Prologue - Ghost Stories

The fire flickered in the corner of my vision, flying sparks appearing now and then in the reflection of my father’s eyes – carbon copies of my own. A little smirk was on his face, as if he was already aware that he was going to scare the crap out of us with the story he was about to tell. The wind whipped around wildly, rattling the tent behind my father. I pulled my jacket tighter around me, snuggling closer to my little sister, Ami, who gripped her teddy bear tightly to her chest. He started the story the same way he always would.

“A broken mirror brings seven years of bad luck. A mirror without a reflection brings a lifetime.” He began. I could hear the smile in his voice, through the noise of the crackling fire.

“Once, there was a boy,” he continued, “a teenager, of course – teenagers always seem to be the ones getting themselves in trouble. And, well, was he in for some trouble.

“It started when he was sixteen. On his sixteenth birthday, to be exact. He walked past a mirror, and his reflection didn’t follow. In fact, his reflection wasn’t there at all. He only noticed the lack of movement in the corner of his eye, so he wrote it off as his mind playing tricks. That was, until he went to brush his teeth after his breakfast. Standing directly in front of the bathroom mirror, there was no denying it; his reflection had gone missing.”

“But Dad,” Ami interrupted, which soon became such a tradition that she would say it every time the story was told, “reflections can’t go missing.”

“Ah,” Dad smirked, “but this boy’s reflection did.”

A perplexed look coloured Ami’s features, but she didn’t interrupt again.

“Now, the one thing you do not do, when your reflection has gone missing, is lean close to the mirror. Not—” Dad raised his voice, Ami and I jumping out of our skin as our mother’s laughter floated through the open door of the tent. “—under any circumstance. Do you understand?”

At the time, I never understood why he asked us this, but the two of us nodded anyway.

Dad raised his eyebrows at us. “Do either of you want to take a guess of what he did next?”

Despite both of us knowing the answer, neither of us replied with anything other than a brisk shake of the head.

“Okay then,” he sighed, “intrigued, the boy leant in close to the mirror, a quizzical look on his face. He observed the mirror, and his lack of reflection, for what felt like hours. Then, he gathered up the courage to reach out and touch it.

“As his finger came into contact with the mirror’s surface, it rippled – as if he were touching an upright puddle of water, rather than a solid piece of glass. This prickled his curiosity even more; a mirror that rippled? It was the stuff of fairy tales! Or, so he thought. But he soon came to discover that it was, in fact, the stuff of nightmares.

“After convincing himself there was nothing to be afraid of, he reached out towards the mirror once more. Except this time, he didn’t stop when his hand came in contact with the surface of the mirror. He kept reaching and reaching, until his hand came in contact with what felt like a… tap? A tap. On the other side of the mirror. A thought flickered through the back of his mind; what if something grabbed his hand? Frightened out of his wits, he snatched his hand back through the mirror.

“But curiosity got the best of him. He pushed the thought out of his mind and climbed onto the bathroom sink. Cautiously, he stuck his hand through the mirror once more. Then, he leaned forward, and the rest of his body followed suit. When he gathered up the courage to open his eyes and drop down to the floor, he could hardly process what he was seeing; a bathroom, identical to the one he had just crawled out of.

“In a state of shock, the boy decided that was it. He had had enough of this strange experience. He wanted to go home, whether he had a reflection or not. He span around to face the mirror once more, panicking as he heard footsteps coming closer and closer to the closed bathroom door. Still, there was no reflection staring back at him when he looked into the mirror. He reached out towards the mirror before him – so similar yet so alien at the same time – and let his finger fall onto the glass. Yet, that was all that met his skin. Glass. No ripples. No escape.”

At my shoulder, I felt Ami shudder. I looked down and met her eyes, caressing her arm in a silent reminder that it was only a story; that reflections can’t go missing.

“And that,” my father concluded, “is why you never lean close to a mirror if your reflection is missing.”

“But Dad,” Ami said, a smirk playing around her small lips, “reflections can’t go missing.”

The four of us at the campsite laughed, before putting out the fire and clambering into the tent for the night.

Looking back on it now, I wished Ami’s words were true.

1. The Missing Reflections

 

It started the same way Dad’s story always did.

On my sixteenth birthday, the sun was shining brightly through my closed blinds, making an array of patterns on the carpeted floor. On tired, unsteady legs, I dragged myself across the stuffy room to the window for a breath of fresh air. I pulled back the blinds, prepared to come face to face with a translucent window reflection as usual.

The reflection was not there.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. Don’t worry about it. I told myself. Window reflections depend on the light. Maybe you got up a little later than usual. I nodded. Yes. I must have woken up later. Rubbing my eyes, I pushed open the window, welcoming the wind onto my face. I sighed, my eyes scanning the street below me. It looked the same as always, but that morning, something felt off.

