Room9b
“Let me,” Lamia says and reaches for the white mirror.
The surface of the glass rushes across them. Their images quadruple, quintuple and repeat to infinity in directions they cannot even name. Conrad collapses to his knees, disoriented.
The room returns to normal. Conrad kneels on the floor, dry heaving while studiously avoiding looking at the mirrors which still line the walls. The magic mirrors are gone. Both the white and yellow doors remain.
In the center of the room is a large bucket filled with a thick black liquid. A large brush made of rags tied to a stick lies on the ground beside the bucket.
“I think this is the most fun choice so far,” Lamia says, grinning broadly.
She dips the brush into the bucket and then slaps it against the mirror. A splatter of black coats the mirror and sprays the area around the girl.
She giggles and then begins to rapidly slather the mirrors with black. In no time at all, the reflective surfaces are obliterated and Lamia looks like she has contracted some strange disease which has covered her in black spots.
“That was fun,” she says.
“So what did that accomplish?” Safir stares around the room in confusion.
“Maybe the mirrors would have done something bad if we didn’t cover them,” Conrad suggests.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jora says. “What’s done is done. Let’s get out of this place.”
What choice should the adventurers make?