Fae Mirrors

Banner Imagery: AI-directed. Story and world: original creative work

Nyra was as ancient as the giant oak Wyrmwood, but today was the first day she felt her age. She climbed out of the glen’s tranquil pool where she had been bathing and journeyed through the trees towards Mistbloom’s heart. She needed to confer with the Wyrmwood, the most knowledgeable of trees. Nyra was a dryad, a nymph, a tree spirit, one with the forest, as much a part of Mistbloom as the ancient oak itself.

When she reached Wyrmwood she was dismayed. Its majestic boughs were sagging, leaves spiraled down around her like golden tears. Death should not come to this, the very nexus of life. She merged into the tree’s bark, feeling its embrace; an embrace which normally revitalized her, lifted her spirits, and allowed her to connect with the entire forest through the roots which spread outwards deep and wide. But today she felt nothing, as though the Wyrmwood was distracted, its thoughts elsewhere.

Deeply concerned, Nyra bounded through the trees towards the Sacred Grove. Other dryads called out at her passing, but she didn’t slow to answer. If anything was wrong with the Wyrmwood the entire forest would know about it soon enough.

She arrived at the Grove, pushing through an ivy curtain and looking at the heartwood mirror, a fae relic left behind from an era when even the Wyrmwood was a sapling. She peered into the looking glass, and what she saw made her leap back in shock. For the face
which stared back at her from the mirror was not her own.

Fen, a mire witch from Silvermoss swamps, peered through the mirror and looked upon an unfamiliar face very different from her own. Whereas Nyra was calm and serene, Fen was chaotic and wild, and while Nyra radiated serenity and thoughtfulness, Fen threatened unpredictability and brashness.

“Who are you?” Nyra asked. “What are you doing in the mirror? Are you harming the Wyrmwood?”

“Who am I?” Fen repeated. “I might ask you the same. It’s you who appeared in my mirror. Today, when a blight threatens Silvermoss. I ought to extract you, to be rid of you.”

“Wait. I’ve heard of this Silvermoss. It is many miles away. I’m in Mistbloom.”

“The forest. I know of it, across the Arcanium Peaks. But the mirror has never formed a link before. This is trickery. Fae magic. Is it your doing? What are you, a nymph?”

“Yes. You may call me Nyra. Who are you?”

“A mire witch, and should I need to, I could pluck you through this mirror and fill your mouth with peat.”

“I sense a deep anger in you.”

“My marsh is being polluted, and there is a stranger in my mirror. You sense correctly.”

“Look,” Nyra said, “Let’s see if we can figure out why we have been brought together. Here in Mistbloom, the great tree is ailing, something is wrong with both our homes.”

This gave Fen pause.

“Hm, then I am not alone in this situation… Let me consult the mirror.”
Nyra watched in amazement as Fen weaved her hands, muttering a quiet incantation. The mirror rippled like water, and its frame glowed. An ethereal voice filled their minds.

“Greetings,” it said. “You have come seeking answers, and answers I shall give. Though the solution is to be your undertaking.”

“No riddles, mirror,” Fen said. “What is causing this, and how can I fix it?”

“Maelor, fae born is the cause. And it is your task to fix this together.”

“Together?” Fen said, “I need no help from a tree spirit. Show me where this fae is, and I will deal with him myself.”

“You need each other if you are to enter the Glimmer,” the mirror said.

“The Glimmer?” Nyra asked.

“A fae dimension. Outside of time. When Maelor’s power reaches its potential, he will be free of his prison. You must stop him. Not only Mistbloom and Silvermoss stand to lose then, but all of Vyrindor.”

“And why us? Why is it our realms being infected?” Fen asked.

“When the fae faded from Vyrindor, two of their mirrors were lost. One in Mistbloom, one in Silvermoss. Maelor has another in the Glimmer. The one he is plotting to escape through, and the one through which even now his magic is leaking.”

“The dryad will only slow me down,” Fen said. “I’ll go alone and take the fae’s head.”

“You are reflected, here. If one of you steps through the mirror, then both of you must. Simultaneously. Otherwise, you will not enter the Glimmer.”

