Crescent

15

In the woods, there stood a single mirror. Tall trees rose like giants around Vera, dark as night and their leaves overhead black like ink. They pressed against her on all sides. Tall grass rose up to her knees, swaying in a breeze that never touched her. Shadows surrounded her, but the scene could not touch her heart. She stared, instead, at the mirror.

Its frame was simple, carved from smooth, dark wood almost as deep in shade as the forest around her. It gleamed silver in the darkness, too bright to see anything in the polished glass. She crept closer; the grass was thick like sludge, clinging to her pants as she fought to approach the mirror. A few steps in and the grass retreated suddenly. It pulled back from her like the tides, and she stumbled. Her hand met the cool glass to steady herself. It was ice against her palm.

Rather than staring into her own eyes, Vera found herself looking at a reflection of the forest. Only on the other side of the mirror, the canopy of leaves parted to allow a wash of silver light to bathe the landscape. A silver dish hung in the sky—a moon so full that it was almost unreal. It was too round, too large, too perfect. Nothing like the crescent she had become used to. Its face was downturned, gazing upon the forest below with solemn grace.

Something shifted through the underbrush. Beyond the mirror, a man paced through the woods, weaving around trees in his path. He was muttering to himself as he walked, a low, discordant sound that rattled her insides. Sometimes, he covered his mouth with his hand and laughed to himself. When he turned, the light caught on a large scar cut across his face, one that glittered with tiny stars inside the discolored flesh. The whites of one eye had turned indigo to match his scar; it was striking against the pale blue of his irises that swept across the scene, always moving, always glancing about.

Vera leaned in, her brow furrowing. The man bathed in silver hoarded all the light.

He stopped. His gaze snapped to her, and he lurched to the mirror's edge with a wild gleam in his mismatched eyes. He was close enough that his breath fanned her face; the stench of rot overwhelmed her, but she stood still.

"The truth," he rasped. A grin split his cracked, dry lips. "That's you. Vera Reite."

Something crackled in the air. With a sharp pull, a fist around her heart, Vera slammed against the glass. Her name on his tongue was a dagger that cut her flesh. Hot blood poured at her feet, and she could taste the metallic tang. Fear crystallized in her veins. Fae magic.

She tried to push away from the mirror, but her skin had melded to the surface. Each pull sent a jolt of lightning through her.

"Vera Reite. Vera, Vera, Vera." Cold hands grabbed her face and yanked it toward the man. Pointed ears stuck out beneath his hair. His smile oozed with lies, stretched too far up his face. "You were born in darkness," he cooed, almost singing in his raspy voice like the scrape of metal against her ears. "No moonlight shines upon you. I know the name of the unseelie, and it is Vera Reite."

His grip tightened, long claws digging into her flesh. With a harsh tug, he pulled her into the mirror.

Vera screamed, finding her voice, and yanked against him. Claws raked her face, but she pulled free. The momentum threw her back, but she quickly regained her footing and grabbed the mirror's frame. With a roar, she threw it against the ground. A loud crack shook the air like the peal of thunder, and silver light split the sky. Shards of glass littered the forest floor, splayed around the broken mirror in a perfect arrangement.

Ve. Someone was calling her from deeper within the forest, miles and miles away. His voice cracked in fear.

Breathless and shaky, blood dripping from her face, Vera fell to her knees. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the fractured mirror, cloaked in darkness all over. Many eyes stared back at her from many faces, but none of them were hers. Like a puzzle, the cracks formed a new image—a splintered, broken one that cried in agony.