In the dance of shadows, truth hides in reflections.
George and the old man usually met in the utmost secrecy in a private meeting room at Babel. Naturally, few secrets remain hidden from an informant. Before the two hunters arrived, I snuck into the room using the fae ring and waited, leaning against the wall in a favorable corner. I almost held my breath when the door suddenly swung open.
"We need more information," Gábor Roubál said with icy calm and sat at the head of the table.
Willingham pressed his lips into a thin line but also took a seat. For long minutes, they stared at each other in silence.
"It's obvious that he robbed the Crosspherat," Willingham suddenly burst out. "He unleashed a beast that is killing dozens of people! The camera footage indisputably proves it! The Crossferat will soon take steps to find him, and when the time comes, they'll come for the mixed-blood too!"
Gábor Roubál gripped the armrest of his chair so tightly that his old fingers turned white.
"Understand, George, he is family too," the old man replied.
"Are these your wife's words?" Willingham shot back, adjusting his glasses.
"My wife has nothing to do with this," the head of the Roubál clan waved dismissively. "Many in our family like him; if I hand him over, they won't take it well."
"You're right, but perhaps even more hate him," George added. "Besides, if you don't hand him over, our family's loyalty will be the least of our worries."
"Aside from the worst-case scenario of facing the Crosspherat themselves, what do you think will happen if he takes the throne?"
The old man merely waved dismissively.
"You know well he's close to it!" Willingham insisted.
"If he wanted it, he would've taken it long ago," the old man declared. "I'm not changing my decision: until we have clear evidence that Shaytan broke into the Crosspherat building, we do nothing."
"Just answer me one last question, Gábor," Willingham began with thinly veiled anger. "Why can't you accept reality and make the right decision?"
The head of the family stood up, but before leaving, he shot a hard look at the man.
"Even if he is a mongrel, he's my blood, George."
I clenched my pendant in my fist, my hand shaking. At that moment, I understood that I was trapped in a situation with no way out.
I knew I hadn't left any traces that could lead to suspicion. Ábel couldn't be the killer; he was lying in a coma—but I had to keep that a secret at all costs. If the Crosspherat found out how effective the poison the boy's body had produced, they'd want to experiment on him. No, no, I knew even then that it was safest if they believed he was like an ordinary vampire.
Since I wouldn't reveal this—Ábel would be immediately executed, and I would be imprisoned for freeing him. I took a deep breath and calmed my heart before it could break a rib or two. I leaned my back against the wall and closed my eyes. I concentrated with every nerve fiber. So, what now?
After George left, the old man remained. For half a minute, he said nothing, simply sitting at the table.
"Come out and sit down," Gábor finally said, his voice authoritative.
I was caught off guard by his awareness of my presence, but then again, he was the strongest hunter in his prime. I turned the fae ring on my finger, revealing myself. Slowly, I approached him, taking a seat across from him at the table.
"Surprised I knew you were here?" Gábor asked, a slight smile playing on his lips.
I shrugged. "You were always perceptive."
Gábor leaned back in his chair, studying me with those sharp, experienced eyes. "Tell me, Shaytan, what brought you here tonight?"
I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. "I wanted to understand what you planned to do about Ábel. He's innocent, old man. We both know that."
"Yes," he answered flatly.
I clenched my fists, struggling to keep my emotions in check. "Then help me. Help us."
The old man sighed deeply. "You're risking a lot. Your life, your freedom."
"I owe him that much," I replied firmly. "He's family."
The old man gave me a long, searching look. He reached into his coat and pulled out a leather folder, placing it on the table between us. He pushed it towards me. "This is everything the Crosspherat has on the half-blood and you. Surveillance footage, witness testimonies, forensic reports. It's not conclusive, but it's damning enough to warrant action from them."
I hesitated for a moment before taking the folder. As I opened it, my eyes scanned over the documents, each page painting a grimmer picture than the last. The footage showed a figure resembling Ábel, the testimonies described a beast that matched his description, and the reports detailed the brutal nature of the attacks.
"This is... a lot," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"It is," the old man agreed. "Use this information wisely. It's your only chance."
I nodded, closing the folder and clutching it tightly. "Thank you."
As I stood to leave, Gábor's expression turned more serious. "Before you go, there's something I need to ask. Do you really want the throne? Is it true what they say about your ambitions?"
