Back to: A Mirror of Shadows

BEX

The last thing my mother ever did was beg me to run.

I’d always been a rebellious child. Never doing as I was told. Always causing trouble. And even then, as her final breath crossed her lips, I refused to obey.

Instead, I crouched behind the door, watching through the crack as a woman my mother had once trusted knelt on her back. Up close she had looked human enough, but tonight, the edges of her hands blurred into smoke, and the extra dagger at her hip breathed shadow. She slid the blade across my mother’s throat like someone playing a violin.

Elegant and practiced.

Hot tears burned a river of sorrow down my cheeks as I watched her blood spread over the scratched hardwood. I couldn’t just stand there and watch.

With fists pressed against my mouth, I eyed the dagger on this demon’s hip, calculating the distance between us. Could I reach it fast enough?

I was five at the time and small for my age. I knew how to vanish in a room. How to make a step no one heard.

She’d never see me coming.

So what if I died, too? What was the point in living if I had to be alone?

But my mother’s emerald eyes held mine through the crack, begging me to go even as the spark of life drained from them.

“All of this is worth nothing if you don’t survive,” she’d told us over and over. “Your lives are worth a dozen of mine.”

Right now, though, watching as my older sister Trista struggled desperately against the man who held her arms, I didn’t feel like I was worth much.

I felt helpless. Weak.

Afraid when I should have been strong.

I wanted to save them, but it was already too late.

Trista’s scream echoed through me as the demon who had called my mother her friend stood and raised the shadowy dagger once again.

I turned away, unable to watch.

Ashamed, I obeyed my mother’s wishes, and I ran, abandoning the only family I’d ever known to death.

And now, exactly thirteen years to the day, I was running again.

This time from a different enemy. More subtle but just as dangerous.

On the surface, Peakwood Home for Troubled Girls was a dream—gardens, trails, a pool. Underneath, it was a training ground for a sinister group of witches called the Order of Shadows.

They took me in at ten, after I’d already bounced through foster care. They saw more than a girl with sticky fingers. They saw what I could do. Disappear into shadows. Move silently across a room. Slip through walls. At first, I was grateful. They gave me a bed, meals, a place to belong.

But belonging came at a cost.

The jobs got darker. More dangerous. And no amount of protest on my part had convinced them to ease up on the darkness.

Tonight, on my eighteenth birthday, they’d bind me to the Order forever. Not as a person who truly belonged, but as a tool to be used.

I wasn’t about to let that happen.

I grabbed my bag from under the bed, hands trembling. I didn’t have much time. I wasn’t even supposed to know about the ceremony in the first place, but when you could practically disappear, you sometimes discovered things no one ever meant for you to know.

Once I saw what they intended to do to me, I knew I had to go. No matter the risk.

The door burst open, nearly giving me a heart attack.

My best friend Maggie pushed her way inside, her dark curls teased into soft, feathered waves that framed her face. Her oversized sweatshirt was tucked into high-waisted jeans, and a collection of friendship bracelets adorned her wrists.

“Happy Birthday,” she said, smiling at first, until she noticed the bag on my bed.

“You aren’t seriously planning to go through with this. If they find out, Bex, they’ll—”

“They won’t.”

“They’ll know when they come for you later and you aren’t here,” she argued, twisting a piece of hair around her finger. “They’ll come after you. You know too many of their secrets. We all do.”

“I’ll be long gone by then.” I placed my hand on hers. “I know you’re worried about me, but I’m going to be okay. I can take care of myself.”

“And what about me?” she asked, eyes darkening. “I can’t disappear the way you can. I wouldn’t know the first thing about taking care of myself. You always said we were in this together, Bex. You can’t just leave me here.”

“You’ve still got a year before you turn eighteen. I’ll come back for you and you can decide then what you want to do.”

I didn’t want to leave her behind, but she would slow me down. Put us both in danger, and I was not about to be responsible for something terrible happening to her. 

