Room2b
Jora reaches out for the surface of the mirror; somehow this seems like the right thing to do.
As his hand touches the glass, it ripples like the water of a pond.
The mirror is cold, colder than the deepest snow he has ever experienced. He cries out in pain as the cold penetrates his fingers to the bone.
A force reaches out from the mirror and engulfs the small band. They feel themselves rushing into the mirror.
The world around them warps and twists and after a seeming eternity, they stand in the same room.
Something is subtly different. It takes a moment for realization to sink in.
“The mirrors, they’re gone,” Safir says.
“So is the black door,” Conrad says.
“I think we’re inside the mirror,” Lamia says.
“The red potion is on the table.”
“I guess I better drink it then,” Jora says.
“Why?” Lamia grabs his hand before he can reach for the vial. “Let’s just go through the next door. It’s obvious where we go now.”
“I don’t think it works that way but sure. Conrad, give the door a try.”
Conrad reaches for the white door and yelps in pain.
“It bit me. It was like when there’s lightning nearby and you get a shock touching metal, but really powerful.”
“See,” Jora says. “We have to play the wizard’s game and that means following through on whatever choice we made by selecting the mirror.”
He grabs the vial and tosses it back in one quick swallow.
“Gah, that was horrible,” he says.
Jora’s body jerks upright and he begins to shake violently.
“Jora,” Safir screams. “Lamia, help me.”
The girls rush to Jora’s side and take hold of his arms in an attempt to steady the wildly rocking boy.
The girls are nearly knocked off their feet by the violence of his spasms and then, just as quickly as it started, the spasm ends. Jora’s body loses its rigidity and he hangs his head, seemingly exhausted from his ordeal.
“Are you OK?” Lamia bends down to try to look Jora in the face and then recoils.
“Oh my Gods; your eyes.”
Jora lifts his head and reveals his eyes. They have changed to the same blood-red hue as the potion. Not only the iris has transformed, but the pupil and even the sclera are also now the same color. His eyes resemble bloody marbles, devoid of features.
Jora smiles at Lamia. It’s not the friendly smile he has shown her every day of their lives, it is the toothsome rictus of a deranged person. A muscle twitches in his cheek and then his hand flies to the hilt of his sword.
As he draws the blade, Lamia looks around for whatever threat has prompted his action.
Safir cries out, pulling Lamia’s focus back to Jora. She screams and backs away from her friend. Jora stands with Safir impaled upon his sword. Blood washes over his hand as he lifts the sword and the dead girl into the air all the while grinning maniacally.
“What are you doing?” Conrad advances on Jora, his hand resting on the hilt of his own sword.
Jora focuses his strange eyes on the boy and with a flick of his wrist sends Safir’s lifeless body tumbling across the room.
Jora raises his blood-caked sword and charges toward Conrad. The boy struggles to draw his blade to protect himself but the weapon binds in the ill-kept scabbard. He only has time to say Jora’s name before the bloody blade slashes across his throat, killing him.
“Jora, please,” Lamia says, backing away from the blood-soaked boy.
“Stop this. You have to fight it.”
Jora’s expression never changes; his blank eyes seem to stare through Lamia as he mechanically advances on her.
“Please, Jora. We’re friends.”
The sword swings one final time and Lamia’s head rolls across the room.
Jora turns in a circle, surveying the carnage and begins to giggle. He reverses the sword and places the point against his diaphragm. He then falls forward driving the weapon deep inside his chest.
Jora continues to giggle until he dies.