I met his gaze, unflinching. "Want it? The throne is already mine. I'm just waiting for everyone else to catch up."
The old man chuckled, a deep, genuine sound that echoed in the room. "Your audacity never ceases to amaze me."
"But for now, I have more immediate dangers to deal with," I added.
He nodded, his expression turning serious again. "Go, then."
I left the room, my mind racing with the implications of what I'd just learned.
When I arrived home, I was greeted by the familiar warmth and the comforting scent of dinner cooking. Rolo and Alex were in the kitchen, chatting animatedly about something trivial. The normalcy of the scene struck me, a stark contrast to the storm brewing outside our walls.
"Hey, Shay!" Alex called out, waving a spatula in greeting. "You're just in time. Dinner's almost ready."
I forced a smile, pushing the heavy thoughts to the back of my mind. "Great. I'm starving."
As we sat down to eat, the conversation flowed easily, filled with jokes and laughter. I found myself genuinely enjoying the moment, even as the weight of the folder in my bag pressed against my side, a constant reminder of the danger lurking in the shadows.
"So, how was your day?" Rolo asked, breaking into my thoughts.
I shrugged, keeping my tone light. "Just the usual. Ran a few errands, had a meeting. Nothing too exciting."
Alex smirked. "Sounds thrilling."
We all laughed, the sound ringing warmly through the room. For a little while, I allowed myself to relax, to savor the simple pleasure of being with my friends. Yet, beneath the surface, my mind was already planning the next steps.
Later that night, after dinner, I excused myself and retreated to my room. The folder lay on my desk, its contents a stark reminder of the gravity of our situation. I sat down, opened it once more, and began to methodically go through each document, committing every detail to memory.
As the hours ticked by, I crafted a plan. A risky one. The only feasible one. When I finally crawled into bed, exhaustion weighed heavily on me. Tomorrow, the real work would begin.
I barely closed my eyes when the soft noises from Rolo's room started to filter through the thin walls. The monster inside me, always on alert, sensed the danger and became hyper-sensitive, making sleep an impossible endeavor.
With a sigh, I threw off the covers and quietly slipped out of bed. I made my way to Rolo's room. The door was ajar, and I could hear the faint rustling of papers and the occasional clink of glass.
I gently pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a desk lamp. Rolo sat at his cluttered desk, surrounded by books and artifacts, deeply engrossed in his research. He didn't notice my presence until I cleared my throat softly.
"Rolo," I whispered, not wanting to startle him. "What are you doing up so late?"
He looked up, blinking as if coming out of a trance. "Shay? I didn't hear you come in."
I stepped closer, glancing at the array of magical texts and ancient artifacts scattered around. "Couldn't sleep. What's all this?"
Rolo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm trying to find something."
"You need to rest, Rolo," I said as gently as possible in my sleep-deprived state.
He shook his head, eyes wide with desperation. "I can't."
Rolo's shoulders slumped, the weight of his efforts evident in his posture. "I just can't stop thinking about it."
"I get it," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "But you have to be smart about this. Take a break and get some sleep. Maybe that will help."
Rolo sighed again, but there was a hint of relief in his expression. "Alright. I'll try to get some rest."
"Good," I said. Fucking finally.
As I turned to leave, Rolo called out softly, "Shay?"
I looked back at him, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"Is there something wrong?"
I froze for a moment. Then I smiled reassuringly. "No, why ask?"
He shrugged. "You seem tired."
"Because I can't sleep due to your rustling," I rolled my eyes. "So go to bed already."
I left his room, closing the door quietly behind me. The monster within me remained alert, but its restlessness eased as I returned to my own room.
(...)
I found myself standing in a chamber filled with mirrors, each one reflecting a different version of myself. The air hummed with an eerie stillness as if time itself held its breath within these walls. I stood still for a second surrounded by infinite reflections of myself.
Approaching the first mirror, I hesitated before the glass. Each mirror shimmered with a faint, ethereal light, beckoning me to peer into it. As I gazed into its depths, the scene unfolded with haunting clarity.
