Alice fell through darkness. There was a shattering sound, and she flinched, squeezing her eyes shut. And then…
All went silent and still. She stood on solid ground, and as she opened her eyes…
She was staring at herself.
A strangled grasp escaped her throat. “No,” she said in a strained, choked voice.
The other Alice smirked at her, a cruel light glinting in her eyes. “What do you mean, ‘no’?” she asked coldly.
“You can’t be here,” Alice said, shaking her head. “How… no! You can’t!” She took a step back, but came up against a wall she couldn’t see. There was nowhere to go.
“What do you expect from a mirror?” the other Alice asked, taking a step forward. Alice, panicking, tried again to back away, to no avail. “Come on, you’re smarter than this.”
And Alice paused. Staring at the other Alice, the tight constriction on her heart eased. “You’re… a reflection,” she said softly.
Mirror-Alice tilted her head to the side. “Obviously,” she said. “But this mirror’s really something quite special. I’m not just a reflection of you. I’m better.” She sneered, but Alice’s fear was swiftly retreating.
“All right, then,” Alice said, standing up straight, staring down mirror-Alice. “What’s this all about, hmm? Saoirse throws us in a mirror to stare at ourselves all day? That doesn’t sound like too bad of a punishment. I’m adorable.”
“Oh, you have no idea what you’re in for,” mirror-Alice said. She chuckled, and then lunged forward, grabbing Alice’s wrist. Her touch was cold, like frosted glass, and Alice flinched away, but couldn’t break free. “Show us what’s in that pretty little head of yours!”
“What —?” Alice came up short with a gasp as the dark landscape of the mirror transformed. She was back home, in the grand manor she shared with Mister Carroll. It wasn’t a perfect recreation — things were flipped, like looking through a mirror. And there were little glimmers of reflective light here and there, like all was made of glass.
“Ah, yes,” mirror-Alice said, smiling evilly. “Home sweet home. But so lonely.” She drew out some of her syllables, playfully mocking. “All alone in this giant manor with just daft Mister Carroll for company. Who is he, anyway? Your caretaker? No, he’s an enigma, isn’t he?” Mister Carroll appeared in the glassy entrance hall, his angular, intelligent eyes looking strangely vacant behind his pince-nez. Mirror-Alice grabbed this Mister Carroll with her free hand and shoved him, and he spun in place like a child’s top. Mirror-Alice laughed. “Let’s unravel all his secrets.”
“As if you could,” Alice said, struggling again to pull away from mirror-Alice’s grip, and failing.
“But what’s this?” mirror-Alice asked, brushing aside the lifeless reflection of Mister Carroll and pulling Alice along, striding past him. Alice reached for the falling Mister Carroll, but too slow — he struck the ground and shattered into a million shards of glass, every single one reflecting Alice’s distraught expression back at her. “Ah,” mirror-Alice said, with a hint of amusement, drawing Alice’s attention forward. They weren’t in the entrance hall, but upstairs, in Alice’s room, standing in the doorway. “What secrets can be found in this mess?”
“It’s not a mess!” Alice said, drawing herself up. “I’ll have you know that my room is expertly organized. I just don’t have enough shelves. And who needs to put everything on shelves, anyway? It’s much more fun stacking books on the floor.”
“Resist all you like,” mirror-Alice said, smiling back at Alice, a cruel light in her eyes. “We’ll break through eventually.”
“Resist what?” Alice asked, more annoyed than worried at this point. When mirror-Alice kicked over a pile of her books to make them shatter on the floor, Alice received her mocking laughter with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh, I see,” mirror-Alice said, and suddenly leaned in close, too close, their noses were almost touching. Alice couldn’t help herself, she panicked, tried to back away, but mirror-Alice grabbed both her arms with both of her frosted-glass hands, and she couldn’t escape. “Yes, your resistance is as nothing. Inside… there’s a deep dark pit of loneliness and despair. Poor, lonely Alice. No family… no friends… no real place to call home.”
“Shut up!” Alice said, struggling in her grip, but it was like trying to fight a statue.
And then she gasped. A black butterfly fluttered through the air, passing in the narrow space between the girl and her reflection. It paused, right in front of Alice’s left eye, hovering there, fluttering there, almost as if it were looking at her.
