Page 21 of The Eternal Mirror (Lucifer’s Mirror #3)

Nosy Witch Problems

I can’t believe that it is less than a day since I promised myself that I was done with this saving-the-world shit. Over it. Totally. Zayne and Josh are the absolute last people I will rescue.

And yet somehow, here I am, sneaking down into the dungeons. Again.

I’ll keep my word to Zayne. I will get my brothers to safety. We’re leaving tonight. Zayne’s counting on it. But I still want to know what’s going on here. I want to know what Khronus is up to down in the dungeons. It’s something big—I know it is. Huge. And I want to stop him.

Actually, I want to annihilate that fucker.

And okay, maybe I am nosy. I do want to know everything.

But there’s nothing wrong with that. Knowledge is power.

I was telling the truth when I said to Zayne that we wouldn’t be safe while Khronus was still at large.

So I’m doing us all a favor. I’m seeing the job through to the end—Khronus’s end, to be precise.

Which means I have maybe an hour or two before I need to be back and start lying my ass off about how I’m totally ready for this escape plan.

I intend to use that time well. So, I’m back, heading down into the bowels of the earth, again.

I reach the main door to the dungeons and whisper a spell. It opens.

This time I can hear voices up ahead. There are men at the guard station—do they know I’ve been down here? I do the invisibility thing and tiptoe past them. One of them glances up as I pass within feet of him, but then he shakes his head and goes back to his game of cards.

I retrace my steps from yesterday. Down.

Down. Finally, I reach that place where the magic lingers.

Tainted magic. I run my fingertips lightly over the wall.

I feel it before I see it: the image of a black flame etched into the rock.

I know that symbol. It’s the birthmark that all the witches of the Coven of the Lost Flame and the Coven of the Dark Flame have etched into their skin. Winter had the mark on her wrist.

After they helped Khronus create the spell that made my father into the monster he became, the Coven of the First Flame split into the Coven of the Lost Flame—Winter’s people—and the Coven of the Dark Flame, the witches who chose to join forces with Lucifer.

The last of those witches died alongside Lucifer when I destroyed Hell. She’d been a complete bitch.

I don’t think any stayed with Khronus. I suspect they felt betrayed by him and probably a little worried about their chances of survival. Or maybe some did stay but were never seen again.

Now here is the mark. The dark flame.

What does it mean?

Is this where he created the spell that turned my father into the devil? Down here, in his dungeon of horrors?

The air is thick with magic—but it doesn’t just tingle. It crawls, wrapping around my skin like static laced with rot, sharp at the edges, oily underneath. Like it wants to get inside me.

It feels... wrong . Just like all of Khronus’s magic—his beastmaster powers, his little magic tricks. But worse. I suspect that’s intentional, maybe a spell to keep people away.

The sign of the dark flame marks the place where Khronus entered. An invisible door—perfect for keeping out the inquisitive.

I press my palm to the sign and whisper the standard unlock spell:

“Release the latch and open wide.”

Nothing. Not even a rattle. I narrow my eyes. “Okay. Rude.” I try again, this time with more force:

“ By will and word, I break your bind.”

Still nothing.

The air pulses, as if the door just snickered at me.

I frown. Alright. If it’s not just locked—it’s sealed. Warded. Fine. Let’s get weird. I press both hands to the door and whisper the kind of spell Hecate warned me not to use unless I was really sure I wanted to be inside. I’m sure.

“ Let me be where I need to be.

Open this door and let me see.”

The air around me warps. The wall dissolves into smoke.

I step through, and it closes behind me. I swallow; I hope I can get out again, but then all thoughts freeze in my mind as I take in my surroundings.

I’m inside a large chamber with a high vaulted ceiling. Around the edges are what look like cell doors, all closed, and right in the center stands a mirror. A really freaky mirror that’s positively oozing crazy vibes.

It’s a mirror unlike any I’ve ever seen before. I approach it slowly. For starters, it’s bigger; it must be nearly ten feet tall, towering over me. A jagged crack runs diagonally from corner to corner. But the thing holds in place, whereas any normal mirror would shatter.