“And why should we trust you, mirror?” Fen asked, bluntly. “Are you not fae yourself? How do we know you do not speak with Maelor’s voice?”

“You have no option but to trust me. Maelor will escape if you do not act. You must work together, and swiftly. It is the only way.”

“We are nothing alike. I’d be better on my own,” Fen said.

“You are mirrored reflections. Two sides of a coin, order and chaos, unity and anarchy, serenity and turbulence, harmony and discord. Only by working together will you stand a chance.”

Fen seemed about to object, but Nyra, using the voice of reason, spoke out.

“And how are we to accomplish this?”

“I am no mere looking glass, but a door,” the mirror said. “You must pass though.” The mirror shimmered.

Nyra hesitated, but the weakening of the Wyrmwood was becoming more evident, so she took a breath and stepped through. Fen, never one to overthink things, cursed and barged
her way through. They stood face to face in a nighttime world, on a vast plain, beneath a shroud of stars with an eerie tower shining in the distance.

ACT 1

They examined each other briefly, Fen was tall and poised with intent; Nyra was sprightly, and nimble. Nyra smiled, and Fen frowned. Then their attention was drawn to the tower.

“That is the source of the blight. We should head there now before Maelor finishes his preparations,” Fen said. Nyra was about to suggest it might be a trap, but the hasty mire witch was already striding off. Nyra shrugged and bounded to catch up.

As they walked, they could hear a deep droning noise growing in intensity, and an eerie pulsing light flickered around the top of the tower. They pushed on, fearing Maelor was close to completing his spell.

They entered a valley and encountered a narrow canyon, lined with vines. “We must go slowly,” Nyra warned. “Something is not right about these vines. They are not themselves.”

“We don’t have the luxury of going slowly. I’ll smite them. My magic has cleared greater threats than vines.”

Before Nyra could object, Fen began launching green orbs of magic at the vines. They hissed and reeled back, leaving a path along which they could walk.

“Quick,” Fen said. “Let’s go.” But like a slug’s feelers that retract and extend upon being prodded, so too did the vines grow back, and Fen found her magic unable to keep them at bay. The vines lashed around her foot, curled up her legs and around her neck.

Nyra, clenched her eyes shut, concentrated, and connected with the vines, finding the source of their maliciousness. With a soothing whisper, she cleansed them. The vines went limp and slowly retreated.

Fen tried not to look shaken. She was not one to give thanks freely, but she did give Nyra a quick nod.

“Maelor must have devised these traps.” Fen said, bitterly. “To slow us down. To buy him some time. We must push on!”

Shortly, they came upon a large circle of standing stones. As they made their way through, the stones began to whisper. By the time they reached the center, the whispers had risen to shrieks. Nyra found herself paralyzed, unable to move. The stone’s shrill cries scattered her thoughts, disrupting her calm with a cacophony of anxious thoughts. But Fen, as always, refused to listen. Her brash nature allowed her to charge forward grabbing Nyra and pulling her along.

They were almost at the tower now, but they had to cross the wide moat using stepping stones. As they walked, dark reflections reached up from the water, attempting to drag them in. Nyra used her steadiness to recognize the patterns, and Fen’s haste helped distract the shadows long enough to create openings.

The nymph and the witch moved in tandem and when they reached the far side, they paused.

“Perhaps this is what the mirror meant by us being opposite sides of the coin,” Nyra said. “I don’t think we would have made it this far, alone.”

Fen nodded, and then pointed at the tower’s doors which stood slightly ajar. “Looks like someone is expecting us. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

ACT 2

Within the doors, a wide staircase spiraled upwards. They didn’t delay and quickly began climbing. In a room at the top, they found Maelor. He was not what they were expecting. Maelor was a small man, with perfect features, porcelain skin, purple eyes, and a whimsical voice. He was sitting in a chair and was smiling pleasantly.

“Ahh, guests. It’s been a while. Come, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll pour some wine.”

“Don’t move, Maelor! We’ve come to stop you,” Fen said, already conjuring a spell.

“Come now, Fen. Do you not know it is rude to insult the host in his own home?” Maelor said, and with a wave of his hand, Fen’s magic faded.

