36: The Tailor, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

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 "Mirrors, Mirrors, on the wall," came a smooth and gentle woman's voice from above, "who dares enter my sacred hall?" Atop two massive curved staircases stood a fierce woman dressed in a gilded rose-gold dress

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 "Mirrors, Mirrors, on the wall," came a smooth and gentle woman's voice from above, "who dares enter my sacred hall?" Atop two massive curved staircases stood a fierce woman dressed in a gilded rose-gold dress. Upon her beautiful arms rested many fine and sparkling bracelets. The rings on her fingers and the tiara on her head glittered bright with rubies. Her flawless light brown face and dark brown eyes stared down at Owen and I. "How curious? In all my years and all the faces I have seen and all the people who have graced my halls, none have ever been as strange as you two." She stepped off the staircase. Instantly mirrors lifted from the walls and began to float around the woman's head. Vanessa curtseyed.

"Oh great beautiful Madame Beatrice, I bring you travelers from the outside."

"Welcome, children," said Beatrice with a smile. "And what are your names?"

Owen and I exchanged glances. He swallowed and spoke.

"My name is Owen and this is my sister, Hope."

"Do you think me a fool, boy," said Beatrice sternly. "I can easily see through your lies and your fear." Her feet slid across the floor as she approached. "I know what lurks in your mind. I am a witch and all witches are ugly. Born from corruption witches gain twisted bodies, elongated bones, boils and warts, raspy voices, and dark penetrating eyes. Caste as evil, creatures of malcontent and so hunted down and burned." Beatrice laughed. "No need to fear children. While I may be regarded as such, I am no witch. I am the humble spirit of this oasis in an otherwise desert of death. Lost souls find their way to my home, and I protect them from the ravishes of time and the cruelty of the world. Now I will ask again. Who are you?"

"My name is Hope Martinez," I found myself saying. "And this is my Glasswalker, Owen."

"I thought so." Beatrice waved her hand and the mirrors around her floated towards me. "I'm sure you're wondering how can a person of your power cast a reflection. It is a simple bewitching spell to hide no secrets even those of great gifts."

"How may I ask did you know what I am?"

"Your eyes, child, are the windows to the soul. They tell me all I need to know. Blue as crystal. Cold as ice. Tranquil as the waters of the sea. Radiant and full of light." A mirror passed in front of my face. My turquoise eyes shown within.

Madame Beatrice brought one of her long-nailed fingers to my chin and raised it into the air. She studied my face.

"So young, and yet so naive to be so powerful. Barely do you know your world and here you step into this one. You have no idea how much strength you possess, how much potential you can achieve had you time to grow and blossom. Someday I fear you will surpass even my power, and I don't take kindly to that." Beatrice took her hand away. "I almost envy you, but thankfully you are far from pretty. So much sorrow in your soul, so much pain. Such things only bring about ugliness." She turned to one of her many mirrors and basked in her glory. "This place would not exist if I became envious of another. I am generous to my people giving them all they need. Food, shelter, security. All in exchange for their undeniable praise and gratitude. I have made a heaven out of this desolate land. I have made the ugly...beautiful." Beatrice turned her head slowly to me. "Welcome, Mirrorbender Hope."

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