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Ever since she was a kid, Mirian had heard tales of mirrors that were doors to other worlds. Don't turn your back to a mirror, the superstitious people of her village would say, or someone from the other side would take you away.

A load of horsecrap from spineless cowards, she figured. They feared any kind of magic after all, preferring a reclusive, peaceful lifestyle. Mirian thought that she and her sister deserved more though. She became their trouble child, scrapping off on whatever teachings she could find to become a powerful mage, and when she judged herself good enough, she set off with her sister Moira to find a place where they could be truly happy.

Days and days of travel led Mirian and Moira to Fortune Forest, a mysterious place that always gathered the attention of many mages trying to prod its secrets. Mirian would have been happy enough already to live in one of the nearby towns, but it was exploring its depths that she found her jackpot. A huge abandoned temple lied there, standing tall and strong despite the clear signs of age. Mirian laughed as she found mirror after luxurious mirror in the building's rooms. Was it really just superstition that left that beautiful place free for the taking? Even if that wasn't all of it, she wasn't against conquering it from some otherworldly fiend or another.

Moira wasn't into tempting fate as much as her sister though, so they did take off most of the mirrors and worked cautiously as they cleaned and prepared their great new home. For years and years they lived like queens in the huge building, with Mirian growing ever stronger, enchanting statues to be servants, and bringing back more treasure and riches from adventures.

With time, Moira too grew an interest in magic and adventure, but she was much different from her sister. To her, magic was a way to express feelings, or simply have fun. She filled a picture book drawings of moments she treasured, called it her "grimoire", and learned to cast all kinds of spells depending on the memories pictured. Alongside her sister who could animate all kinds of objects, they made an unpredictable duo.

One day they had to hunt a Crowned Steelbull.

It was an emergency. The Crowned Steelbull was a giant beast covered in metal, with five horns and a sharp pointed tail, that usually lived in mountainous areas, but that one was driven to Fortune Forest somehow. Likely a disastrous mistake of some incompetent hunter. Mirian hated the thought of other people coming to the forest and maybe making a fuss over the temple she took, so she wanted to solve the problem herself as soon as possible.

That haste was her downfall. The statues she took were no match for the beast's strength, and as she circled it trying to find its weak spots she didn't see the tail swinging at her. It stabbed her leg and left her limping. But instead of striking her again, it turned around. Moira had gotten its attention.

A deadly chase began as Moira lured the beast towards the temple while still trying to let her sister keep up. It was a risky gambit that could destroy their home, but there Mirian could get more of her tools and weapons. Some of them could give them the edge they needed.

The stumbling Mirian caught up to them at the exact moment the beast rammed full force through one of the temple's walls. It shook its head to rid itself of the rubble and Mirian saw red. Red blood driped from its horns.

Moira must had been right that magic was all about feelings, because Mirian's hatred burned like fuel that day. She was barely conscious through the motions, the possessed statues, the blades ripped from the walls, the trampling, crushing, slashing of the creature that dared an attempt at the life of her little sister. She didn't waste more than a glance at the gruesome result of her rage. Where was her? Where was the one she actually wanted, no, had to see, to save.

The dreaded color guided her again. Red colored the water of the pool in the middle of the room. She dived in, wondering why was it so deep to begin with. Why wasn't Moira rising up yet. Why was she nowhere to be found.

At the bottom of the pool, everything she found was a mirror.

Years later, Mirian is still a well known figure around Fortune Forest. The local mages still seek for her help at times, but they are warned: she is eccentric, to say the least. She almost always has a pocket mirror at hand, not sparing a glance at who she's talking to. Her eyes flicker madly to every metal or jewel, as if obsessed with her own reflection. No one has seen her home, but many have seen her take the oddest things into the forest, from picture books to carousels. And she is terribly harsh with beginner mages. A vain, moody witch, most think.

She lets them think that. It's less humiliating than admitting she seeks desperately for a glimpse of her sister at every reflective surface, that she has spent nights after nights crying, screaming, begging at that temple to take her away too. That she has researched so many books and so many rituals and so many spells and sank as low as to try to lure her sister with her favorite things because who's to say it won't work when she lost her to a fairy tale? Curse magic, and curse her arrogance and how she thought she had the world under her feet; She knew nothing, and she still knows nothing, and no one else does either.