Across the street, the swing set at the park swung an invisible body back and forth, creaking eerily in the wind. The round-a-bout spun around despite being empty, the ghost of children’s laughter and squeals reaching my ears. The wind rustled the leaves on the trees at the edge of the forest behind the park equipment, and as my eyes travelled down the trunk of the tree, I jumped back in fright, twisting myself so my back was against the wall beside the window.

Someone was watching me from beside the tree, their eyes gleaming, a smirk playing around their lips.

In the shadows, I could just make out their features. But— no. It couldn’t be. That would be impossible.

I shook my head as if to clear my thoughts, loose strands of my auburn hair slipping out of their bun and falling around my face in delicate waves. I must have over-slept. I was seeing things.

Turning around, I stumbled into the bathroom. My heart was jumping in my chest as I walked past the mirror, but I forced myself to keep my eyes trained on the ground. I have a reflection. I told myself. I have a reflection. Keeping my back to the glass, I stripped down and had a hot shower in an attempt to relieve my muscles and my nerves. Only the former was successful.

I stepped out of the cubicle, wrapping a towel around my body, and took a deep breath before facing the mirror. The glass was fogged up, the reflection it held only a blur. Written in the fog was one single word in block letters;

Run.

I flinched backwards, my spine slamming painfully into the metal frame of the shower cubicle behind me. I took a few deep breaths, gathering my wits about me. Securing the towel tighter around me, I crept towards the basin, above which sat the mirror. In the blurred image, I couldn’t tell if my reflection was actually there. Hesitantly, I pushed up onto my toes, forcing myself as high as the word written in the fog. What lay between the lines of the word came as no surprise to me.

The mirror only reflected the back wall of the bathroom and the shower cubicle.

I gasped, but forced myself not to flinch away from the glass. As I ran my father’s story through my head, I realised I had to check. He always warned us not to. He always made us promise we understood. But that was when I believed his story to be a work of fiction.

I reached out and touched the glass.

It rippled beneath my finger, and felt as if it were a puddle of water rather than solid glass.

Dad’s story wasn’t just a story, was it? I asked myself, raising my eyebrows.

I took a step away from the mirror and forced myself to get dressed, go down for breakfast, and act like it was any normal day. Accept my birthday presents. Plaster a smile on my face. Pretend nothing ever happened concerning my reflection. When I bounded down the stair case with the fake smile on my lips, I found Dad sitting at the dining table, and Mum and Ami heading to the front door. The two of them turned around as they heard my footsteps.

“Happy birthday, Piper!” Ami called, her smile wide.

Mum smiled over at me as well. “We’re just nipping out to pick up your birthday cake, but we’ll be back soon.”

“That’s okay,” I told her, “take all the time you need.” I needed to talk to Dad.

They said their goodbyes and made their way out the door.

“Are you alright, Pipes?” Dad asked me as I shuffled over to the kitchen. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I-I’m fine.” I cursed my voice as it shook.

I couldn’t see it because my back was to him, but I could imagine him raising a single eyebrow at me. “Are you sure? You don’t sound—”

“I’m fine, Dad.” I insisted.

He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay! I was just checking.”

I couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across my face. “I know,” I said, walking over and kissing him on the cheek, “thank you anyway.”

He smiled up at me. “Do you want to see your birthday present?” He asked quietly, as if he were afraid the walls of the empty house would hear his words. “You can’t tell your mother I showed you, though.”

My eyes lit up and I nodded. Dad stood up from his seat at the table and placed his hands over my eyes before leading me somewhere. When he uncovered them, we were in the living room. Sitting on a stand in front of the television was a brand new silver-burst Gibson Les Paul guitar. I felt my eyes widen as my jaw dropped.

“Dad!” I gasped. “Are you serious? Is this even real?”

He chuckled. “You can go over and touch it if you’re so concerned.”

Hesitantly, I made my way over to the guitar, my hand travelling down the length of the strings and the fret board.

“Go on,” Dad pushed. “Have a play. I’ll leave you two in peace.”

I slid down and sat on the floor beside the guitar, carefully lifting it from the stand. I slid my fingers up and down the strings in awe, desperate to recall a song I could play. It was like when someone asked you what your favourite movie was, and you forgot every movie you had ever seen.

Forcing my brain into motion, my fingers moved over the strings and the frets. I barely thought about what I was doing. Music swirled around the room, bouncing off the walls. Until I heard the crash. And the scream.

Dad.

My head snapped up, my eyebrows furrowed. I placed the guitar on the stand and stood up.

“Dad?” I asked hesitantly.

There was no answer.