The frame is made of some sort of substance that seems to shimmer like stars in the dim light. Different colors. Floating, fluid. Coalescing. Swirling.

And the glass?

It’s darkness.

At least until I stand in front of it. A shiver runs through it, then I see my reflection. Which is a first. Magic mirrors never show reflections.

And yet there I am.

I can’t remember the last time I looked in a mirror. Is that really me ?

I’m a freaking mess. I look like I’ve been dragged through a war zone backward, which is...fair. Note to self: plan for some personal grooming time.

I reach out a hand but stop before I get close enough to touch the glass. And I swear it hisses at me, like a sharp inhalation of breath. Does it want me to touch it?

I lean closer. Just for a second.

And the surface of the mirror—my reflection—shimmers, ripples. Not like water. Like something waking up. Cracks run through my reflection, and I splinter into a thousand tiny pieces. And beyond the shattered pieces, I see stars.

Not the night sky—not this world.

Something deeper. Older. Surrounded by rings of silver light, endless and spinning. I’ve seen this before. In that dream space where I met Khaosti. A mirror that isn't a mirror at all but a gateway. No—more than that. A source. A beginning.

It’s only a flash. A breath. Then it’s gone. My face returns, pale and shaken, eyes wide.

The hum of magic surrounds me—stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced at a mirror before.

But the weird thing is—while there’s a flavor of Khronus’s magic here, I don’t get that feeling of wrongness.

Just a sense of difference. All the same, touching it is probably not a good idea until I know a little more about what is going on.

It might suck me in and spit me out...God knows where.

One day I might be ready to find out. But not today.

I made a promise to Zayne, and I intend to keep it .

I walk all the way around it. A jolt shoots from my foot, up my leg, flooding my body with a zing of power. I glance down. I’m standing on a silver line on the floor, and I shift my feet. There are others, multiple trails of silver, like veins etched into the stone.

I have a horrible feeling about this.

“What are you?” I murmur to the mirror.

And I have the strangest idea it wants to answer. But maybe we don’t speak the same language. Yet. It’s awakening, close to sentient, almost as though it knows I’m here and is trying to communicate with me.

I swallow hard, turn away, and follow one of the silver strands to a cell door.

This time when I whisper the opening spell, the lock clicks, and the door creaks open. Inside it’s dark. No torchlight, no flames. Just the sickly silver glow of the magic thread illuminating the space like moonlight through fog.

It leads to a figure chained against the wall.

A woman.

Or what’s left of one.

Her head droops against her chest, brittle hair hanging in matted clumps. She’s emaciated—stick-thin arms and legs, skin like parchment stretched over bones. Her grey shift dress hangs off her frame like a shroud. Her bare feet are swollen and cracked, her toenails dark with filth.

The smell hits me. Damp. Decay. Hopelessness .

Slowly, she raises her head, and her eyes meet mine. And there’s... nothing . No recognition. No fear. No flicker of awareness.

Just emptiness.

Her head drops again, as though holding it up is too much.

I follow the silver strand with my eyes—see where it leads, where it ends . It’s fused into her skin at the wrist, sunken into raw, infected flesh.

It’s not just attached to her. It’s part of her.

My stomach turns. This isn’t imprisonment. It’s consumption, and I stagger back, hand over my mouth, my tongue bitter with the taste of bile rising.

Whatever this magic is...it’s feeding on her.

I back out of the room, fighting the urge to run.

And I promise myself:

This ends. Or I do.

I force myself to go to the next cell. Another woman, another body barely holding itself together. It’s impossible to guess her age. The Astrali are immortal—timeless. These women could’ve been down here for hundreds...maybe thousands of years.

The thought makes my throat close. I can’t imagine it. No—that’s a lie; I can imagine it. And that’s what makes me want to scream.

The silver thread connected to her is dull and frayed, like a dying nerve. Whatever magic sustains it is nearly gone.