“How do you know my name?” Fen asked.

“I know a lot of things.”

“Why are you poisoning our world?” Nyra asked.

“Your world?” Maelor laughed. “Ah, I suppose you would see it that way. But you are but temporary residents. I was there at the beginning. I helped build it! And now, I want it back.”

“You were banished.”

“Unjustly, I assure you. And now, my dears, it is time for things to be set straight. I was a prince of the fae court, just so you know. Some could not handle my devotion to my duty, my far sight, my ambition. The bigger picture was too grandiose for them to grasp. I was punished unfairly for my vision. But no matter, I am done here. I shall return and you two shall stay. I trust the tower will be to your liking. The views grow tiresome after a century or two, the Glimmer is a drab realm, but at least you’ll have company.” Maelor clicked his fingers and the oak door slammed shut behind them. “And if you think I am poisoning your world, then you have it wrong. It is but a necessary side effect of opening the portal… Once I’m home I will fix it to my liking. Arrange the furniture, dust off the shelves, cast out the junk.”

“We cannot allow you to leave,” Fen said.

Maelor laughed, a musical sound. Almost pleasant if it did not raise the hairs on their necks. “And how do you plan to stop me? A mire witch, and a dryad. An odd team you make, yet I’m impressed you made it this far. I knew you would. That’s why I invited you.”

“You… invited us?”

“Of course. Who else do you think let you in?”

“You were the mirror’s voice?”

“Indeed. I needed someone to clear the defenses. I couldn’t do it myself.”

“The defenses weren’t to slow us down?”

“No, no. They were old magic, keeping me here. But you two saw to that. You have my sincerest thanks.”

In that moment, Fen and Nyra knew they had been doing the fae creature’s bidding from the start. The blight seeping out of the mirrors had been the bait, the mirrors’ voice, a snare. The trials they had overcome to reach him had been the only things keeping him in place.

“You think you are smart,” Fen said with a growl, “but you will never leave if you have no portal.” She grabbed a paperweight from the desk and hurled it at the mirror before anyone could react. “No!” Maelor screamed, as a crack spread out across the glass. “What have you done!?”

His calm facade was gone, his eyes bulged in outrage, and he lunged for Fen, but with the shattering mirror, so too did the world around them break into a million pieces.

Nyra blinked. She was lying on the forest floor, the world still spinning. She struggled to rise and look at the mirror. It had a crack running across it. She could still see Fen on the far side.

“Fen? Are you ok?”

“I think so.”

“And Maelor?”

“I don’t think he got out.”

“Then we did it!”

“As long as these mirrors exist, we are not safe. In the Glimmer Maelor has an eternity to piece together the mirror.”

“Are you suggesting we destroy these?” Nyra asked. “It is the only way.”

While Nyra considered it, she noted that the Wyrmwood was healing. At last, she nodded.

“I doubt we shall ever meet again.”

“I doubt it,” Fen said. “Too much distance separates us. But for what it's worth, I was wrong about you. I should not have judged you so harshly.”

“We made a good team,” Nyra said. “Even if we were doing Maelor’s bidding.”

“I wish you well, dryad.”

“And I, you.”

“Fine. When you’re ready, let’s do this.”

Far to the west of the Arcanium peaks, Fen picked up a rock; far to the east, Nyra found a stout branch. On the count of three, they shattered the mirrors and they lost sight of each other forever.

Realizing what Nyra had done, the other dryads gathered around, thanking her for saving the Wyrmwood. She revealed she had not done it alone and began to tell them her tale. She picked up a fragment of the shattered mirror and held it aloft.
“Each shard is unique,” she said, “yet together, they once formed a whole. Follow your own path, but never forget the strength in shared purpose.”

Nyra’s story became a legend about the importance of staying true to oneself, whilst valuing the difference in others. She lived many centuries more, connected to the life of the Wyrmwood, though she never did see Fen the mire witch again. It is said that Maelor resides still in the Glimmer, piecing together the fragments of the shattered mirror. Though whether any other fae mirrors remain in Vyrindor through which he might pass, there are none alive who know.

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