I quickly crossed to my closet and threw an extra pair of jeans and a few T-shirts into my backpack. I’d never been as interested in clothes and style as Maggie, and I didn’t have much else that I cared about.

“If you have room in there for one more thing, I got you a present,” Maggie said, pulling a small purple box from her pocket.

All worry dropped from her eyes, replaced by a sparkle of joy as I opened it and gasped.

“What did you do? This must have cost a fortune.”

Inside, nestled against black silk, lay a dragonfly pendant wrought in silver. Its wings were etched with delicate lines, almost lace-like, and studded with tiny shards of amethyst that caught the light.

It was beautiful, fragile and fierce all at once, and it awakened some distant memory.

I closed my eyes, a flash of my mother’s laughter sounding in my ears. I could almost feel the feather-touch of her fingertips on the inside of my forearm, tracing some invisible pattern.

It took my breath away, and I had to open my eyes before I got lost in it.

“The lady who sold it to me said it would bring you luck.”

I traced a fingertip over one wing. The metal was cool, but a faint warmth pulsed underneath, like a heartbeat immediately synced with my own.

A strange shiver passed through me.

Like I’d seen this pendant before, and it had somehow found its way back to me after all these years. But that was ridiculous, right? I’d never owned anything this valuable in my life.

“What lady? Where in the world did you find something like this here in town?”

“It was at some outdoor market a few weeks ago,” she said. “The lady running it said she travels around doing these small shows. Apparently, she makes all her jewelry by hand, and I know it sounds wild, but it was like this piece called to me. I can’t explain it. I  saw it in my mind before I even saw her shop. And it was dirt cheap. She insisted you had to have it.”

I closed the box carefully, suddenly feeling the weight of it in more ways than I could express.

“Thank you,” I whispered, wondering if we ever would see each other again.

Maggie squeezed my hand, her smile trembling. “Just don’t forget to wear it tonight. Maybe it’ll keep you safe.”

Safe.

The word landed wrong in my chest. There was no safe anymore. Not here.

As if on cue, a rapid knock on the door threw us both into motion. I shoved my backpack under the bed as Maggie rushed to answer it.

Amelia, our house mom, stood in the frame, her expression flat and unreadable.

“Come with me,” she said. “There’s a job.”

Maggie and I froze and exchanged glances. Today? This was supposed to be our day off.

“Now,” Amelia snapped.

Maggie’s fingers tightened on mine, and her eyes sparked with fear.

Amelia never snapped at us like that. Did she know?

But that was impossible. I’d left no trace. Told no one. I’d even faked diary entries about my excitement in joining the Order soon.

“I’ll be right down,” I said, stalling. “I just have to go to the bathroom.”

Amelia frowned. “Make it quick.”

“Meet you downstairs in five.”

She shook her head. “No, not downstairs. Up.”

Her eyes flicked toward the ceiling, and my whole body went cold. Up meant the hidden third floor. The Hall of Doorways.

We were only ever taken there for official jobs. Assignments from a high-ranking Prima or the Amethyst Priestess herself. Never without warning and a few days of briefing about the tasks ahead and what was expected of us.

Never on a ritual day.

I ducked into the bathroom, shut the door, and pressed my back against it, heart racing. Just a job. That was all. Do the work, get back home as fast as possible. Then run. There would still be time.

With shaking hands, I slipped the dragonfly pendant onto a silver chain I’d stolen from a Prima’s house years ago and fastened it around my neck. The amethyst wings glimmered once in the dim light before I tucked it under my shirt.

I brushed my teeth in a rush, braided my thick brown waves with fumbling fingers, and shoved my bag into the closet before running to join them.

“Rebecca, you lead us up,” Amelia said, gesturing toward the wall.

To outsiders, it looked solid, but I had passed through the illusion a hundred times. The tingle of its magic skated across my skin as I walked straight through. Up the narrow stairs. Into the five-sided chamber.