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch as I creep closer, crouch, and press my fingers to the inside of her wrist. There’s a pulse. Barely—it’s thready and distant—but she’s still alive.

If you can call this living.

My hands shake as I let her go.

Then I move to the next cell. This time, the woman looks up. There’s something behind her eyes. A flicker. The faintest light.

I step closer, heart pounding. Her hair is dark. Her skin is pale. Her bones jut out sharply from paper-thin flesh. There’s something familiar about her, the shape of her bones beneath the skin.

And suddenly, I can’t breathe.

“Yasmin?” I whisper.

She blinks slowly, as if the name is reaching her through a fog that’s centuries thick. Please let me be wrong. But I already know I’m not.

“Are you Yasmin? Are you Sheela’s mother?”

“Sheela...” Something flickers in her eyes. Then it fades, and all that’s left is madness. But I know that I’ve found the missing mirror mages, and horror crawls across my skin.

I reach out and touch her arm, and she flinches.

I get the impression she would scurry back if she weren’t chained to a wall.

But I’m a healer. And while I think she’s beyond help—there’s such a broken feel to her—I can do something.

I breathe deeply and send a calming vibe through my body, down my arm, and into hers.

She goes still, and for a moment, I think I’ve done nothing, but then her expression clears.

“You’re not Sheela. I thought...” She blinks, and a tear rolls down her face. She reminds me of my own mother, so broken.

“Sheela is fine,” I say. “I’m a friend.”

“A friend? There are no friends here.”

“What happened?” I ask. “What is...that?” I point to the silver trail running from her manacled arm. It’s brighter than the others .

“He steals our magic. He drains us dry. He bleeds us.”

“But why? What’s he trying to do?”

“He seeks the Eternal Mirror.”

“What is that?” But as I speak, I remember reading about it in the library on Valandria. Selene and Vortex came through the Eternal Mirror and created the world. Is that what I was seeing through the cracked mirror—those spinning rings of silver?

“He believes if he controls the Mirror, then he controls all of creation.”

“But how...” I stop because I can see she’s exhausted. “I’m getting you out of here.” I can hide her somewhere until we leave tonight. Can she even walk?

“You can’t. My life force is tied to the mirror.” She glances down at the silver strand that flows from her arm, across the floor. “He told me I would die if I am untethered. The only way to be free is when everything is gone and I am nothing—just an empty vessel.”

That doesn’t sound good. Is she telling the truth, or is it just something she believes? I don’t know. But I can’t risk it. I need to find out more.

She lowers her voice and whispers, “All you can do to help me is end my life. Free me from this travesty.”

I am so not ready to do that yet. “Look,” I say. “Just stay alive.”

“I haven’t found a way to die in two hundred years. I doubt I will find it now.”

That makes me want to cry. “Please don’t give up hope. I’ll find a way. I promise. And I’ll come back. I’ll get you out of here.”

“Maybe. Just tell me. My daughter, is she well? ”

“She’s amazing. She’s working with the rebels, and she’s going to destroy Khronus. But you’ll see for yourself.”

“Don’t tell her you found me. She can’t risk coming here. She needs to stay far away.”

I won’t agree to that, but I just say, “Don’t worry about Sheela.”

There’s a sound from outside, and I go still. But it’s only distant footsteps that fade to nothing. All the same, I think it’s time to go.

I reach out and touch her one last time. “I promise, I’ll be back. I’ll find a way to free you.”

Then I straighten and walk out the doorway, whisper my spell, and the door forms, and I’m through. I could so easily have ended up down here. I still could, if Khronus discovers I’ve been nosing about.

I could leave and never look back. Take Josh and Zayne and run like hell. I should leave. And part of me wants to so badly, I can almost taste my freedom.

But this? These women? If I leave now, this all keeps happening. To someone else. And that’s not the kind of witch I want to be. Which means there’s no escaping this place for me, either. I’m as tied to the palace as Yasmin.

In fact, I’m well and truly screwed.

But first things first. Get Zayne and Josh to safety.

And do not mention that I’ll be heading straight back here.