I saw myself clad in blood-stained armor, standing amidst a battlefield strewn with the broken bodies of hunters and monsters alike. The air reeked of metallic blood, and my eyes burned with a wild, unhinged fury. A chill ran down my spine as I recognized the raw power and uncontrollable rage that defined this incarnation. This was it. This was the beast.
I moved to the next mirror where I briefly paused. The most eerie thing about the image held within was my age. I seemed to be old. Like thirty? This is how I could imagine myself as a thirty years old.
In the reflection, I stood amidst flames that engulfed a desolate landscape of ash and smoke. The air crackled with heat, and my eyes mirrored the burning inferno that ravaged everything in its path. A sense of sorrow washed over me—a world reduced to ashes, where hope struggled to endure amidst the ruins.
Turning to the third mirror, I was met with a scene of solemn unity.
Here, I stood among a gathering of monsters of all shapes and sizes, my presence commanding respect and solidarity. My expression reflected solemn resolve but my eyes seemed empty. I was searching for familiar faces among the monsters but I couldn't find any.
Approaching the fourth mirror, a sense of somber contemplation filled the chamber. In this reflection, I beheld myself seated upon a throne, bearing the weight with weary determination. My face bore the marks of countless decisions and sacrifices made that made me look even older than the previous ones.
I stood before the fifth mirror, my own reflection shimmering before me with an ethereal glow. The mirror beckoned, its surface swirling with arcane symbols and faint whispers that seemed to echo through the chamber.
I extended my hand tentatively toward the mirror, fingertips brushing against the cool, smooth surface. As my skin made contact with the glass, a ripple of energy surged through me, tingling with ancient power. The mirror seemed to come alive beneath my touch.
A voice—distant yet familiar—echoed in the depths of my mind, urging me to remember.
Moments stretched into eternity as I stood transfixed before the mirror. The chamber hummed with arcane energy. With a final surge of determination, I withdrew my hand from the mirror's surface, the visions fading into wisps of ethereal mist. The chamber returned to its quiet stillness, all the mirrors reflecting the same: only my own image.
I woke with a start, my heart pounding in my chest. Blinking away the remnants of the dream, I found myself in Rolo's cluttered room. The air was heavy with the scent of old paper and faint traces of magical residue.
I intuitively looked down. I was holding an artifact. It was a simple hand mirror, cracked down the center with delicate tendrils of silver snaking across its surface. I reached out to touch the mirror, my fingers tracing along the cool, smooth glass. Unlike the mirrors in the chamber, this one held no shimmering reflections or arcane whispers. Instead, it showed nothing but my distorted face.
"Shay!" Rolo's voice reached me like a distant echo, pulling me back to the present moment.
I blinked, still disoriented, as I became aware of Rolo's presence beside me, his expression a mix of concern and apprehension.
"Shay, what happened?" Rolo's voice was urgent, his eyes searching mine for answers.
I struggled to piece together the fragments of memory that flickered at the edge of my consciousness. "I don't have a clue."
Rolo's brow furrowed in worry as he examined the artifact. The mirror, now devoid of the mystical glow that had filled it moments ago, seemed ordinary once more. He reached out tentatively, running his fingers along its cracked surface as if seeking answers within its fractured reflections.
"It's an ordinary mirror now," Rolo murmured, more to himself than to me. "Whatever energy it held has dissipated."
I struggled to recall the details of the visions that had swept through my mind. Faces, landscapes, and emotions flickered like shadows just beyond my grasp. "I saw... different versions of myself," I murmured, frustration tinging my voice.
Rolo's eyes widened slightly at my words, his mind undoubtedly racing with theories and possibilities. "Shay, do you remember anything specific?" he pressed.
I closed my eyes, attempting to summon the clarity that had eluded me. "There was fire," I began slowly, images beginning to coalesce in my mind. "And battles... and a sense of loss."
Rolo studied me intently, his worry mingling with curiosity.
"So, the mirror showed you different scenarios," Rolo mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It aligns with the ancient runes on it. I've been studying them for a while."
I nodded slowly, absorbing his words.
I glanced at the mirror, now lying dormant in Rolo's hands, its cracked surface reflecting only the dim light of the room. "What do you plan to do with it?"
Rolo looked up at me with a wry smile. "Well, you owe me an artifact. This one has no use anymore."
"Sorry," I said and he shrugged.
That was the day Rolo started to lock up his artifacts.