The black butterfly flew on, vanishing as it passed. But Alice’s knees felt weak. She was falling, in mirror-Alice’s grip, pulling mirror-Alice down with her, and her reflection grinned with pleasure, following after her into the deep, dark pit that opened up beneath them…
——
Tobias grasped for his sword — but it wasn’t there. He turned aside to look for Flynn —
But he wasn’t there.
“Flynn!” he cried out into the empty darkness. “Flynn! Where are you?”
“He’s not here,” came a voice.
His voice.
Tobias wheeled around, and found himself facing his own reflection. This reflection did have a sword, but it was belted on his left side, not his right. Everything was reversed. Mirrored.
“Then where is he?” Tobias asked, glaring at his reflection.
Mirror-Tobias smirked back at him. “The Mirror doesn’t work so well on animals, unfortunately,” he said. “So we just lock them up for a while. Until the prisoners submit.”
“You’re a servant of Saoirse,” Tobias said, shifting his stance. He may not have his sword, but that didn’t make him powerless.
“Servant?” mirror-Tobias asked, and he laughed, a high, cold laugh that Tobias couldn’t have recreated if he wanted to — and he didn’t. “We don’t serve the Queen of Hearts. Everyone else serves her — as well they should. We are the only one powerful and valuable enough to stand as her equal.”
“But you’re doing her bidding, trapping us in here,” Tobias said.
“Because our aims so often align with hers,” mirror-Tobias said. He took a step towards Tobias, and Tobias stepped back — into a wall. There hadn’t been a wall there before. But though he couldn’t see it, he could feel it, could feel the walls all around them.
There was no escaping his reflection, this avatar of the mirror.
“And,” mirror-Tobias continued with a cold smile, “the Queen of Hearts is kind to us — the only one who ever has been. She understands us, and we understand her. She doesn’t see us as a tool to be wielded, but as a friend to join hands with. She knows our needs, what drives us, what sustains us, what makes our existence worth continuing.”
“Prisoners, then?” Tobias asked. “She feeds you a steady diet of people to torment.”
Mirror-Tobias grinned, baring his teeth, a manic gleam in his eyes. “So perceptive,” he said. “You’re going to be a challenge. But breaking through your resistance will be most rewarding of all.”
“You can try,” Tobias said, tensing for a fight.
Mirror-Tobias drew his sword, and Tobias ran through a dozen scenarios in his mind, possible opening attacks, ways to counter them, when his foe had a sword and he did not.
But mirror-Tobias just chuckled, waving Tobias’ obsidian sword around casually like a plaything. “This sword really doesn’t suit you,” he said.
Tobias glared. And then mirror-Tobias made a sudden movement, making Tobias tense up —
But it wasn’t an attack. Mirror-Tobias just threw away the obsidian sword, letting it vanish into the darkness of this mirror world.
And then he lunged. He grabbed for Tobias, and when Tobias moved his arm to block, his evil reflection just grabbed that arm. Tobias let out a gasp. His reflection’s grip was like ice, cold and hard, and when Tobias tried to break free, his arm didn’t even budge. So he switched tactics, and threw a punch, straight for his reflection’s face.
Mirror-Tobias laughed, catching the punch in his other hand, and Tobias’ knuckles went numb in his grip. “Such fire in you,” mirror-Tobias said. “Now, then. The Queen of Hearts is most interested in what lies inside your mind. Shall we take a peek?”
“No,” Tobias said flatly. He leapt up, using his reflection’s vice-like grip to hold him as he kicked hard at the mirror-being’s midsection.
But his kick never reached him. Everything froze, like time had come to a standstill. A black butterfly fluttered through the air, through the space between Tobias and his reflection. An icy chill gripped Tobias’ heart as he watched the butterfly dance in the air for a moment, and then fly away, vanishing.
And then he was falling. Falling, falling, the ground opening up beneath him, and mirror-Tobias came with him, his icy grip inescapable…
——
Guinevere swayed, disorientated by the sudden shift from the great chamber with the mirror to…
Darkness. Darkness where? There was something strange about this darkness, because when she looked at herself, she could see herself perfectly, like she was illuminated by a spotlight, but there was no light being cast on her, and she cast no shadow.
She looked up, and gasped.
She was staring at herself.
“What are…?” she started.
The other Guinevere smirked, a rather contemptuous expression that Guinevere herself had never used before. “Are you really that slow on the uptake?” she asked, using colloquialisms that were too common, too plain, for Guinevere herself to ever make use of.
