“You know her?”
“Aye. As do all in Eldris, though few have been so fortunate to have met her personally.” He inspected her. “She bows to the Tyrant, as all must to retain their freedom. But her power is vast, and she aids us in the ways she can. If she sent you to him, I have to wonder why.”
Thia brushed a rogue curl off her forehead. “If her intentions weren’t altruistic, she didn’t say.”
Perhaps he sensed her defensiveness, because he gave her a brief touch on the shoulder. “I believe you. And I am sorry to pry. As I said, most people that come here are running from something. We learn not to ask painful questions. But we are also under constant threat, and I have a duty to protect my people. Can you understand that?”
“Yes.”
“Then is there anything else you can tell me about what you know, or how you came to be here under such mysterious circumstances?”
She couldn’t see a reason not to tell him. And he knew far more about this world and the Mage King than she did. If she was going to find her way out of Black Forest, she would need help.
She told him about the storm and the mirror. “Callista said it was a portal. She was fighting a witch, and I crashed into it on the way down.”
His brows rose. “A witch? So it’s true that you killed Asha Würmheart.”
“Not exactly. She fell after we collided, and the nÿgens got her.”
She expected disbelief, but instead Pagdan said gently, “That must have been terrifying.”
Having that acknowledged demanded Thia consider it, and her throat burned. She coughed to clear it. “Callista stopped me from crashing to my death. She told me the only way I could return home was if the Mage King used his power to send me back. Then Asha’s sister showed up, and I ran until Dess found me.”
Pagdan stroked his beard, black with just a few hints of gray. “I want to thank you for trusting me with your story,” he said. “I will guard it well, as I do the tales of all those who come under my care.” He stilled, focus intensifying. “But I must caution you against your plan to seek the Mage King. Even if Callista is right, and he could help you, you can examine the faces of those here to know that he would not.”
Goosebumps crawled over her skin that had nothing to do with the night air. “Is there…no other way?” She hated how small she sounded. “I just want to go home.” How young and afraid.
His mouth twisted in sympathy. “Not to my knowledge.” He stood, offering a hand to help her up. “But you are welcome to stay here. We are in need of your skills and, as I said, it is a good life. You will not be the only one to have lost a home.”
The lump in her throat grew. Her home wasn’t lost.Shewas.
When the first tear fell, she was grateful for the dark. She managed to stifle the rest until he left her at the cabin’s door, and then she sank to the ground sobbing, unleashing every feeling she had shoved down since the moment she’d broken through the mirror.Wake up,she commanded herself, squeezing damp eyes shut.It’s not real.
Her breaths tumbled faster.Wakeup.
She opened her eyes, begging to see home. Instead she just saw the same ruddy hut. She fell forward with a cry, hands digging into the dirt, and the shard slipped over her neckline to tumble onto the ground beside her fingers.
She pushed herself to her knees, pulling the twine over her head. Lungs shuddering, she wiped her wet cheeks in frustration.Find me in the mirror.
She rubbed the glass, breathed on it, then rubbed it again.
CALLISTA.She screamed in her mind.WHERE ARE YOU?
Another sobbed racked her frame. If not for the twine Callista had wrapped around the shard’s jagged edges, she would have cut her hand. As it was, her ruined palm shrieked in agony as she clutched the piece a little too tightly.
The glass rippled like the surface of the sea.
“Callista?”
But it wasn’t Callista. It was Grandma Winnie, pouring herself a glass of wine.
“Grammy!” Thia sobbed, holding the glass to her face. “Grandma Winnie!”
Her grandmother didn’t turn. She placed the bottle of white back in the fridge and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Then she put a palm on the fridge door—no, on the picture of Thia clutching her first-place science fair ribbon that was taped to it. Water pooled in Grandma Winnie’s gray eyes.
“Grammy,” Thia croaked, tracing the image with her finger.I can’t lose you too.What anger she bore mingled with despair.
The image was fading. Thia shook the shard, trying to bring it back, but it was no use. Her grammy slipped away, until only her own reflection remained.