“Dad?” I called, louder. When, once again, I wasn’t answered, I inched towards the door of the room, poking my head around the corner. All I could see to my left was the empty hallway. The only thing to the right was a mirror on the wall. Once again, I saw the empty hallway. I was still absent from the reflection. I found myself reaching out towards the mirror, slipping my hand through the veil between my world and whatever world waited beyond. I snapped out of my reverie as I heard a bigger, louder crash, and a louder scream. A bloodcurdling scream. My curiosity towards the mirror shattered, and my legs forced my body forwards, running.

I skidded around the corner, barely stopping myself before I could tumble into a pile of rubble. My eyes scanned the room in earnest, hardly able to comprehend what they were seeing. The staircase leading upstairs had collapsed. It was completely obliterated, looking as if something incredibly heavy had been thrown into it. Hesitantly, I stepped around the fragments of wood and concrete, my eyes surveying the room for my father. The kitchen cupboards and drawers were all agape, some drawers pulled out onto the floor, their contents pouring out onto the linoleum, some cupboard doors barely still on their hinges. I made my way around the mess of kitchen utensils until I found the knife block that had been strewn onto the floor in whatever commotion had occurred. I looked around once more before ducking down and grabbing one of the larger knives from the block.

“Dad?” I called out, my breath catching in my throat as I stood up.

I heard a strangled cry from the study and ran to the doorway off the kitchen, the knife held tightly in my fist which I hid behind my back. I froze as I laid my eyes on what waited inside. A humanoid creature stood before me with pale skin, dark, sunken eyes, sharp teeth and long claws finishing its fingers. One of its pale arms was stretched out before it, the claws on the end of the arm piercing my father’s abdomen as he was lifted from the ground. The creature turned and smirked at me upon my arrival. I forced myself not to gasp, and took a deep breath instead.

“Put him down.” I said sharply, my voice stronger than I felt.

“Put him down?” The creature hissed, its voice as rough as sand paper. “In the air or on the ground, he’s dead, little girl.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I told it. My head was spinning. I spat out the first words I could think of. “I’m the one you want, right?”

Its pale eyebrows raised in surprise. “Look here,” it turned to my father, “we have a smart one.” It then trained its eyes on me. “You want your father? Have him.”

I barely had time to jump to the side before the creature launched its arm forward, throwing my father through the doorway I had been standing in and across the room until he landed by the collapsed staircase. It took all my free will not to run to him.

“I’m not afraid of you.” I said boldly, my heart thundering in my chest.

The creature cocked its head to the side, a sinister smile appearing on its face. “Sure you aren’t.”

“You should be afraid of me.” I told it. “After all, I am my father’s daughter.”

The creature’s smirk faltered.

I laughed humourlessly, hoping my suspicions about my father were true as I voiced them aloud for the first time. “Do you really think he would leave me and my sister completely defenceless against whatever would come for him from the other side of the mirror?” I asked. “Would he really be that stupid?”

“He should never have escaped.” It hissed. “You would need no defending if he had stayed.”

“Of course not.” I narrowed my eyes. “But I would still have to kill you on the other side.”

The creature laughed, a horrible choking sound. “You couldn’t kill me.”

I stepped from behind the door frame, gripping the knife tighter in my hand. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” I took my arm from behind my back, revealing the knife.

The creature’s eyes seemed to light up. To my surprise, it took a step towards me, its hands raised in surrender. “Do it then. A fitting revenge, considering I killed your father.” It walked slowly around me. “I wish I could describe the feeling of euphoria it gave me when I finally found that traitor, and my claws pierced his skin for the first time. The feeling of pure power when I realised I was the one who finally killed Jason Chastidy. And the feeling of excitement,” it muttered in my ear, its sharp teeth grazing my earlobe, “when I realised that I only have to wait a couple of minutes before his wife and second daughter return, and I can murder them just as I have with him.”

The creature had barely stopped before me when I gripped the knife in my hand and thrusted upwards, lodging the knife under its rib cage with all the strength I could muster. As soon as the creature grasped at the knife and black blood began to fall from its mouth, I whirled around and ran to my father, my hands shaking.

“Dad,” I sobbed, slipping my hand beneath his head and pulling it onto my lap. “Dad this is all my fault. I think this is because of me.”

He reached out and patted my knee. “Don’t be silly, Pipes, how on earth could this be your fault? If anything it’s mine.”

I blinked. “Your fault?” I asked incredulously, not waiting for a reply. “Dad. Dad, this is my fault. I don’t have a reflection.”

A pained smile spread across his face. “Don’t worry, Piper.” He said, wincing. “Neither do I.”

He slowly closed his hand into a fist, leaving one finger outstretched. My gaze followed his finger and landed on the mirror at the end of the hallway. In the reflection, there was the rubble of the staircase surrounding a pool of blood on the carpeted floor. My father – the source of the blood – was not there. Neither was I.