And then Guinevere put the pieces together. “We’re inside the mirror?” she asked. She looked left and right, but didn’t turn around — she didn’t like the idea of letting this other self out of her sight. “Wait — where’s Ava? Ava!”
“Oh come on, you should have at least distantly heard what we told Tobias,” mirror-Guinevere said. “You’re all in here together, after all.”
“What you…” Guinevere started, and then she remembered. Like an echo, a distant echo, so that she’d hardly paid attention to it, hardly noticed it. “You’ve locked her up. But not for long. Release us!”
Mirror-Guinevere laughed, a cold, piercing laugh that echoed strangely in the darkness. “As if,” she said. “It’s time to see who you are. To invite you into the depths of all you fear.”
Mirror-Guinevere lunged at Guinevere, and she moved to draw her sword.
But she didn’t have a sword! Her reflection did, but she didn’t, and too late she realized the difference, there was nothing more she could do before the icy grip of her reflection clamped down like a vice on her wrist.
And then they were falling, glass was shattering around them, Fragments spun by, each fragment showing a glimpse of Guinevere’s own world, her own life. Over and over again she saw that hated manor, the grand opulence that had been hers — and more so her parents’ — from the moment she’d been born and confirmed as the Promised Queen.
“So hateful towards your own home and family,” mirror-Guinevere chided, shaking her head. “But then, it changed everything, didn’t it? Your parents had once been in the upper echelons of society — until scandals laid them low.” Guinevere saw a fragment spin past, reflecting a news report she’d once read about her parents’ lives before she’d been born. The headline blazed like fire in the darkness: “Socialites Disgraced — Wealth Squandered, Friendships Broken, Mansion Repossessed.”
“Anyone could have borne the Promised King and Queen,” Guinevere said, fighting in vain against her reflection’s grip. “So then why —?”
“Why couldn’t you have been born to parents like those who produced the Promised King?” mirror-Guinevere asked. “Yes, you loved Artorius’ parents far more than your own.”
“Because they loved me more than they loved the wealth and status that came with me!” Guinevere said, all the old pain and heartache and anger rising to the surface once more.
She saw fragments fly past, showing her childhood, being paraded around in the fanciest of dresses, all in the midst of a meteoric rise to fame and fortune for her parents. Her father, happily indulging in the richest of foods and drinks. Her mother, calling upon the attentions of all, the socialite restored, surrounding herself with everyone of influence and whispering her desires in their ears…
“Stop it!” she cried, trying to wrench her reflection’s hand from hers with her free hand, but mirror-Guinevere just grabbed that wrist, too, and Guinevere was captured in that frosted-glass grip, unable to escape.
“Oh, no,” mirror-Guinevere said, so close to Guinevere their noses were almost touching, a manic, hungry look in her emerald eyes, so much glassier and reflective than Guinevere’s own. “We’re nowhere close to the end. Not until you’ve fed us all of your fear and pain, all your anger and hate, not until you’ve been consumed by your own despair, will this end.”
Guinevere screamed, tumbling helplessly into blackness.
——
Sheena stood tall, not flinching as her reflection grasped her arm in an icy, vice-like grip. She’d heard all of what was going on around her, seen glimpses of what was happening to her companions in here. She had an idea of what was to come.
“So,” mirror-Sheena said, grinning. “You accept your fate.”
“No,” Sheena said, gazing levelly back at her reflection. “But I have seen evil like yours before.”
“In Taiyoushi?” her reflection asked, and in an instant, all around them appeared a glassy, reflective version of her home city, the capital city of Haruo. Sakura trees bloomed beautiful pink, their petals dancing in the air, floating down the river, where children cast paper boats to sail after them, or tried to capture petals in nets. Mirror-Sheena sneered. “The mirror you know is nothing like me.”
“You wish to drag us to the depths of our despair, and feed off of our pain and hardship,” Sheena said. “I’m sure you are different in your own way, but your desires are the same.”
“Pride comes before the fall,” mirror-Sheena said. “Thinking yourself prepared for us is all the leverage we need to dominate your spirit.”