The room was silent. Empty. Usually, a guard or emissary waited, collars of amethyst gleaming at their throats. Tonight, there was no one.

The emptiness pressed down like a warning. Amelia strode ahead and reached for the next door.

The one that opened into the endless Hall of Doorways.

The sight of it never ceased to steal my breath for a moment or quicken my heartbeat. Stretched out before us in either direction, row after row of wooden doorways, each marked with a symbol that represented the house of the Prima it belonged to.

Doors that, when opened, transported you to another town or country somewhere in the world in an instant.

Portals I usually looked forward to. Today, though, my heart raced as Amelia, a woman who had practically raised me at Peakwood Home, led us to a door I’d never seen, its surface slick like oil. 

“Inside,” she ordered.

My breath hitched as a chilling shadow seemed to fall over me, fear tightening my chest. Jobs came with instructions and cover stories. Targets.

Something was wrong.

Maggie shot me a nervous glance, and for an instant, I considered grabbing her hand and running. Taking the first door we could safely disappear into.

But that was just nerves, right? There was no way the Order knew about my plans.

Besides, we wouldn’t make it to the next door down. Amelia was too strong, and Maggie was too slow.

I just needed to stay calm, and everything would be okay. I would get us both out of this if things went bad.

We stepped through the door, expecting another five-sided room like the one at Peakwood. Instead, we walked into a chamber of cool black stone, bare but purposeful. Chains dangled from hooks along the walls. A drain ran down the center of the floor, rust-stained in a way that made my stomach turn.

Instinct finally kicked in, and I turned for the door, reaching for Maggie’s hand.

But it was too late. Chains snapped around our wrists and ankles. The locks clicked, final as a coffin. I attempted to vanish into nothingness, but the shackles deadened my magic, making me helpless against them.

I sucked in a panicked breath. This wasn’t a job at all.

This was an execution.

“Maggie had nothing to do with this.” I pulled furiously against the chains. “This was my plan—”

“I did everything you asked,” Maggie shouted. “You said you’d initiate her. That I’d be rewarded.”

Ice crawled through my veins as I realized she wasn’t talking to me. My lifelong best friend. The person I’d shared all my deepest secrets with.

How could I have made the same mistake my mother made?

How could I have trusted the wrong person?

For a moment, the fight left my body, head spinning with grief.

Maggie screamed and yanked harder against the chains. “You can’t do this to me.”

Amelia stepped just out of reach.

“I can do anything I want to traitors.”

A cloaked woman entered through the interior door, holding a glistening black stone the size of a heart in each hand, shadows coiling inside.

“No,” Maggie whispered, eyes wide, her whole body trembling. “Not that. Please.”

Amelia didn’t even look at us as she spoke. “You should be honored to finally give something worthwhile back to the Order that raised you.”

The cloaked figure approached Maggie and ripped the neck of her sweatshirt open. She placed the pulsing stone on bare skin as Maggie screamed. The stone attached itself to her as threads of violet light streamed into it, her life and magic feeding the glass.

Maggie’s fingertips found mine.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek as she went limp, her eyes glazing over. 

I lunged forward, chains rattling, the pendant she’d given me burning against my chest as anger and confusion raged through me. This wasn’t happening.

I couldn’t bear to watch another person I loved die right in front of me as I stood helpless, even if she had betrayed me.

Heat surged under my skin, a power I didn’t recognize trying to break free.

The cloaked figure pointed an outstretched finger at me, paralyzing my muscles with her silent command.

I felt five-years-old again. Vulnerable and ashamed. Scared but powerless to stop the scene unfolding before me. No matter how hard I struggled, I was powerless as she tore open the neck of my T-shirt and placed the cold soul stone against my skin. My pulse stuttered once, then thundered as the crystal began to drink.

All the years I’d spent trying to find my place in the world had been meaningless. I was going to die here, on my birthday, just like my mother and sister. The thought carved me open and rage poured through the cracks like molten lava.