“Dad—!”

He shook his head, his hand slipping from my knee so he could clutch at his stomach. The blood covered his hand instantly, so thick that it was more black than crimson. “Piper,” he croaked, “Piper come closer.”

I leant down, my ear close to his mouth, my hair shrouding him in darkness.

“Piper,” he said slowly, “don’t lean into the mirror.”

As he finished speaking, his body collapsed, a dead weight on my lap. A sob tore its way from my throat as I pulled back, his dazed, empty eyes staring at the ceiling above him. I reached out a shaking hand and lowered his eye lids, trying to convince myself he was sleeping. It didn’t work; his chest didn’t rise and fall, his snores which normally echoed through the house were non-existent. There was far too much blood.

Slowly, I slipped my hands under his head, cradling it, before slipping myself out from under his body, and lowering him to the floor. My breath rattled in my chest against sobs as I dragged myself from the floor, unable to draw my gaze away from my father. It took all my free will not to sink down next to him again and just give up. Just let those things take me too. But – somehow – I didn’t.

“This is about to get really interesting, believe me, but just – just go with it.” A voice said from behind me. “What you just said to your dad? Not true.”

I didn’t turn around. My shoulders were tensed. My teeth were clenched. My knees were locked in position; the only thing keeping me upright.

No. I told myself. Not possible.

“What’s not true?” I asked, my voice shaking.

The person sighed exasperatedly. “Your reflection. You have one.” They paused. “And right now, she needs you to get your ass through that damn mirror.”

Hesitantly, I turned around. My gaze met with a girl with a round face, auburn hair, and green eyes of average height. “What are you doing here?” I asked, remembering their face from when they watched me from the edge of the forest. As well as many other occasions.

“Trust me.” My reflection told me. “It’s for your own good.”

2. The Desolation

 

I felt like I had been plunged into a bottomless ocean, cold enveloping me in its cruel embrace as I came into contact with the mirror. Darkness swirled around me, obscuring my vision, increasing my already rapid heartbeat. I reached out in earnest for my reflection – she had to be there somewhere – but my search was fruitless.

As fast as the feeling had washed over me, it was snatched away, and I was forced from the interior of the mirror and onto the other side. The air was stifling hot, suffocating my lungs. I choked in the too-warm oxygen, savouring the feeling after the illusion of drowning mere seconds before. I landed on my knees roughly, my hands slapping on the hard ground before me, stabilising my body. Sweat broke out on my brow, a result of the rapid temperature change, and I raised my eyes from the ground to observe my surroundings.

I was crouched in a square room with plain, concrete walls, and a single steel door in one corner. Everything was a shade of dark grey, a huge contrast to the beige and browns of my house. I pushed myself to my feet, spinning around to look behind me. “No.” I muttered, recalling my father’s story, where the worlds were mirrored perfectly. He must have known they weren’t, but why did he never tell us? “No, no, no, this is all wrong.”

Behind me was a mirror, but once again, I was not reflected. Nor was the rest of the room. Behind the glass was my house, the hallway I had just left. The only difference was that I could see my father, clutching at his abdomen even though he no longer felt the pain. I felt a sob choke its way up my throat as I reached out to touch the mirror, to watch the surface ripple, but my hand was met with cool glass.

Solid.

No ripples.

No escape.

When my knees buckled and my legs fell from beneath me, I didn’t even feel my body hit the floor. Silent tears betrayed my self-control, sliding down my cheeks.

“Come on,” my reflection said from beside me, “we have very little time. There could be more Fragments on their way.”

I turned to face her, numerous questions spiralling around my head. She flipped open the cover of what seemed to be a keypad that hung halfway up the wall beside the mirror.  She started typing something I couldn’t see before closing the cover once more. I turned back to the mirror before me, just in time to watch the image of my home disappear, black tunnelling in from the corners of the glass until it reached the centre, closing the portal like an old-fashioned television would turn off. I felt another sob rising in my throat, but I choked it down. I wiped the traitorous tears from my cheeks and stood up, suddenly determined.

“Fragments,” I said slowly, “that’s the name of the creature that killed my father?”

My reflection looked me up and down, a critical look on her face as she stood lazing against the wall with her arms folded. “Yes. That’s also the name of the creature that will kill you if we don’t get you somewhere safe.”

My brow furrowed. “I killed that one back there. There was only one.”

My reflection sighed. “Piper,” she said slowly, “the Fragments live on this side of the Glass. There may have been one on Earth, but there’s a whole race here.”

“Here…” I paused. “Where exactly is ‘here’?”

“We call it the Desolation.” She said simply. “Because that’s all there is left.”