“It isn’t pride,” Sheena said. But an instant later, she flinched, as the reflection of her beloved city flickered, then burst into flame. Fires exploded from the roof of Taiyoushi Castle, devoured the sakura trees, toppled houses and the golden statue of the four Dragon Devas. Children lay dead by the river, blood staining its once-pristine waters a sickening crimson.
She shut her eyes. But the image persisted in her mind’s eye, worse than before, the way that a dream exaggerates the details of what is seen and heard. The fires were hungrier, wilder, the river redder, more grotesque. Sheena opened her eyes, instinctively fought against her reflection’s grip to no avail, and then a voice made her freeze.
“It’s all your fault.”
She looked past mirror-Sheena to a young woman in Sword Dancer garb. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, yet they glared at Sheena with a look of revulsion born of betrayal. “How could you do this to us?” she asked.
“I’ve done nothing!” Sheena said. Her reflection grinned at her, and Sheena shut her mouth.
No. This isn’t the truth. The more I engage with it, the more the mirror has to feed off of. I have to hold fast. To stand strong. To not give in to this vicious attack.
“Good luck with that,” her reflection said. She tugged, and Sheena was yanked down into the blood-stained river. She barely had time to gasp in a breath before she was pulled completely under, warm, thick waters pressing in on her from all sides, threatening to drown her into submission…
——
Guinevere flailed in the grip of her reflection, but it was useless. And try as she might to look away from that grinning face, she saw it even with her eyes shut, those manic eyes larger and wilder than ever. But when she opened her eyes…
All around her, mirror shards hurtled through the air, showing glimpses of her life, glimpses that she didn’t want the mirror to see, didn’t want anyone to see.
“Tut-tut, promised princess,” mirror-Guinevere said, chuckling. “There’s nothing you can hide from us. No dark corner of your heart is out of our reach. Come closer, and show us your deepest secrets…”
“No!” Guinevere cried, gathering all of her determination, all of her queenly poise. She couldn’t fight back against the mirror physically, but if it was a test of wills, she would prevail. Her will could not be dominated. Not even by a magical mirror.
Suddenly, her feet hit solid ground. Her knees buckled slightly, but she recovered rather than fell, standing fast within…
A garden.
All around her was a pleasant, pastoral scene. Blue sky overhead, with a few fluffy clouds drifting along, one of them casting a faint shadow over the corner of the garden wall. Bees buzzing in the distance, happily gathering up nectar from flowering trees across the stream. The scent of apples on the air, causing Guinevere to turn around, but she couldn’t turn around in her reflection’s grip, so the landscape turned instead, rotating to give her the view she desired…
Her heart leapt within her, a mingling of nostalgic joy and aching tragedy. Beneath the apple trees stood an elegant woman, her hair done up in a plain bun, her plain white dress wafting in the breeze, revealing bare feet on the grass. She didn’t need resplendent jewels, designer dresses, or fancy hairdos — her elegance was one that came from within and shone out of her no matter what she wore.
And at her side, a small boy, only five years old. Small for his age, as his best friend constantly reminded him and teased him about, his golden hair matched his mother’s, and he held the basket that she was putting apples into. Anything to help his parents, anything to do right by those he loved. He turned slightly, and those summer-sky-blue eyes shone in the sunlight, dazzling Guinevere’s heart.
A voice called out, and Guinevere looked aside, where a door opened in a summer manse to reveal a tall, broad-shouldered man with a big smile and those same summer-sky-blue eyes, the eyes he’d passed on to his son. He waved to his wife and son, announcing that lunch was ready, and Guinevere’s heart danced at the sound of that warm, rich voice, so full of love.
“So you admire his family more than your own,” mirror-Guinevere said in a soft voice, as if she was taking care not to shatter the fragile memory.
“Not admire,” Guinevere said. “They… they were more my family than my own. His parents were so good to me. The parents I always wished I had.”
Little mirroring fractals appeared and disappeared here and there, visions of the past in the corners of her vision. Artorius’ father, showing Guinevere around their grand library, delighting in her excitement at the vast array of tomes, and happily directing her towards his favorite recommendations. Artorius’ mother, teaching her to ride a horse with a gentle touch and reassuring voice — so different from how her own parents had attempted to teach her to ride, with derision and scorn at Guinevere’s early failures. The two orange cats, who, as Artorius’ father put it, “adopted us more than we adopted them,” constantly keeping a wary distance from Guinevere — until one day, three years after they’d met, after dozens of visits and attempts to reach out by Guinevere, the two cats finally let her pet them, and what a joy that had been. And it was all because Artorius had such a special way with animals, and spent those three years studying those cats and finding the perfect way for Guinevere to approach them and be accepted.
