Mirror Mirror - Part One

With deep and heavy breaths I slowly drag my way through the halls of my tiny apartment, my slender arms having grown exhausted by having to carry home my latest find at the second-hand store. The hardwood floor creeks and whines as wood grinds against wood with each of my heavy heaving pulls of the large object bound up in various cheap blankets.

In my off time I had taken up a new hobby, traveling out of the city to scour small second-hand shops for hidden gems and unnoticed marvels. While for the most part I had been unsuccessful, only finding things like watches that turned out to be knock-offs and some old yet worthless books, this latest trip had been a wonder.

Around an hour from the city I had been checking out a small store, finding mostly the same items that most wouldn't be able to pay you to take away. However, scrunched in the back corner along with other dropped-off items that had yet to make their way into the shop proper sat a large and ornate mirror that simply spoke to me.

It seemed older than practically anything else I'd seen in all my trips looking for discarded treasures, let alone in this one store. It was positively massive, a huge full-sized mirror framed in a deep red wood that was masterfully carved. The bottom of the frame took on the shape of billowing smoke, the base forming a teardrop before spreading out into wavy wisps as the effect climbed the sides of the mirror pane. The top shifted from the naturally wavy and indistinct shapes into something more solid, a set of large bold antlers wrought from the wood itself painting a majestic image in red mahogany.

Brushing my fingers over the crystal clear image of my own reflection I could practically feel my fingers tingle with excitement, I simply had to buy it. While I was expecting the price to be astronomical, my mind braced to haggle, the store owner offered it up for a ludicrously low price. Apparently, it had been dropped off quite a while back. However, due to the sheer size of it she hadn't moved it to the shop floor. If I was willing to move it myself and cart it away she was willing to let me have it for a steal.

Without even thinking twice I slapped the cash on the table, completing the sale with a firm handshake as I painfully carried the mirror to my car. Thankfully, the store owner brought out some blankets to wrap up the mirror, protecting the shimmering glass pane in the center as I wrestled the massive thing into my car before driving home.

While the drive home was joyous, a grin being spread across my face as I basked in the glow of my first truly great find, if I had known of the mirror's history and true nature I never would have touched the thing let alone bring it home.

The ornate mirror had an extraordinary history beyond the mere masterwork of its antique frame. While it had certainly seen much, the truly interesting stories of the mirror were all tied to its original purpose as the vessel for a great and powerful curse.

The mirror itself had never been wrought by craftsmen's hand, having been made whole cloth by the sorcerer behind the curse whose name had since been lost to time. From the perfectly clear pane of mirrored glass to the eye-catching woodwork that evoked a mixture of smoke and antlers wrought masterfully and artistically from the deep red wood that made up the frame, each element had been chosen to allure the eye of the curses intended target.

For weeks the beleaguered and frail mage shaped what would become the mirror, his careful spellcraft eventually leaving him with the perfect vessel for his well-laid plans.

For decades he had been persecuted, chased across the lands by the King's men and the peasant mobs that feared him and his arts. So much of his life had been wasted merely attempting to survive that he had decided to get that time back and then some. With the old king having past his young son was to take the throne, with lavish gifts from across the land and neighboring kingdoms arriving to welcome his coronation. It was here that he would strike, taking back the time he had lost along with the kingdom itself in one masterstroke.

As he organized for the mirror to make its way to the palace he performed one final ritual, ripping his spirit from his body and housing it in the mirror itself. He watched the world through the reflection of others as he was carried to the palace, making sure to remain still as to mimic the motion of those on the other side automatically rather than giving away his presence.

Days passed as he waited in the mirror, eagerly running the plan through over and over in his head. Once the new king touched the pane of glass itself the connection would be made, a subtle one from spirit to spirit that would fuel the theft of the kingdom. That evening, using that connection, the sorcerer would creep from his hiding place before pulling the would-be king from his own body with the help of one of the many spells etched into the mirror. He would then force his way into the newly vacant shell as the mirror claimed its prize in the king's soul, the curse requiring that someone remained in the mirror at all times.

It was all so perfect, he would have a kingdom at his youthful fingertips while the king would be trapped behind the mirror and forced to watch as his life and kingdom were usurped by the one his father had so hated. Despite the obvious delicious cruelness of trapping the young king inside the mirror it was also essential to his plans, the sorcerer would need what knowledge he could wring from the young man if he were to keep the masquerade going for any real length of time.