I opened my mouth to speak and then closed it again, a single thought running through my mind; what on Earth have I gotten myself into? And from my reflection’s words, the answer was simple – nothing on Earth at all.

She met my eyes. “We have to move.”

“Move where?” I pressed.

“Somewhere safe.”

“Is anywhere safe?”

There was a pause.

“No.” She took a deep breath. “But there’s one person who can ensure your safety. Come on.”

She pushed herself off from the wall and made her way over to the metal door in the corner of the room. She pushed the handle down and the door opened instantly. For some reason, my brain had been expecting it to stay closed. There was no reason for the door to be locked, but I had already been trapped in their world, what difference would it make to be trapped in a single room? I forced myself to stop thinking, and followed my reflection out of the room.

We were thrust into a maze of concrete walls identical to those of the room we had just left. I lost track of how many corners we turned, how many stairs we walked down. If there was one thing I was glad about, it was that my reflection knew where she was going. I wished I did. Finally, we descended a final staircase and found ourselves in a large foyer of a building. There was a reception desk near the back wall, various waist-high desks protruding from the walls at random intervals and a few plain stone benches in the middle of the floor. Each desk in the room was occupied, the reception desk by four people, the others by one. The receptionists were dressed in red blazers with a silver embroidered logo on the pocket that I couldn’t make out, but the occupants of the other desks and the few occupants of the benches in the centre of the room were dressed in casual clothes. Well, casual for the 1800s. They all wore suits and ruffles, the females wearing gowns or tunics. My reflection’s attire now made sense to me. Looking at her black and grey tunic, I realised how useful it was that the women here were not forced into dresses like they had been in the 1800s back at home.

Every person in the room froze when they spotted my reflection and I. I hastily looked down, no longer critiquing their clothes.

A receptionist ran over to us, looking flustered.

“Ma’am,” the woman addressed my reflection, “Ma’am, Sir Dorian wishes for the doppelganger to see him right away.”

My reflection laughed bitterly, but didn’t slow down. She kept walking in the direction of the glass doors at the front of the building. I had no choice but to follow. “Didn’t take him long to notice, huh?” She muttered

The receptionist hurried to keep up with us. “It is – uh – quite hard to miss, Ma’am. Not many people in the Desolation have identical twins.”

My reflection turned to face the receptionist and rolled her eyes. “Sir Dorian can go to hell.”

“Ma’am, I must insist—”

“No.” The word brought the room to silence. “Sir Dorian will be seeing neither of us.”

“I’m afraid that is where you’re wrong.”

My reflection and I spun around, our eyes narrowing in on a man at the top of the staircase we had just descended before attempting our escape. He was of slim build and average height, dark hair hanging over his forehead. A smile played around his lips. He was gorgeous, I realised, and he seemed to know it very well.

My reflection cursed under her breath.

“It seems that I am seeing you both at once,” the man – who I assumed was Sir Dorian – continued. “A very rare occurrence, I must say.” He began to descend the stairs. “However, there is only one of you I wish to see.”

“The only thing I wish to see is my fist breaking your god damn nose.” My reflection growled.

“Now, now, Phae,” he smirked as he made his way toward us, “I only wish to talk to Piper here. Nothing more.”

I was taken aback. “Phae?” I asked incredulously.

“What?” My reflection raised her eyebrows. “Just because we look the same doesn’t mean we have to share a name too.”

I blinked. “Right.”

“It would also make it awfully difficult to address you both,” Sir Dorian commented. “I would ask for Piper Chastidy, and both of you would turn around.”

“Why do you want to talk to me so badly?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. Phae didn’t seem to trust him, but I wanted to make my own judgement of him. Like she said, all we shared was our looks.

“You have just been through a great ordeal.” He observed. “You must have a number of questions. I’m willing to answer them.”

Phae took a step forward, pushing me behind her as if I were in danger. “I can answer her questions perfectly well.” She snapped.

“I’m sure you can,” Dorian agreed, “however, it may be slightly eerie asking questions and having your own voice respond. I only wish to make Miss Chastidy as comfortable as possible.”

My eyes travelled slowly from Dorian to Phae, and I could see where he was coming from. The fact that Phae and this whole world existed was daunting enough. It was possible that I would never get used to talking to or looking at Phae. I took a step to the side so I was no longer blocked by my reflection.

“Fine.” I said. “You can have half an hour, and then I leave with Phae. No one else. No negotiations. I leave in half an hour with Phae, and you will answer all of my questions.”

“Well then,” Sir Dorian smiled slyly at Phae, but his words were directed at me, “I guess we have an agreement. Follow me.” He turned to look at the receptionist. “Keep Phae in the lobby. I will call for her when Piper wishes to leave.”

