinked slowly, a gesture he had learned to recognize as disagreement in the hatchlings.

“Miles of nothingness, human. Miles of nothingness, a sky like iron, all the blood of the earth. The shadow of death, everywhere, and a room amidst it all. A room with a doorway that watches, like the veil the humans have cast over this place. Who can look on the heart of all things and not wake cursed?”

Sara had taken a sudden interest in Silver when she heard something similar. A room of endless possibilities. Bek did not like the sound of it at all.

“You know where we’re going tomorrow,” he stated, looking at Skourett now. The hatchling nudged up against his chest, its head large enough to topple him over.

“We know. But Illian asked us to keep his secret for now. He does not want to be overheard.”

“No, I suppose he wouldn’t,” Bek agreed, pushing the beast away so he could stand. Thanks to the dragons, there was one more stop on his list tonight. As he left, he met Seijelar’s gaze for a moment, knowing the dragon understood. Silver needed the hatchlings now more than ever.

It did not take him long to reach Sara’s workshop, the door left open to the cool evening air. Sara looked up as he entered, clucked her tongue, and then went back to packing a thick paste into a series of tins. “More errands from Illian?” the old woman asked sharply. “Cevora already told me you’ll be taking one of my apprentices. Here for the other one, hmmm?”

Bek closed the door slowly behind him, feeling the witch’s gaze come back to him suspiciously. Cara was out. He could sense that the workshop was empty except for the two of them, but he still asked, “Are you alone?”

“What do you want?” Sara asked carefully. She had stopped what she was doing, narrowing her brown eyes at him.

“I want to talk about Silver.”

“Course you do. Everyone does.”

“Cevora,” he observed. Sara nodded, dropping the wooden paddle she had been holding on the table with a clatter.

“She seemed convinced Silver isn’t fit to do much of anything, hmm. I set her straight, despite myself. I won’t be sleeping for a week with Silver gone,” Sara said, sounding tired.

“You took a sudden interest in her, Sara, after she mentioned her dreams to you. I want to know why.” Bek leaned on the door, arms crossed, watching her. Sara snorted, but it was a nervous sound. Still, she hid it well.

“I needed a third set of hands, and Silver needed my help. There’s nothing more to it than that. Exchange of services. I don’t know about where you come from, but that’s how it works here.”

“But you do know where we come from, don’t you? I can tell,” Bek observed.

“It was hardly difficult to figure out, hmmm,” Sara growled, “Illian’s a sly bastard, but I’m no spring chicken. I know an Atlantian when I see one. And I know a Wanderer when I see one, too. You can’t waltz through time without drawing attention.”

Bek raised an eyebrow, waiting. Sara tried to ignore him, picking up the paddle and decisively filling a few more tins. When he remained, she finally barked, “By the keliarns’ stars, you’re not making this easy, boy.”

“Answer my question,” he ordered.

“The bells,” she pointed at the silent copper bells strung up near the window, “you don’t seem to know what purpose they serve. Most people don’t. It’s a witch’s art…most people don’t want to know. More’s the pity,” she wheezed, “if they knew, ghostspeakers would have an easier time of it. The bells ring when the spirits are moving nearby. The places Silver described aren’t part of this world. She needs to stop sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong, hmmm.”

Ghosts. Spirits. Things the MASO in their modern day hardly even had an official stance on. Bek already did not like where their conversation was going.

“Why didn’t you say anything to us that day?” he asked, dropping his arms.

“And risk making it worse? The only thing worse than being too open to the spirits is knowing about them,” Sara exclaimed, “Getting involved with ghosts is a death sentence. And that’s if things go well, hmmm. They’ll drive her insane. Take it from an old witch. I’ve seen it happen. You make darn sure she’s drinking that tea, boy. I told Cevora to remind her.”

Sara became extremely tight-lipped after that, and Bek had heard enough to let her be anyway. He strode back out into the night alone, hand at his throat absently.

This, absolutely, had to be the reason the Zara had come after her. It explained so much. Even the mirror. But he had no idea what new challenges it would bring.