I didn’t hold it back this time. I fed it to the stone. Every ounce of pain, loss, and fury. Let the Priestess choke on it when she consumed what was left of me.

The crystal’s light surged from violet to white-hot. A low hum filled the room, rising, splitting the air.

“Something’s wrong,” the cloaked woman hissed. “What is this girl’s true nature? What haven’t you told us about her?”

The chains seared my wrists. Shadows rippled from my skin, thick as smoke. Then came the sound of shattering glass as the soul stone exploded.

Shards spun outward like a thousand tiny comets. Amelia screamed as one sliced her cheek open, another embedding deep in her shoulder. The cloaked woman lay on the ground, blood pouring from a wound I couldn’t see.

What was happening to me?

And what did she mean, my true nature? 

I expected the light to fade now that the soul stone had been destroyed, but it didn’t. It multiplied, magical threads like spiderwebs expanding through the room as time slowed and reality split in two.

A rift formed before my eyes, revealing a room with shimmering violet walls. At its center stood a mirror taller than any doorway, framed in blackened gold, the surface shifting like liquid glass. Shadows rippled inside it, too slow to be reflections, as though something lived within its depths, waiting. Watching.

The air between us pulsed once, hard enough to rattle the chains. And I knew, whatever that mirror was, it was calling me.

But calling me to where? Freedom?

It was my only escape, and yet, I hesitated. Unsure whether I had created this rift myself or if someone had opened it for me.

The sound of boots pounded down the hall outside the interior door. Reinforcements. There would be no second chance.

My mother’s voice rose from memory, trembling and fierce.

Run.

I reached for the mirror, the chains around my wrists and ankles shattering as I moved. The silver surface trembled, then swallowed me whole.

Cold magic consumed me, twisting, crushing. My stomach lurched, and I lost touch with reality as the world flipped inside out.

When the magic released me, I crashed to my knees in dust and ash. The air reeked of smoke, thick enough to burn my throat. Wind cut across the open ground, carrying the copper sting of blood.

I looked up to find the mirror that brought me here was gone. Instead, fifty or so people stood in the center of an arena ringed with stone walls, staring at me with mixed expressions. Some wore battered armor made of leather and iron. Others held weapons that seemed to come from another era.

Spears. Swords. Flails. Nets.

Some had mud smeared across their limbs and faces. Others were wrapped with rough-edged bandages barely holding back the flow of blood.

And in the center of them all stood a man, the blade of his sword dripping crimson. A body motionless at his feet.

Scars mapped the hard muscles of his arms and chest. Strands of black hair fell loosely over a face too sharp to be beautiful.

When he turned, storm-gray eyes found mine, and the world narrowed until he was the only thing I could see. Everything in me went still, as if he’d stolen my ability to breathe.

Power rolled off him, quiet and absolute. It wasn’t just magic. It was something older. Something that made the air bend around him.

Something that made every part of me tremble in fear. I needed to run.

Only, there was nowhere to go. Where the hell had that mirror taken me?

The warrior crossed the sand in three strides and seized me by the collar, hauling me to my feet like I weighed nothing. He was massive, all hard lines and pure strength as he towered over me.

“What is this place?” I rasped, breathless.

He looked me over, sharp and cold as his gaze locked onto the amethyst pendant. For a heartbeat, something flashed in his eyes. Recognition. Disgust. Fear.

Then the hardness snapped back into place.

“This,” he said, voice low and lethal, “is where you will die.”

He dropped me to the ground like I meant nothing.

“Take her to the dungeons,” he commanded.

Two guards stepped forward, grips like iron as they dragged me backward.

I screamed, refusing to believe I’d avoided death only to be brought into a new nightmare.

“What’s happening?” I cried, my voice raw. “Is this hell?”

One of the guards looked down at me with an amused smirk.

“By the time this place is done with you,” he said with a low laugh, “you’ll wish it was only hell.”

He leaned toward me, eyes gleaming with cruelty. 

“Welcome to the Shadow Games.”