I followed Sir Dorian from the room, staying at least two paces behind him. Phae’s refusal to speak to him made me suspicious of his intentions, but from what I had witnessed since the appearance of the receptionist, Phae didn’t seem to trust anyone. I understood that she wanted to get me to “somewhere safe” even though she even admitted that no place exists, but what I needed was my questions to be answered, and Sir Dorian’s answers could help me understand what was going on in the Desolation and why my father was targeted. Regardless, I regretted my decision to talk with Sir Dorian as soon as Phae was out of sight. At least if I somehow got into trouble with Phae there, she would have been able to get me out of it. Me, on the other hand? I was completely useless.

Sir Dorian led me through a set of double doors, exquisitely carved out of what seemed to be mahogany, but in this alien world it could have been anything. Before passing through them, I paused. The doors featured a circular symbol carved into the centre, surrounded by swirling trees. A seven-pointed crown sat in the centre of the circle, and floating above each apex of the crown was a seven-pointed star. Judging from the symbol itself and the fine furnishings of not only the door, but the room that lay beyond it, I realised that Sir Dorian must have been far more important in the Desolation than I had first imagined.

The room was a huge, hexagonal shape, each corner adorned with pillars of carved wood – swirling trees that rose all the way to the roof, before breaking off into infinite branches, all six pillars entwining together to create a canopy of carved branches and leaves that filled the entire roof. On each wall, the symbol from the door was given pride of place, shimmering gold paint on a maroon background. While I had been staring open-mouthed at the room’s décor, Dorian had made his way over to a desk in the centre of the room that matched perfectly with the carved wooden pillars. I couldn’t quite see the entire desk, but I was fairly certain that the symbol with the crown and stars had been scorched into the top of it.

“Please,” Sir Dorian said politely as he sat at the desk, “take a seat.” He gestured to the couch that sat before the desk.

Slowly, I made my way to the centre of the room and sat down. “I take it you’re fond of trees.” I muttered, trailing my eyes around the room once more.

“Fond of what?” He asked, seeming perplexed.

My brow furrowed. “…Trees. They’re carved in everything – the door, the pillars, the legs of your desk.”

Realisation seemed to strike him. “Oh! Yes! Is that what they’re called?”

Shrouded in confusion, I forced myself to nod.

Sir Dorian laughed, saying the word aloud, testing it on his tongue. “Quite a peculiar word, isn’t it, ‘trees’?”

“I… It never crossed my mind before, Sir.” I mumbled.

“Please,” he stopped me, “call me Dorian.”

I nodded.

“I’m ever so sorry,” he began. “You must be ever so confused, and I can’t imagine I’m helping. It’s just… there aren’t any… trees… here. They only grow on the other side of the Glass, you see. I’m sure you have many questions. Ask away, my love.”

I flinched at the pet name. “What is this place?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“You are currently in the Desolation, Miss Chastidy. I understand it’s quite a change from Earth, am I correct?”

“No kidding.” I muttered. “Phae said the Desolation is all that’s left. What did she mean by that?”

Dorian paused, his grey eyes scrutinizing me. “That’s a rather long, rather dark tale, Piper.” He said finally. “I’m not sure if you truly wish to hear it.”

“Give me short, dumbed-down version then.” I pressed.

He sighed. “Forty years ago, the Desolation was an exact mirror of Earth, down to the smallest grain of sand. Of course, it wasn’t called the Desolation back then, but this realm’s past name has been long forgotten, I’m afraid. It is said to bring bad luck, uttering the name. Only the oldest members of our population remember, and they dare not speak it.

“Our race, the humans of the Desolation, were in charge of the protection of Earth and its people. To do so, every day on a schedule, every person in the realm would come to one of these buildings that we are currently in. It is called a Glass House, and this is the only one remaining in the realm. In the Glass Houses, each citizen would ensure that every Glass in every home on Earth was secured; they would protect their own doppelganger, much like Phae protects you. It was everyone’s job to make sure no one passed through the Glass to the other side, either direction. No one could leave the Desolation for Earth, and no one could leave Earth for the Desolation. Those were the rules. For if people could pass through, the Fragments would then be inclined to pass through and wreak havoc on Earth, for that was what they desired to do to the Desolation. This system worked for centuries. Everyone knew their place. Anyone caught trying to pass through the Glass was executed, and their closest of kin was then assigned to the traitor’s doppelganger.

“But there was a prophecy; in the next century, a special child would be born. It is said that they would be the weapon of mass destruction, the single thing that could defeat the Fragments and take our home back, once and for all. The seventh son of the seventh son. When the Fragments got word of the prophecy, they slew all the fathers of six sons they could find, ensuring none could conceive a seventh. Most were slaughtered, but very few were not. But only one seventh son had the audacity to try for a seventh child. When he succeeded, the Fragments took their anger out on the rest of the world. It was all destroyed. All except this small populace. The Desolation.”

