Hushwood

viii. the mirrorwood

Tobrym squared his shoulders and slipped through the mirror's liquid surface.

A shudder passed through him as he stepped from one world to the next. He could feel his very being disintegrating and then rearranging again; it felt wrong, as if something inside of him hadn't been put back together correctly. He was a puzzle with pieces in the wrong places, and his heart pounded a foreign rhythm within his chest.

He reached the other side and caught his bearings, feeling dizzy and disoriented. He looked up, his amber eyes burning golden in the silver darkness.

The only colors he could see were shades of red, black, and grey. The trees on this side were different, with blossoms of the deepest crimson. They had thorns.

Whispered lullabies echoed faintly in the distance, quiet and ominous.

Tobrym took a breath; the air felt heavy in his lungs. There was no sign of Ari's presence—just footprints leading away. No sign of the reflection, either. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Tobrym pulled out the iron dagger. Definitely bad.

He began to follow the footprints, remaining wary as he went. This forest was full of mirrors, and through them he could see his own world—pale and blue, like a lovely, dying butterfly whose color had just begun to fade away. He was careful to remember which one he'd come through. He wasn't going to take the chance of stepping through the wrong one and winding up in yet another realm parallel to their own.

The footprints wound through the trees, seeming to take no particular path. Still, he had no choice but to follow them. Ari's or not, they were the only lead he had.

A sudden hiss split the air behind him. He spun around just in time to see a semblance of Ari—one of the reflections—lunging at him with claws outstretched. He slashed at the air with his knife, dispelling a wave of dark smoke, and the creature vanished with a scream. Even more on edge than before, Tobrym continued, now aware that these woods were teeming with monsters whose only desire was to bring him death.

The trail of prints continued. Tobrym fended off two more attacks, the second of which left him with a nasty scratch on his arm. His sleeve was in ribbons. Clenching his teeth, he banished the pain and went onward.

He only dared to look up once. There were no stars in the veiled sky above—not even a moon. Just terrible, crippling darkness.

"Tobrym?"

Ari's voice.

"Tobrym, is that you?"

"Ari?" he whispered, feeling a frightening glimmer of hope. She sounded as if she were in pain. "Where are you? I'm coming."

"I-I'm over here. My legs, they're—I can't move. Can you follow my voice?"

"Keep talking."

He searched through the trees, leaving the trail of footprints behind. Where was she? "Ari?"

There was no response.

Too late, it dawned on him. Something grabbed him from behind, yanking his arms behind his back and snarling in his ear. Arienne's raven curls tickled his cheek. No—not Arienne's. Her reflection's.

A storm of anger swelled within him. He kicked at the creature holding him, fighting his way free. It seethed, swiping at him with vicious claws. "Silly boy," it whispered. "It's rude to come by for tea without an invitation."

"It's rude to kidnap innocent girls," muttered Tobrym with a tilt of his head, stabbing the thing in the stomach.

It arched its back, crying out as its eyes and hands turned to smoke. The rest of it swiftly followed, swirling around Tobrym, like a dying breath made visible. He stepped away from the hostile mist, shaken slightly. He knew that the thing wasn't really Ari, but seeing it, seeing her, falling apart and dying before him—

He cracked his neck, forcing the thought away. Focus. Ari.

It took him a time, but he found the footprints again and followed them, urgently this time. He needed to get out of this forest as soon as possible. It was too dangerous.

The trail ended at a clearing. There she was—lying on her side, facing away from him, as if sleeping. He rushed to her and checked her heartbeat. Steady and strong. She was still alive.

Tobrym pressed the flat of the blade to Ari's hand, but she didn't react, and the metal didn't burn her. Human. He lifted her in his arms and turned. The danger was halfway over.

"Don't worry, Ari," he said under his breath, gripping her and the knife tightly. "We're going to be fine."

He followed the footprints back the way he'd come. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. He counted habitually as he walked, ticking out a number with each step he took. He knew that it meant nothing—mere words were useless against the dangers of the forest, and they always had been, never mind what the elders said. But he tried anyway. He needed something, anything, that promised even the slightest ray of hope.

There it was—the mirror he'd come through. He quickened his pace. They were so close to safety, so close.

"Silly, silly boy."

Tobrym cried out, halting and bowing his head as a jagged bolt of icy pain shot up his arm. He tried not to, but he dropped Arienne, unable to support her weight. Turning, he saw the face of one of the reflections, its ebony eyes glaring venomously at him. The creature's clawed dug into his skin, and he shouted again, losing his grip on the knife.

More and more of the monsters appeared from the trees. There were so many of them—dozens. Too many to count. Tobrym's vision flickered as the one before him smiled maliciously. "The cäerthlinn has come." The words hummed through the woods, spoken not just by one but by all of the reflections, a dull chant that brimmed with power. "The cäerthlinn has come."

The sound was like a vibration, beaming out across the forest. Not a threat, Tobrym realized fleetingly. A message. They were calling to someone—or something.

Tobrym was outnumbered. Trapped.

One of the reflections seized him, cupping his face in her hands, her touch almost gentle. He gasped as his vision shuddered violently; darkness descended like a lens. Images flashed rapidly before him. He saw a white tree, its blossoms pure and still and very old. Tobrym, murmured a voice. Then the tree was gone, and Tobrym saw roses, red as blood.

Black eyes were before his own, staring at him with unfathomable rage and hate. "You are not welcome here," the thing whispered.

Arienne's face—she cried uncontrollably, tears streaming freely down her cheeks, her raven hair in disarray. He stirred, feeling a need to reach out to her—comfort her—but suddenly he was very still and silent, and a heaviness filled his limbs, and he was so very tired...

There was a scream. Then silence.