However, fate would have other plans for the greedy mage. As the mirror made its way through the throne room the new king was indeed impressed by it, demanding immediately for it to be taken to his chambers. As the mage waited eagerly for the king to come and inspect his gift a young demure chambermaid entered the room, eager to please the new lord of the castle as she freshened his quarters. It was as she too become lost in the marvel that was the mirror that she reached out, feeling a short shock as her fingers brushed over the fine woodwork and the crisp perfectly smooth pane in the center.

The sorcerer could feel the connection being made, the link becoming forged with some young peasant lass. Seething and wanting to scream he realized the error in his plans, that in so ensuring his work could not be undone he had made this link unbreakable until the deed was done.

As day soon turned to night he crept from the mirror, his spirit floating towards the young woman sleeping on the floor of the hovel she called home. She didn't even have a chance to scream as the sorcerer reached inside of her, pulling her spirit free. Despite her begging and pleading the old man continued his work, knowing it would be either this or nothing until the young woman passed away and the link was broken. Slowly but surely he forced himself down into her, sliding in tightly through the now-empty vessel's mouth as it convulsed and shook wildly. The last he saw of the world before being overcome by the slumber entrapping the young woman's body was the sight of her weeping spirit being dragged back to the castle and her new home in the mirror.

The next morning the old sorcerer turned young chambermaid woke to the sound of his flimsy wooden door being smashed in. Before he could even come to terms with his new body and the simple rags he was dressed in he found himself being dragged out by a group of guards from the castle. His mind raced as he tried to work out what had happened, had the chambermaid stolen something? His blood ran cold and his heart hammered in his bosom faster than it had in years as he was brought to the king's chambers.

As he was thrown inside, the door being slammed shut behind him, he watched as the young man that he had intended to be shifted from his pompous stance to one that seemed on the verge of tears as he begged for his body back. It was then that it all became clear, while the sorcerer had made the spell work for him, making it impossible for the trapped spirit to return to its own body, there was nothing to keep that trapped spirit from moving to another one if a third person were to touch the mirror and make the link.

Composing himself, carrying the poor young lasses body with greater dignity and poise than she ever did, he calmly explained to her the situation and that he would be eager to resolve it. However, as he attempted to undo his own work, at least to a limited degree, he found his powers had left him. This chambermaid had never practiced the dark arts, never performed any rite or ritual, she was devoid of the gift he had so freely given up for a kingdom and revenge.

Defeated, the sorcerer admitted his folly to the new king explaining that they were in fact trapped as they were. In a fit of fury, the young chambermaid called the guards back in, banishing the sorcerer as to never have to be reminded of what she had lost.

While the kingdom continued as it always had for some time the cracks soon began to show, the meek and vacillating ruler that now sat on the throne could not hold sway and soon the realm fell into revolt and war. The sorcerer, however, lived out the rest of his days far from home maintaining appearances as a bonnie young lass and one day wife and mother as he fumed inside over what he lost in one simple blunder.

Over the centuries the mirror passed through many a household and through even more hands, each time leaving a new spirit in the mirror and another filling a new pair of shoes. While most merely stumbled onto the curse others used it to their own ends much like the sorcerer, planning to gift it before trapping themselves in the hopes of stealing a life out from under another.

Sweating heavily, my arms and back aching, I finally finish dragging the mirror into my cozy yet somewhat messy room. Nestling it in the corner between the wall and my overflowing clothes hamper I quickly pull off the blankets and take a step back, collapsing on the bed as I look at myself in the reflective surface.

It was truly amazing how flawless the mirror was. Despite its age and having been covered and manhandled while coated in blankets that couldn't be called clean by any stretch the mirror itself appeared perfectly crisp and clear, with not so much as an unsightly smudge on its surface.

The rest of my day went by in a tired and dreary fashion, the effort expended in dragging that thing up several flights of stairs causing my body to simply beg for an early night. Despite my best efforts the siren song of my bed calls for me soon after sundown, my aching body collapsing into the large king bed I had managed to squeeze into the room.

I'm suddenly roused from my sleep by the frosty feeling of something ice-cold grazing my leg. Blinking rapidly in an effort to get my bearings, my sleep-addled mind struggling to kick into gear as I shift about in a half-awake state, I squint into the dark room. The dim light of the moon and street lamps illuminating the road below paint my room in a subtle light, barely enough to see my surroundings.

My heart skips a beat as I stare above me, my vision of the ceiling being obstructed by the faint translucent figure of a...