Artorius, over and over, smiling so brightly. But his parents, too, just as dazzling as him, rays of light beaming into a frustrated, lonely existence.
And while Guinevere knew, in her heart of hearts, that Artorius was still alive out there, somewhere…
She’d seen his parents’ bodies brought home. She knew the truth that was wedged in her heart like a knife, that twisted a little deeper with every happy memory of them.
They were never coming back. Where their lights had shone so brilliantly, now yawned a bottomless chasm of darkness.
“Never coming back,” mirror-Guinevere said, and the lovely garden scene shattered, replaced by a horrific darkness shot through with reflections of Artorius’ mother and father in their caskets, eyes closed, never to open again. “Not those two. But the boy… oh.” Her reflection drew out that last syllable in a sinister way, drawing Guinevere’s attention back to her, to that gleeful malice shining in her eyes. “You think the precious prince still lives.”
“Of course he does!” Guinevere said, glaring back at her reflection. “But this is not for you to know. Get out of my head, out of my heart!” How dare she intrude, sullying the sanctity of these beautiful memories with her wicked search for fear and despair to latch onto and feed off of?
Guinevere’s stomach lurched — she was suddenly thrown into a backflip, mirror-Guinevere coming with her, still holding her tight in that frosted-glass grip. When her feet struck solid ground again…
She shuddered. This darkness was different. And there, in front of her, looming above her and her reflection, was a man in shadow, seated upon a massive black throne.
——
“So strong,” mirror-Tobias crooned, in a voice too much like Saoirse’s to come out of Tobias’ mouth. “But is that strong, stoic Knight Jouerve just a mask? What lies beneath the façade of quiet strength?”
“Nothing you’ll ever know,” Tobias said with a clenched jaw. But his greatest effort of will wasn’t enough to hide everything from the mirror. Images flashed, reflections along the wall, showing glimpses of the darkest day of his life.
Fire, everywhere. It had burned so much that day, and the fire, the heat, the smoke, had all been so disorienting, blinding, obfuscating. Screams rending the air — even the strong, armored guardians assigned to Tobias and his family let loose horrific screams. Tobias had never known until that day how much pain could warp a man’s voice beyond recognition.
And then there, clearer than all the other tiny, confused glimpses, was a boy. A boy Tobias’ age at the time, not yet a man, strode through the flames. He was smiling, the only one in this bloody, flaming nightmare who was. In his hands he held a long, slender, curved sword, dripping with blood.
And it was about to spill more blood. Tobias cried out despite himself, despite knowing this was a memory, knowing it was already done, that there was nothing now anyone could do to change it. The boy walked up to a man and woman, both on their knees, bound by cloaked intruders, not yet killed like all the others.
They were for the boy to slay.
“Stop this!” Tobias cried, tugging vainly against his reflection. Just as the smiling boy thrust his sword through the woman’s chest, the memory vanished. All went suddenly dark and still.
“You have a strong will,” mirror-Tobias said, grinning. “But there is such pain behind the mask. Loneliness… betrayal… scars both you and your faithful canine companion bear… and you blame yourself for all of it.” He spoke this last revelation as if it was the most transformative discovery in the world. “That boy with the sword… he was your friend. And the man and woman he killed… they were your —”
“What’s the point of saying it?” Tobias asked, glaring daggers at his gleeful reflection. “What’s the point of any of this? Face me with my fears and sorrows if you can, it won’t change anything. You won’t break me.”
“What makes you think I want to break you?” mirror-Tobias asked, tilting his head to the side, his eyes for a moment wide and strangely innocent. Then Tobias flinched back, as the face of his reflection for a moment transformed into that of Saoirse, gazing upon him with that same innocence. But then it was Tobias’ reflection again. “We don’t seek your destruction. Only full understanding. You’re so determined to hide so much — particularly about your past. Such a mystery. When was that fateful day? How long ago? That place where it all happened, where you were being protected — where was it?”
“Ask all you like,” Tobias said, but a chill ran down his spine. If Saoirse didn’t want to break him like the others, then she was likely determined to keep him trapped in the mirror as long as she deemed necessary. And that could be long after his companions had been defeated by the mirror’s relentless torture. And if they managed to free themselves, would they be able to set him free, too, when Saoirse guarded him most jealously?
