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“Go find him, he’s waiting for you.”
I didn't know what she meant, but I knew I had to find out. As I approached the mirror again, my eyes fixated on my reflection. The twinkling lights overhead flickered and dimmed, casting a soft glow across the room. A strange urge washed over me, compelling me to reach out and touch the glass. My hand trembled as I drew closer, the tips of my fingers brushing against the cool surface of the mirror.
Suddenly, a loud, piercing sound filled the room, like shattering glass. I recoiled in shock, my heart pounding in my chest. Looking up at the mirror again, I saw that it was now cracked and splintered. My reflection distorted in the fractured surface as it spidered webbed across it. I stumbled backwards, my heart racing. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to change.
Without thinking, I stepped closer to it. As I peered into the fractured glass, I saw a figure standing on the other side. It was a male, tall and handsome, with white blonde hair and two mismatched eyes.
“Come to me,” he whispered, his voice like velvet. “I have the answers you seek.”
I reached out to touch the glass again, but the figure on the other side disappeared. Pieces of glass broke away instead, leaving me alone in the dark with nothing but the sound of my own breathing. But then I remembered the feeling of being lost and alone, and a sense of urgency washed over me. I took a deep breath and stepped through the opening, leaving behind the earth carved room.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
SERRA
As the glass fell away, I gasped at the suddenness of it. My hand jerked back as if I had been burned, recoiling from the shards that were now scattered around my feet. I gingerly stepped down from the gilded frame, the crunching sound of the broken glass under my shoes an unpleasant reminder of the shattered mirror.
My heart was racing as I looked around, trying to make sense of what had just happened. The room had changed, somehow. The air was thick with the scent of roses and lavender, and the soft cushions of the settee gave beneath my weight as I sank down onto it. I felt disoriented, as if I had been transported to another place entirely. The feeling of déjà vu washed over me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I had been here before, that I had experienced this moment in some way.
My mind was racing, trying to make sense of it all.
Was I dreaming?
I’d seen this room before. Before me lay a long corridor. The dark wood panels that made up the walls with the deep burgundy carpet, silencing my steps as I walked. Despite the tall cathedral-high ceilings and exposed beams (now home to the swallows and bats,) they weighed heavily on the space. Taking a couple more steps into the room, uncertainty set me on edge. Glancing back behind me at the frame I had come out of, the mirror was pitch black.
The room I was in, and the room I had come from was dark; No light filtered in, and no sconces had been lit. Casting an eeriness upon everything. It was as if nothing had changed, the space was filled with frames, every inch of the paneled walls.
The same ones from the vision.
Portraits and landscapes, battle scenes and tapestries- hundreds of them. This wasn't just a corridor I realized; it was a gallery. A private one. Dozens of portraits of Fae nobles lined the walls. The room had not been touched in quite some time. Dirt and cobwebs littered the frames, white sheets hung over the furniture in the room. As if it had been covered and no one was expected to be back in some time.
I walked further down the corridor, taking in the details of the portraits. The Fae nobles depicted in the paintings were dressed in elegant clothes, their expressions stoic and unreadable. I wondered who they were and what their stories were, but I had a feeling that I would never know. The silence of the room was oppressive, the only sound being my own footsteps and the occasional flutter of wings from the birds and bats overhead.
As I approached the end of the corridor, I noticed that there was a door, slightly ajar. I pushed it open, revealing a small room that looked like it had once been used as a study. A large mahogany desk dominated the space, with a tall-backed chair behind it. The room was filled with books, stacked haphazardly on every surface. The smell of old leather and paper filled my nostrils.
I walked over to the desk and looked at the papers scattered on top of it. They were old, written in a language that I didn't recognize. There were also ink bottles and quills, as if someone had been using them recently. But who could have been in this room? And why had they left in such a hurry?
As I looked around the room, I noticed a map on the wall. It was old, the colors faded, but it was still legible. It was a map of the fae lands, with different kingdoms and territories marked out. As I studied it, I realized that I recognized some of the names of the places. They were the same ones that I had seen as a little girl. I’d seen this map more than once, each time. . . each time I had been in this study.
There was a feeling like I was suddenly on the brink of a discovery, but I didn't know what it was. The feeling of deja vu that had been with me since I entered the room intensified, and I knew that I had to leave. I carefully closed the door behind me and walked back down the corridor. As I passed by the portraits once again, I couldn't help but feel like I was being watched.
Walking along, my feet muffled on the carpet, the faces stared back at me. My attention waning as a portrait at the end of a long line caught my interest.
The subject looked familiar. A young boy, barely able to stand. A navy-blue dress suit and red sash across his torso. Blonde hair and bright blue eyes. I knew those chubby cheeks. Remembered them.
Aden. My brother.
The brass plaque at the bottom read:
That wasn’t right. Aden Octavius Marcelle Darthordian? No, that was wrong. It was my brother in the portrait, but something was off, not just with his name, but with his ears. They were tapered, coming to a delicate soft point. “That’s not right.”
Confusion and longing battled inside me. Our family name was Harlowe. Not Darthordian.
“This has to be some vicious joke.” I muttered, catching sight of another painting. Next to the painted portrait was another Fae noble, a name on a brass plaque at the bottom of the frame:
Not just a noble. Royalty.
Astraea Irene Linnea Darthordian.
