In the city of Dingars lives a young man, in his twenties, with dark hair and brown eyes, nothing special, the only redeemable for male standards was his decent height of meter and seventy-nine centimeters and his good figure from so much training. His name was Gregory.
Gregory's days passed with a sweet and calm regularity, he sometimes forgot about his work while he was doing it because of it. In the morning he wakes up in his humble little room that Anna rents for him at the back of the tavern, puts on his boots, looks at his half-grown beard in the mirror —he didn't see the need to cut it until it itched —, rinse his teeth with water and then grab one of the loaves from the basket that Anna leaves in front of his door each morning as he walks out the back exit.
Contemplating the square bathed in the serene early morning always cheers him up a bit, the dim lights of the lamps lit last night becoming less and less prevalent as the sun rises, the fallen leaves of the trees and the presence of that unfortunate old man of Ekhar taking a walk are details that he likes to experience, to take advantage of, because not everyone wakes up at that time, he doesn't share that.
He raised his hand to greet Ekhar and approached the mirror two meters high and one wide in the center of the square, sighed and took a firm step across. No matter what, his insides always twist when doing it, the visual discomfort generated by crossing does not last that long, yes, would rather not feel it, so it is a pity that closing your eyes doesn't help.
Once on the other side, he appreciated the atmosphere with a bite of his food. A small outdoor park, with flowers of various colors and the lack of presence that you will surely miss soon. He walked along the rocky paths to exit the park and then turned left from the nearest three-story house, slowly he reached their house.
A wooden house, simple on the outside, a single door and a circular window to the left of this covered by a curtain, the most remarkable thing was the pair of gardens that they had on each side of the stone path that led to the entrance, on one side the plants were no more than a week old and on the other there was a full-fledged fruit bush surrounded by tulips and a giant lily behind.
Before Gregory touched the doorknob, the window curtain fluttered and someone immediately opened the door. The little girl with brown hair straight and wavy at the ends of her smiled excitedly and her little blue eyes sparkled with warmth.
"Greg!" The girl exclaimed and she ran to hug him so fast that she hooked on Gregory's leg. "What are we going to do today?!"
"Well…"
"Can I try to cross the mirror?!" The girl released his leg and with a confident grimace she raised her fists in front of her. "I'm sure I can today! You know? Yesterday when you left I almost could."
"Well, you have to try today without a doubt." Gregory reached down and stroked her little head.
The eight-year-old girl wore on top of her a dress of her favorite color —cyan —in one piece and a ribbon that she herself wore since she had five in her hair, that now no one congratulated her for do it; it still fit her well.
"I'm going to wake up Samy!"
—Wait Melody! Gregory grabbed her shoulder. "If Samantha is asleep you should leave her; we can wait her inside."
"B-but then it's your turn to go to work." Melody pouted moving from side to side stretching her dress.
"I'm free today too."
"Seriously?!"
"As long as nothing happens, they won't call me. Besides," he waved the bread basket with a jocular smile. "I brought breakfast."
"Yay!"
They both entered the house after Melody take the basket and carry it using both hands, ready for a day of fun, the least he could do for his sister's daughters.
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"Like that! Just a bit more!"
Melody imprinted her cheek against the giant mirror in the center of the square without any effect. Frustrated, she backed away and charged into the mirror like a bull to force her in.
"What did I tell you?" Gregory stopped her by taking her dress with the tips of his fingers bent with his hand on his chin and a lazy expression comparable to Layd's as he leaned against Sandy.
"B-but…" Melody insisted on her effort to run, stretching the dress despite not advancing an inch.
"That cannot be forced Melody!" One of the old men sitting on the bench said, enjoying her tenderness.
The square was packed with people, for example, that pair of children playing catch, a mother with a baby in her arms or the man with a straw hat resting in the shade.
"Obey Gregory," the old man's wife said with a cup of tea in hand. "He knows what he's talking about."
"You heard Mr. and Mrs. Sakdar."
Melody fell sitting with her arms crossed with a pout, her little eyes began to tremble and anyone with a minuscule experience raising girls would understand that she was soon going to cry, even if she was strong in the outside. Gregory sighed, getting through the mirror requires a decent amount of experience using the soul, it's not like an eight-year-old is a veteran of the subject.
"I brought Uncle Greg lunch."
A teenage girl with reddish brown hair at the waist approached that pair, on top she wore a white shirt with red sleeves up to the elbow, brown shorts a little above the knees and matching ankle boots of that color that they covered half her shins. She carried a few pastelitos — fried wheat dough with flavor fillings —in star shapes and a rectangular pair three times the size.
"Thank you Samantha."
"What happens to Melody? Here" She offered him one of the large pastelitos.
"Well…" Gregory took a bite of the pastelito.
"The thing is…! The thing is…! Greg is a lousy teacher!" Melody exclaimed furious.
"H-hey!" Gregory tried to allude to a second chance, but Melody let out a "hump" and turned her face away from him, leaving him desolate.
"Uh… Is that true Uncle Greg?" Samantha questioned in a teasing tone and a childish smile.
"H-hey…" the poor man stammered.
Samantha gave a little jump towards Melody, who turned away from them angrily, and from behind her she lowered her head with the basket of pastelitos on her back, Melody saw the wonderful golden eyes of her older sister and lost that false facet moody to them.
"Come on Melody, Uncle Greg is not sooooo bad teacher."
"You're not going to convince me Samy, I'll find another teacher!" she sputtered and closed her eyes to avoid seeing her.
"Oh well, I guess I won't give you Cindy's special pastelitos." Samantha straightened up and deliberately passed the basket with the hot aroma in front of Melody.
"A-are they stars shaped?" Melody opened a tempted little eye.
"I guess I'll have to tell Cindy you don't like them anymore, too bad."
"W-wait!" I want to." She said the last like a baby.
"These were paid for by Uncle Greg, they're not mine," she warned as she took a bite out of one of those star-shaped pastelitos.
"Okay, Greg can still be my teacher," she gave in to the blackmail. "But I want you to help me get there before the new moon!"
"Deal!"
Melody took the basket with the little star pastelitos and with an immense shine she began to nibble little by little, with an adorable smile on her face. Meanwhile, Gregory pondered what just happened seeing the face of his niece —Samantha —with half a cupcake in her mouth, who would say? He has no opinion about it ...
"Melody," Gregory said.
"Yes Uncle?" She answered, softened by her favorite food.
"Didn't you say you almost made it yesterday?"
"Umm, yeah!"
"How it was? Did you do something different?"
Melody placed the cake in the basket and ran animatedly to the mirror.
"I did this!"
She stretched out her index finger to touch the mirror.
At first nothing happened, but instead of feeling bad, Melody kept in mind the image of the cupcakes, the warmth of her aroma and that brought back a memory that she knows little about.
One afternoon, sitting on a woman's soft, spongy legs while a man in an apron complained about oil splashing all over him. That always caused her grace, strange tranquility and at the same time familiar.
All that happened in her mind, fast, imperceptible to her.
The mirror then reflected the gleam of her soul and lit up from there, deforming like liquid.
However, the slings suddenly reversed and Gregory, realizing it, got up quickly and carried Melody in his arms to drive her away.
"Hey!"
Gregory ignored his niece's complaints and backed away.
The shirtless boy emerged from the mirror, carrying Airys on his shoulder.
"Who is she Zamir?"
"Mr. Gregory," he lowered Airys to the ground. "I present you the thief's accomplice."