“Why is she so obsessed with me?” Tobias asked, straining against his captor’s grip. “All I did was stumble onto her lands by accident. I told White I just wanted to leave, I didn’t mean any disrespect to the land’s ruler, and suddenly the full force of the queendom was hunting me down until they finally caught me. I never even wanted to see her, so why, from the very first moment I was brought before her, has she been —”
“Ah, but you’ve come to it already,” mirror-Tobias said. “You never wanted to see her. Your defiance was such a refreshing change of pace from the endless parade of willing suitors marching into her palace, seeking the Queen’s hand in marriage. For once, she found someone who didn’t want to be king, who didn’t care about the power he would gain from being joined to her. True love cannot blossom when it is poisoned by corrupt longings for power or status. Your strength of will and purity of heart were exactly what she’d been looking for all her life. And —” his reflection chuckled in a flirtatious, Saoirse-like way that made Tobias’ stomach churn, “it didn’t hurt that you were quite the looker, either.”
“It should hurt that I’m not interested,” Tobias said firmly.
“Oh, but something she cannot have easily is such a rarity to the Queen of Hearts,” mirror-Tobias said. “Power, dominion, loyalty, material wealth… all has come with the utmost ease to her. Even affection — but of course, who wouldn’t desire the loveliest flower in all the realms? To be faced with a true challenge, a true test, a beautiful heart that she must earn? What could be more perfect a challenge at this, the most crucial stage in her life?”
“Finding someone who doesn’t find her repulsive would be a good start,” Tobias said. The words came out before he could stop them, before he could filter his thoughts. He was just so disgusted to hear this simpering adoration come out of his own mouth, his own voice — and to occasionally see glimpses of Saoirse in his reflection’s eyes, or even in his entire face.
But mirror-Tobias only smiled. “There’s nothing the Queen finds more delightful than imagining what you’ll be like when she finally breaks you,” he said. “Gently, of course. She’ll just break what doesn’t belong, and in the end, win your heart to hers.”
“The same old story, over and over,” Tobias said. “I’m sick of it!” He pulled, hard, but his reflection just came with him, and they fell backwards, through a sudden curtain of fire, a scorching heat, and then…
Water. They were plunged into a nearly-frozen lake. It was midnight, but the sky was clear, and stars shone bright enough that the silhouette of the forested mountains and hills ringing the lake could be seen.
And Tobias suddenly fought his reflection all the harder. They were delving too deep, seeing things that should not be seen!
“The past you’ve tried to bury, Tobias,” mirror-Tobias said, talking perfectly even underwater, “is exactly what we’re here to discover.”
“Not today,” Tobias said. And he pulled, this time twisting to the side, carrying his reflection with him. They burst out from the frigid water back to the darkness of the mirror, hurtling through open space, end over end tumbling down, down, down.
“You’ve chosen a life of exile,” mirror-Tobias said, gripping Tobias tighter, freezing his hand and wrist. “Exile from what? Who were you, Tobias, before the fire? Before the betrayal? Before being orphaned?”
“No one of consequence,” Tobias said, fighting to regain that strength his reflection called a mask, reaching for memories that didn’t fuel the probings of the mirror, of Saoirse. He plunged himself into recent memories — meeting Alice, returning to Saoirse’s lands by accident, fighting their way free of her palace.
“Impressive show of will,” mirror-Tobias said, grinning. “But you’ve forgotten a key truth.”
There was a pause, where Tobias and mirror-Tobias seemed evenly matched, pulling at each other in midair. But a moment later, mirror-Tobias wrenched Tobias with a brutal strength that made his stomach do flips as he was whipped around at shocking speed. When he stopped, he was nose-to-nose with his reflection, who gazed at him with a hard, glassy glare.
“I’m in control,” he said.
And they fell back into Tobias’ past.
——
Alice fell, clamped in the frosted-glass grip of mirror-Alice, this wicked reflection who sought to drive her to despair in the midst of her worst memories. Alice could catch glimpses of the others — of Guinevere, facing the dead parents of the Promised King once more; of Sheena, being blamed for the destruction of her city; of Tobias, and Saoirse’s mad attempts to make him submit to her affections. So she had some inkling of what was in store for her.