I raised my eyebrows. “But what about the boy? I thought he could save everyone?”

“Yes, but as a mere babe?” Sir Dorian challenged. “There was nothing the boy could do from his mother’s arms, Piper. We were left defenceless, and sixty percent of this world’s population was eradicated. Now it is even harder to protect Earth from the Fragments, each citizen is assigned at least five humans from Earth to defend. Hardly any of the people from your world have doppelgangers anymore. They were all slaughtered, whereas their Earthly counterparts were not.”

“Am I missing something here?” I asked, slightly confused.

Dorian’s brow furrowed. “Whatever do you mean?”

I stared at him like he was an idiot. “What actually happened to the boy? He may not have been able to do anything then, but surely he could do something now, if this all happened forty years ago! Why haven’t you sought him out?”

“The boy was only on record for another eight years, and then he disappeared. We believe any endeavours to seek him out now would be fruitless.” Sir Dorian muttered, looking down at the ornate table before him.

“Why do you say so?” I pressed.

He raised his eyes to mine, glancing at me through his eyelashes. “Piper, it is well in my right for me to believe that the seventh son of a seventh son who went missing thirty-one years ago was your father.”

3. The Daughter of a Seventh Son

 

I didn’t even think before I was on my feet and running from the room. I barely even slowed to force open the carved doors. I heard Dorian call my name, yet I forced my body to keep moving. One foot in front of the other. Left, right, left, right. Inhale. Exhale.

I bounded down the concrete stairs three at a time, careful to keep my balance. I didn’t pause at the base of the steps, nor did I pause as I shouldered open the doors of the Glass House, and slammed into what felt like a solid wall of heat. My lungs begged for oxygen through the humidity. My feet begged for rest as they pounded and pounded the rocky terrain beneath them, throwing up clouds of dust the colour of sunsets. The world outside the Glass House was barren and dry, void of any vegetation. The Desolation was a very fitting name.

I ran through a maze of run-down streets and houses, all a blur as I passed. I had no destination in mind, no logical thought process except one single word thundering through my mind; escape. Escape. ESCAPE.

Somewhere behind me, through the sound of the ringing in my ears and the hot wind that lashed against my skin, I heard Phae calling my name. I heard her curse a little softer, then call out to me again. I forced my feet to move faster.

My breath was coming in gasps, my hair in knots as it was clawed at by the wind. My body was screaming at me to stop, but my mind was screaming otherwise. I stumbled and kept my balance. I stumble and fell to the ground, the red dirt staining my hands, my face, my clothes. I dragged myself to my feet and started running again.

I lost count of how many streets and houses I passed, how many times Phae called out my name along with a string of expletives. It wasn’t until I broke through the last line of houses that I stopped; before me lay a hundred metres of barren land, and beyond that, nothing. The world dropped off the edge of a cliff. My only escape was a sheer drop to my death.

Hesitantly, I walked forward to the edge of the cliff. It was only when I peered over the edge to see what lay below, that I dropped to my knees in defeat, silent tears streaming down my face. Darkness. That was the only thing beyond the cliff.

There was no escape from the Desolation.

I heard footsteps approaching me from behind, but I didn’t turn to see who they belonged to; I already knew.

“It’s where the Fragments reside.” Phae said softly as she knelt beside me. “The Darkness encircles the Desolation. There’s no escaping it, Piper.”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I let my eyes trail along the dark clouds below to cliff.

“It’s dangerous here, Piper, if one of their scouts spots you—”

“If the Desolation is so damn dangerous,” I said slowly, “then why did you bring me here?”

“Selfishness.”

My brow furrowed, and I raised my eyes to my reflection—no, my doppelganger, as Dorian had said. “Selfishness?” I inquired.

“Look at this world, Piper.” Phae sighed. “Look at what it’s become.”

“Because my father was a coward.” I managed through clenched teeth. “Because he chose to save himself and leave his world to rot.”

“Don’t say that.” Phae insisted. “He was young. Naïve and scared. He made a choice and had to live with the consequences. We all did. But escaping the Desolation didn’t make him a bad person, merely a thoughtless one.”

“He left you all to die.”

“And yet, we still live.”

I looked away.

“Forty years ago, we were meant to be saved by a seventh son of a seventh son.” Phae said softly. “We lost that seventh son once thirty-two years ago, and again this morning. The prophecy was wrong, Piper. Your father was never meant to save us. It’s time we wrote our own destiny.”

“I don’t understand where you’re going with this, Phae.” I grumbled.

