The Mirror (Completed)

••• EIGHT •••

Chapter Eight

"A magical spell?" The king asks, simply placing me by his side as the guard stands frail at the door, sensing that his King has become tense. "Those mountains are covered in creatures that cast spells, what makes you think it is of greater power?" He is annoyed that the guard has interrupted the quality conversation we were just having, but I fear that the King knows more about this marble hall than I would like. I came through that marble hall, through that mirror, and I have no doubt that that mirror is how my father also entered this realm. I fear that the King knows more than I would like, aware that this place is how my father entered the realm whose King he would slay.

His eyes meet mine, the universe reflected within darkening, as if some storm, a storm of darkness and destruction coming for the frail worlds is will crush with its power. "My King, the reports claim of some black lightening, striking the marble hall."

The King lets me go, something I had no idea he was capable of from the second he took me. Looking to the guard that shakes in his boots, the King cocks his head to the side, a smug smile pulling at the corner of his lips, fear sinking within my heart. "That is not just some marble hall," he begins, looking back to me as vibrant colors of orange and blue swirl around in his orbs. "It is a temple, one abandoned centuries ago, as well as the one that the cursed bastard came from." The King dismisses his guard, telling him to ready him a group of fifty men on horses, weapons, potions, and a thirst for blood ready in their souls as they will ride out at the end of the day. "Do not fret, Candice, I shall not need your assistance to find this murderer."

He thinks he has found my father, that this sudden activity is due to my father, but I know one thing for sure. I know that this lightening and the magical spells are all due to me. Why? How could I be certain if I have no true understanding on how this world works or what my father is up to? Because I know my father is a smart man, one that would not go back to that temple again...because if he had returned to that temple, he would have come home long ago. And now, with the King whose name I still have no idea of, he thinks he has found my father and that this temple holds the clues. I cannot let him go there without me, not because I plan to escape for that would be stupid to escape into the mirror while surrounded by these warriors the King has just ordered to get ready, but because I could get clues. I could see if that temple holds more than I would think, perhaps clues as to what my father was trying to do here, to study, to explore, and perhaps where he might be, or at least the path he has been traveling.

"That is where you are wrong," I state, standing up before the King as I know that I need to go to the temple. I need my answers and perhaps even an escape from this man's domain. "You need me, your majesty, because I am one of the few who can understand this horrid man's language."

What do I mean by this? I left my father's journal there, I had completely forgotten it in the temple when I had woken up. I was not holding it when I woke up there on that marble slab, but I know it must be there because I woke up with my clothes, my shoes, everything I had on me, meaning that the journal my father worked so hard on must be there too. I can read Idunian, Soka pointed that out, but I doubt these people will be able to understand English or even the hints of Arabic my father wrote in that journal. My father spending much of his time in the Middle East and out of that, a passion for the language of Arabic, even teaching me the language at a young age. The King and his men will have no clue how to read it, and while I may not tell them exactly what it says, it gives me the upper hand at finding my father, I can use it to my advantage and lead these men away from my father's trace while I can find him quicker.

"The language? So, you have come across this man's transcripts before?" the King asks, crossing his arms as he stands tall before me, his shadow falling over me as I know I have to think fast here. As a child I was a great liar, always able to get away with things. I got that skill from my mother.