May those rookie idiots find another path while there's still time. She doesn't wish this on anyone else.

Ever since she was a kid, Elisabeth had heard tales of mirrors that were doors to other worlds. Don't go to sleep with a mirror uncovered, the townspeople would say, or someone from the other world will come and take your place.

An amusing story to scare children with, in simpler times. As things were then people didn't have much time for fairy tales anymore, between the country's oppressive regime and the increasing conflicts with rebels. Everyone had enough to be scared of without thinking of other worlds.

Not that Elisabeth knew anything, mind you. She was but a humble seamstress in the countryside trying to make ends meet for her and her brother, and if she sold the occasional armor or weapon or medicine to rebels who knew her address by heart, well, no one had found out yet.

There were more exciting people to notice in the rebellion anyway. Like Lysandra the Tigress, a masked heroine who caused quite a ruckus in the area for a while, with her striped armor and cunning leadership. The local police force was eager to declare her dead years ago after an ambush, but that was their biggest mistake. She came back stronger, carrying a mysterious grimoire that could summon metallic beasts and water traps to conquer her enemies. Some now called her Lysandra the Witch, and her miraculous deeds boosted the rebels' morale to the heavens.

People are good at lying to themselves, Elisabeth knew that very well. The true Lysandra was her beloved little sister who fought so dearly for a better future and ended like so many of her friends, dead in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of holes in her chest, the older sister soon to join her if she had not ran for her life, denied even a proper goodbye, a burial for her dear sister, as she always feared it would be with the life they led.

She couldn't tell if she regretted it or not, as her sister's dreams came closer and closer to fruition, all at the hands of a fake. Anyone should have been suspicious of a girl who couldn't explain her own survival nor her weapon, and had none of Lysandra's expertise. But everyone would have rather their miracle and her power, so no one looked too deep into it. Elisabeth wouldn't say a word either. No need to destroy others' hopes, especially when this was exactly what she bargained for.

Her sister must still be lying dead somewhere, along the enchanted mirror she left at her side as a delusional attempt to not lose her. Now no words would be enough to apologize for the mess she caused.

Description
Ever since she was a kid, Mirian had heard tales of mirrors that were doors to other worlds. Don't turn your back to a mirror, the superstitious people of her village would say, or someone from the other side would take you away.

A load of horsecrap from spineless cowards, she figured. They feared any kind of magic after all, preferring a reclusive, peaceful lifestyle. Mirian thought that she and her sister deserved more though. She became their trouble child, scrapping off on whatever teachings she could find to become a powerful mage, and when she judged herself good enough, she set off with her sister Moira to find a place where they could be truly happy.

Days and days of travel led Mirian and Moira to Fortune Forest, a mysterious place that always gathered the attention of many mages trying to prod its secrets. Mirian would have been happy enough already to live in one of the nearby towns, but it was exploring its depths that she found her jackpot. A huge abandoned temple lied there, standing tall and strong despite the clear signs of age. Mirian laughed as she found mirror after luxurious mirror in the building's rooms. Was it really just superstition that left that beautiful place free for the taking? Even if that wasn't all of it, she wasn't against conquering it from some otherworldly fiend or another.

Moira wasn't into tempting fate as much as her sister though, so they did take off most of the mirrors and worked cautiously as they cleaned and prepared their great new home. For years and years they lived like queens in the huge building, with Mirian growing ever stronger, enchanting statues to be servants, and bringing back more treasure and riches from adventures.

With time, Moira too grew an interest in magic and adventure, but she was much different from her sister. To her, magic was a way to express feelings, or simply have fun. She filled a picture book drawings of moments she treasured, called it her "grimoire", and learned to cast all kinds of spells depending on the memories pictured. Alongside her sister who could animate all kinds of objects, they made an unpredictable duo.

One day they had to hunt a Crowned Steelbull.

It was an emergency. The Crowned Steelbull was a giant beast covered in metal, with five horns and a sharp pointed tail, that usually lived in mountainous areas, but that one was driven to Fortune Forest somehow. Likely a disastrous mistake of some incompetent hunter. Mirian hated the thought of other people coming to the forest and maybe making a fuss over the temple she took, so she wanted to solve the problem herself as soon as possible.