“I’m going to save my home.” Phae said, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “And you’re going to help, so we can save yours, too. I’m willing to bet that the daughter of a seventh son of a seventh son can be pretty powerful as well.”

I stared at my doppelganger in perplexity. “What do you mean, ‘so we can save yours, too’?”

“Piper, a Fragment was in your house. It killed your father.”

“Yes, and…?” I pressed, feeling like I was missing something important.

“That means, somewhere in that Darkness,” Phae signalled to what lay beyond the cliff with a bob of her head, “the Fragments have managed to awaken one of the abandoned Glass Houses that wasn’t completely destroyed, and are using it.”

I flinched. “What does this mean?”

“It means Earth is no longer safe, and will soon become a true mirror of the Desolation once more.”

My eyes widened and I jumped to my feet, ready to run back in the direction I had come, but Phae was on her feet and had grabbed my wrist in an instant.

“No way are you running off again.” She said, her tone suddenly harsh.

I yanked my wrist from her grip. “Take me back.”

She was taken aback. “What?”

“You have to take me back. Back to my world. Now.” I insisted.

“What? Are you insane? Have you completely lost your god damned mind?” Her eyes were wide with confusion.

“I have to go back, Phae – my family is there! My mother and my sister are in danger!” I shoved her backwards in an attempt to knock some sense into her.

“Yeah? And what will you say to the police, Piper?” Phae countered.

My brow furrowed. “The police?”

She looked at me as if I was stupid. “Your mother and your sister get home after a ten minute visit to the convenience store to pick up your birthday cake, and they find the house in ruins. The staircase completely obliterated. They find your father lying in a pool of his own blood in the hallway. They find your new guitar strewn randomly across the lounge room floor. They find a kitchen knife, one the police will soon discover your fingerprints on.”

My eyes travelled back to the darkness below the cliff. “They find the body of the Fragment I killed.” I added in, but Phae shook her head.

“Their bodies disperse when they die. They leave nothing behind.” She explained. “So, they’ll find your house destroyed, your father dead, you missing, and a bloody knife with your fingerprints all over it. Even you can’t say that doesn’t look suspicious.”

I stared at her.

“And if, by some miracle, they disregard the knife as a self-defence weapon, they’ll think you’re dead too. Randomly turning back up in your world will not only cause a million problems for you, but a million problems for your family as well.”

“I have to go back!” I cried, a burning sensation appearing behind my eyes.

“You can’t.” My doppelganger snapped.

I flinched.

“I won’t let you go back. I won’t let you endanger yourself like that.” Phae said in a softer tone.

I looked down at the ground, and sat back down, fiddling with the loose orange earth. “They’re my family, Phae.”

“Find a new one.” She suggested. “On this side of the Glass.”

I shot her a glare. “I have to help them.”

“Help me.” Phae said, a sly smile appearing on her face. “Help me, and kill two birds with one stone.”

“Why do you believe I can help you?” I pressed, beginning to get annoyed at her determination.

Her eyes scanned the darkness below the cliff, her mind far away. Almost unintentionally, she dropped to the ground and sat beside me. “Call it intuition.”

I rolled my eyes. “More like desperation.” I mumbled.

“Call it whatever you like. Desperation has the ability to tear a person down to ruins or build them up into a strong, determined fighter. There are two sides to every flaw, Piper. Try to remember that.” She got to her feet again and looked at me pointedly. “So,” she muttered, “what are you going to do? Are you going to help me?”

I looked out across the darkness, imagining the Fragments staring up at me on the cliff with hunger in their eyes and vengeance in their hearts. I imagined the fear my father must have felt when he was old enough to understand that his whole world was counting on him to defeat those creatures. I imagined the despair his people felt when he abandoned them for my world. For the first time since passing through the Glass, I allowed myself to think of the desperation in my father’s voice when he told me not to touch the mirror. I imagined mum and Ami coming home from the store, Mum trying to keep Ami behind her as she took in my father’s body on the floor surrounded by his own blood; trying to stay strong while calling out my name in hysterics, her knees buckling, causing her to fall to the floor when there was no reply. The neighbours would run out to see what the commotion was, then call the police in a panic.

Then I imagined something different.

My mother and Ami returning home to two bodies on the hallway floor surrounded by blood. The Fragment rounding the corner, licking its lips. All the colour draining from my mother and sister’s faces as the Fragment pounces, their screams muffled by its body and power, and the taste of their own blood at the back of their throats.

I imagined my whole family, myself included, dying in one morning. My whole family would have remained an unsolved murder for years.

My heart thundered at the thought. My fists clenched. For all I knew, all of that could still happen.

I raised my head my eyes met Phae’s as I gave her a slight nod.

I had made my decision.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 06.04.2015

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