Which didn’t make things better. Knowing was not always half the battle. Sometimes knowing was much worse than the alternative. Because this wicked mirror relied on her memories, and on Alice giving her access to those memories. And knowing that only made Alice try not to think of the things she didn’t want the mirror to see, and trying not to think of something, of course…
“Only makes it easier to grasp,” mirror-Alice said, laughing. There was the sound of glass shattering, and Alice instinctively flinched away from it, fighting down a scream. Mirror shards flew past the tumbling pair, each one…
Blank.
“What’s this?” mirror-Alice asked, watching the shards fly by. “There’s… so much. How can a child contain so much? And yet… it’s so difficult to touch. Even when your mind is so easily turned towards what you don’t want seen, even when your resistance is so easily shattered…” She let one hand go of Alice and reached out, grasping one of the human-sized mirror shards and holding it for a moment, gazing into its dark reflection. “Oh, but you have a fascinating heart, don’t you? Dark and broken and terrified to the core, aren’t you?”
“As if you know the first thing about me,” Alice said, clawing back some of her will, some of her resistance.
“Yes, like all the others say,” mirror-Alice said, rolling her eyes. “But that’s just the thing, Alice. We will know about you — all about you. Come, child. Let us go deeper still!” She flung away the shard she was holding, grabbed onto both of Alice’s arms again, and kicked off of some invisible wall, sending them rocketing down at startling speeds. “Let’s explore what we can see first, shall we? One good heartbreak leads to another. Here we are!” She whirled Alice around, and glass shattered, and Alice swallowed a scream, shutting her eyes tight. But she’d seen a glimpse of Sheena trying the same thing, and it hadn’t helped her, but she couldn’t not shut her eyes, it was instinct, and behind her eyelids…
She saw herself. But not herself. It was…
“No!” Alice gasped, opening her eyes wide, rejecting that vision.
She found herself lying on her back, mirror-Alice kneeling over her. She was in a house, a mansion, but it wasn’t the grand manor that she shared with Mister Carroll. Her mind wanted to say it wasn’t “home,” and yet…
“And yet you can’t bring yourself to think that, can you?” mirror-Alice asked, looking up and around the dusty rafters, the listing staircase, the murky windows, the moldy curtains, the huge, fogged mirror over the mantlepiece. “This place… what significance does it hold for you?” She stood, heaving Alice to her feet. “Come, now. Let us —”
But she barely took a step before glass shattered, and Alice screamed, and they were out of the house, tumbling through darkness, end over end, before slamming back down to earth in a wholly different place. Alice gasped, the wind knocked out of her, and she was shocked to see that, for once, her reflection seemed as disorientated as she did. There was a curiosity, and confusion, in those big blue eyes as she looked around this new place — but she wasn’t even looking at the new place, the new memory, not really.
“What are you doing?” mirror-Alice asked, slowly looking down at Alice as if seeing her in a whole new light. She shook her once, hard. “How are you doing this!?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Alice yelled right back, glaring at her, though every part of her ached, and her wrists were bitter cold, and she was far more frightened than angry right now.
“You… don’t,” mirror-Alice said, eyebrows lifting slightly. “That’s… hmm.” She stood, pulling Alice to her feet. They were now in a grand outdoor amphitheatre, beneath a white-gold sky. There was no audience in the stands, no actors around them, no stagehands backstage. It was just Alice and her reflection in this strange new place that…
“You don’t… recognize it,” mirror-Alice said, gazing at Alice. “But it’s in your mind. It’s in your heart, it’s —”
Then glass shattered, and Alice clamped her mouth shut over a scream, shut her eyes tight even though she saw all the things she never wanted to see, as she was hurtling end over end through the mirror once more, down the depths of madness and despair, to an ending she couldn’t fathom, couldn’t imagine.
“We’ll discover the truth together, then!” mirror-Alice shouted, and Alice’s eyes snapped open, to see her reflection gazing fixedly into the whirling darkness with fierce determination. “You’ll not break before we understand just who and what you are, child. Let’s go! Show us something new!”
Alice fought against all the instincts that pulled at her. She tried to conjure up some existing memory, to give the mirror something else to feed on rather than dragging her into this unknown darkness. But it was all futile. They had boarded a train, and there was no getting off it until it reached its destination.