The Shape Of Magic

Ever since that day, I’ve been wondering what the shape of magic even means, how do you define the shape of something that takes shape depending on who uses it?

“Is magic... even real?” The silence that followed told me that maybe I had begun to lose my mind, with hopes of centring myself back in this world, I decided to attempt to find this shape.

“Here goes nothing”, I contemplated, wondering if this would even work. I closed my eyes and focused. I could feel warmth pulse outward from my chest, like something stirring beneath the surface.

I opened my eyes, and the tips of my hair began to glow crimson, as red particles started to glow around me.

I reached out and held my hand flat as the particles began to gather at the centre of my palm.

A shape began to show, one that looked like a familiar flower. It felt warm, and the glow of the magic captivated me almost as if it were a part of me.

But then… a split. A Tremor.

The light began to crack and twist almost as if it were distorted. Before long, the shape that once resembled a flower shattered, and fragments fell into the palm of my hand. Tears began to form at the bottom of my eyes, the broken fragments of what seemed like hope in the palm of my hand.

Nothing but silence followed as the shards lay in my hand, crimson still, but cold, almost lifeless. I could feel my tears rolling down my face. Maybe it was always meant to be like this. I stared at the broken fragments in my hand with tears blurring my vision, and I made a decision.

“This must never come to light”, I murmured, tears rolling down my face, wondering if there was any hope of fixing what is already broken.

“No matter where I look, my reflection is still just as broken as back then”, I claimed, as the image of the broken mirror on the floor echoed back in my mind.

I wasn’t always like this. I used to be quite happy, actually. I used to think about all sorts of things, and then, one day, I stopped. I can’t remember why, but at some point, I stopped caring about myself.

“H…help” echoed a mysterious voice

I woke from my self-induced daze and stood up while wiping my tears from my eyes. I tried to focus on the voice that seemed to be echoing through the fabric that made up this world.

“Help…me” The same voice echoed, unable to determine where it came from, I looked around for anything that could give me a clue. My head begins to hurt, and I fall to the ground. My vision grows hazed, almost as if there is interference with the light that touches my eyes. My memory becomes fragmented as the pain grows worse, a strange woman dressed in the purest dress, almost as if snow is flowing from her waist to the floor. She looks worried, distraught. I reach out my hand to try and grab hold of anything.

“Who are you?” I ask, she says nothing, but my eyes follow her finger as she points to the left.

“Save….Them” she whimpers as a tear rolls down her pure face, the world around us begins to crack and twist as light itself begins to warp. Before I could ask her for her name, the reality that once held my mind shattered. I awoke, met with the pale white ceiling of what looked like a hospital.

No answers. No Truth. No Reality.

I look around, trying to come to grips with what I’ve just witnessed.

“Was it real? Who was that? Am I real?” I panic and begin to stand on my legs, which shake under the weight of the questions on my mind. I pause, but not out of pain, out of worry that maybe even my reflection has been lying to me.

“Ah, you're awake”, a calm but deep voice came from the door. As I turned around, what was to meet my eyes was a man, dressed in clothes of someone important, gold accented his white robes like rays of importance. He looks at me with a friendly and welcoming smile on his face, young, with his hair sitting nicely behind his shoulders.

I should ask him some questions, I thought to myself, but before I could open my mouth-

“You are in the temple of mirrors, and I am the master of said temple”

“You may call me the Master of Mirrors,” he said, with a look on his face that showed me that maybe he knows more than I think.

“Shall we take a stroll?” He asks, while using the book in his hand to signal the direction we should take.

“S…sure”, I hesitated, wondering if this priest was on my side or not, what secrets could he be hiding, what is he keeping from the light? With this in the back of my mind, I followed the priest into the main hall. I stepped inside, the brightness of my surroundings almost blinding me, and when my eyes adjusted, the world that I saw was almost unbelievable. A pure white garden, full of flowers made of glass, each one representing a person’s life, none are withered, all are in pristine condition. In the middle of the garden, a book lay on a pedestal, bathed in light. Looks important, I thought to myself, but before I could ask the priest what the book was, he responded to my question.

“That book is the book of light and holds the record of every soul that resides within this world, we call them.. Reflections” The room fell quiet for a moment, almost as if the world itself waited for my response. I paused for a moment, gathering my thoughts.

“R..Reflection, you say?” I pondered, wondering what this could mean for the world around me. Is this a reflection of what is or what’s to come?

“Can you tell me more about these reflections?” I inquire, hoping to find some answers, yet worried about what they could mean for me.

“Of course!” The priest assures me, clearing his throat like he is about to tell a long story.

“Reflections are the hidden side of a person; they represent anything they shunned”, he explained, but before I could wrap my head around the concept, he continued.

“You see, this world is a mirror world to the one you came from”

“So this is a place that stores another version of us?” I enquire, hoping to understand the predicament I’ve placed myself into.

“Not quite, this world stores this Side of you while the other remains on the other side”

He began to dive deep into what this world was. From what I gathered, I existed in both this world and my old world at the same time, both living, but only one was alive. As I began to understand the severity of what this all meant, my eyes were drawn once again to the book shining in the middle of the garden.

“What is the importance of that book?” I asked the priest, questioning if the book was just another reflection.

“That book holds the name of all who reside here”, the priest stated, with curiosity taking hold. I walked up to the podium and started to skim through the list of names. Hoping to find a place for myself, I searched all the pages in the book, only to realise my name was nowhere to be found.

I turned around, book clenched closely to my chest, “Why is my name not in this book?” I questioned, wondering what I had to do in order to have my name carved here. The priest didn’t answer my question, but his face remained unchanged from the smile he had since we met.

“W…Why is my name not in the book?” I questioned once more, this time my breath began to grow shallow as I could feel the walls around me crawling closer. My grip on the book tightened. My breath grew shallower with each passing second. My mind is racing, trying to find a question that would be answered.

“W…Who am I?” My grip tightened upon saying this question, the weight of not knowing who I was showing on my shaking legs. The words barely left the vicinity of the air around us, and silence returned once again, only to be broken by the rising of a high-pitched noise in my right ear. The noise was only getting more painful as time went on. I could hear the faint sound of the priest asking if I was okay, but I couldn’t answer. A familiar voice whispered in my ear again.

“You are a distortion.” The voice whispered, although quiet, it shot through my body like a gunshot.

“Distortion…Distortion…Distortion…!” My mind began to spin, and all I could think about was the word. “WHAT IS A DISTORTION!” I shouted, all the breath I had left my body gone in an instant as I fell to my knees. I couldn’t feel anything, other than the weight of the words that I heard that day.