That haste was her downfall. The statues she took were no match for the beast's strength, and as she circled it trying to find its weak spots she didn't see the tail swinging at her. It stabbed her leg and left her limping. But instead of striking her again, it turned around. Moira had gotten its attention.

A deadly chase began as Moira lured the beast towards the temple while still trying to let her sister keep up. It was a risky gambit that could destroy their home, but there Mirian could get more of her tools and weapons. Some of them could give them the edge they needed.

The stumbling Mirian caught up to them at the exact moment the beast rammed full force through one of the temple's walls. It shook its head to rid itself of the rubble and Mirian saw red. Red blood driped from its horns.

Moira must had been right that magic was all about feelings, because Mirian's hatred burned like fuel that day. She was barely conscious through the motions, the possessed statues, the blades ripped from the walls, the trampling, crushing, slashing of the creature that dared an attempt at the life of her little sister. She didn't waste more than a glance at the gruesome result of her rage. Where was her? Where was the one she actually wanted, no, had to see, to save.

The dreaded color guided her again. Red colored the water of the pool in the middle of the room. She dived in, wondering why was it so deep to begin with. Why wasn't Moira rising up yet. Why was she nowhere to be found.

At the bottom of the pool, everything she found was a mirror.

Years later, Mirian is still a well known figure around Fortune Forest. The local mages still seek for her help at times, but they are warned: she is eccentric, to say the least. She almost always has a pocket mirror at hand, not sparing a glance at who she's talking to. Her eyes flicker madly to every metal or jewel, as if obsessed with her own reflection. No one has seen her home, but many have seen her take the oddest things into the forest, from picture books to carousels. And she is terribly harsh with beginner mages. A vain, moody witch, most think.

She lets them think that. It's less humiliating than admitting she seeks desperately for a glimpse of her sister at every reflective surface, that she has spent nights after nights crying, screaming, begging at that temple to take her away too. That she has researched so many books and so many rituals and so many spells and sank as low as to try to lure her sister with her favorite things because who's to say it won't work when she lost her to a fairy tale? Curse magic, and curse her arrogance and how she thought she had the world under her feet; She knew nothing, and she still knows nothing, and no one else does either.

May those rookie idiots find another path while there's still time. She doesn't wish this on anyone else.

Ever since she was a kid, Elisabeth had heard tales of mirrors that were doors to other worlds. Don't go to sleep with a mirror uncovered, the townspeople would say, or someone from the other world will come and take your place.

An amusing story to scare children with, in simpler times. As things were then people didn't have much time for fairy tales anymore, between the country's oppressive regime and the increasing conflicts with rebels. Everyone had enough to be scared of without thinking of other worlds.

Not that Elisabeth knew anything, mind you. She was but a humble seamstress in the countryside trying to make ends meet for her and her brother, and if she sold the occasional armor or weapon or medicine to rebels who knew her address by heart, well, no one had found out yet.

There were more exciting people to notice in the rebellion anyway. Like Lysandra the Tigress, a masked heroine who caused quite a ruckus in the area for a while, with her striped armor and cunning leadership. The local police force was eager to declare her dead years ago after an ambush, but that was their biggest mistake. She came back stronger, carrying a mysterious grimoire that could summon metallic beasts and water traps to conquer her enemies. Some now called her Lysandra the Witch, and her miraculous deeds boosted the rebels' morale to the heavens.

People are good at lying to themselves, Elisabeth knew that very well. The true Lysandra was her beloved little sister who fought so dearly for a better future and ended like so many of her friends, dead in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of holes in her chest, the older sister soon to join her if she had not ran for her life, denied even a proper goodbye, a burial for her dear sister, as she always feared it would be with the life they led.

She couldn't tell if she regretted it or not, as her sister's dreams came closer and closer to fruition, all at the hands of a fake. Anyone should have been suspicious of a girl who couldn't explain her own survival nor her weapon, and had none of Lysandra's expertise. But everyone would have rather their miracle and her power, so no one looked too deep into it. Elisabeth wouldn't say a word either. No need to destroy others' hopes, especially when this was exactly what she bargained for.

Her sister must still be lying dead somewhere, along the enchanted mirror she left at her side as a delusional attempt to not lose her. Now no words would be enough to apologize for the mess she caused.