The City of Glass and Soot

The morning came gray and cold. Oliver rose before the others, stepping out of the ruined chapel into air that felt heavy with dust. The moon was little more than a pale smear behind the clouds, giving the world a dim and colorless cast. Something that actually felt normal funny enough. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked toward the horizon. The faint outline of Vexmore’s spires glimmered far away, their tips catching the dull light like fragments of a broken mirror.

Lilith stirred behind him, her hair tangled and her cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Fernwyn joined the waking world, stretched and yawned. She glanced toward the distant city. “It is farther than I thought. The haze makes it look close, but we will be walking all day.”

“Then we start now,” Oliver said.

Having a quick meal of what few of the rations that were left and some bitter plants that Fernwyn said was safe, they left the chapel behind, crossing the uneven ground that stretched toward Vexmore. The land grew worse as they went. Fields had turned to gray dust, and bones of trees jutted from the soil like fingers reaching for air. The wind carried ash, soft as snow but bitter when it touched the tongue.

Hours passed in silence. The rhythm of walking filled Oliver’s mind, and the monotony of it dulled the ache in his chest. Every so often, he caught Lilith glancing at him with a small smile, as if trying to lift the weight she saw in his eyes. Fernwyn walked ahead, her movements quiet and deliberate, always scanning the distance.

By midday, the ruins of an outlying village appeared ahead. The houses leaned together like drunks after a fight, their roofs half-collapsed. A broken sign swung on one hinge, its faded lettering unreadable. Oliver slowed, feeling the unease crawl up his spine.

“Do you feel that?” Fernwyn asked.

He did. The air here was still, too still, as if sound refused to exist. Even their footsteps seemed muted. Lilith stepped closer, her expression cautious. “Something about this place feels wrong,” she whispered.

They moved through the village with care. The ground was littered with shards of glass, some as small as sand, others large enough to see faces in. The reflections were strange, distorted, as if showing the world a few seconds out of step with the present. Oliver caught sight of his own reflection lagging behind by a blink, and it made his stomach twist.

A sound broke the stillness. It was faint at first, like wind brushing against metal, but it grew quickly into a chorus of whispers. The reflections began to shimmer. Faces appeared where there should have been none, pressed against the glass as if trying to breathe through it.

Lilith gasped. “Oliver—”

“I see it.” He reached for her arm. “Stay close.”

The ground beneath them vibrated. The glass shards quivered, then rose into the air as if drawn by invisible strings. They hovered for a moment, catching the weak light, and then fell again all at once. The sound was like rain on a metal roof.

When the echoes faded, the faces were gone. The reflections had returned to normal. Fernwyn exhaled slowly. “The wards,” she said. “Vexmore’s magic is leaking this far already.”

Oliver looked toward the city again. The haze above it shimmered faintly, bending the light into strange colors. “It is protecting itself,” he said. “Maybe too well.”

They left the village behind, keeping a faster pace. As they drew closer to Vexmore, the ground began to change. Patches of smooth glass spread across the soil, some clear, others dark as obsidian. Each one reflected the sky in a different hue. The city itself loomed larger now, its walls rising from a sea of mirror-like stone.

By late afternoon, they reached the outer gate. Rain had arrived cold and sharp, falling in narrow sheets that hissed against the ruined streets. Oliver pulled his cloak tighter, watching the water gather in long black pools that reflected only fragments of light. The city of Vexmore spread around him like a corpse that refused to decay. Every street curved into another ruin, every ruin hid something breathing.

Lilith walked beside him, her hand brushing his arm whenever she stumbled on loose stone. She tried to smile each time she did, as if to chase away the silence. “You are too quiet, Trophy,” she said softly. “You get that look again, like you’re counting ghosts.”

He managed a small grin. “Maybe I am.”

Fernwyn moved ahead, her braid wet with rain. Her sharp eyes flicked from shadow to shadow, catching every flicker. “No ghosts,” she said, her tone calm and even. “Only watchers.”

Oliver followed her gaze. A dozen shapes hung in the fog, half visible, perched along the shattered arches that lined the avenue. They did not move. Their forms were human once, but their limbs were wrong, twisted and too long, their skin reflecting the rain in a dull metallic sheen. The reflections shifted when he looked at them directly, as though the figures existed slightly apart from the world.

“We should not linger,” Fernwyn murmured.

They crossed the broken square where a fountain lay half-collapsed. The water that should have been clear ran black, swirling around pieces of marble shaped like wings. The street beyond sloped downward toward the outer wall of the Cathedral district. The air thickened there, filled with a faint hum that grew stronger with each step.

Oliver felt it through his boots first, a trembling rhythm beneath the ground. The hum grew into a pulse, slow and steady, like a giant heart beating beneath the city.

“What is that?” Lilith whispered.

“The Mirror Seed,” Oliver said. “It has to be.”

Fernwyn turned, her eyes narrowing. “Or what guards it.”

A sudden crack split the air behind them. The watchers had moved. Their bodies uncoiled from the stone, their faces smooth and featureless. Each one carried a fragment of glass where a heart should have been, and light leaked from the cracks around it.

“Run,” Fernwyn said.

They sprinted through the street as the creatures descended. The first struck the ground so hard the stones shattered, sending fragments skittering across the pavement. Oliver ducked, grabbing Lilith’s hand as another lunged from the mist. Oliver swung with his sword, struck the creature and it folded inward like paper and vanished, leaving only a gust of air.

More came. Too many. Their reflections appeared on every wet surface, moving before their bodies did, predicting their attacks.

“Keep moving,” Oliver called. “Stay where the reflections break.”

They turned down a narrow street where the rain pooled unevenly. The uneven surfaces distorted the reflections, slowing the creatures as they hesitated between shapes. Fernwyn and Lilith had drawn their weapons as they moved.

“Keep them off me, Trophy,” she said, flashing a grin that did not reach her eyes.

He took position beside her, sword ready. The steel vibrated faintly in his grip, reacting to the energy in the air. The first creature lunged. He swung low, cutting through its legs. The moment the blade struck, the reflection beneath it shattered like glass. The creature screamed and folded into light.

Another came from behind. Lilith met it, her sword tracing a swift arc across its chest. It staggered but did not fall. Fernwyn’s blade cut it down.

They reached an intersection where the fog glowed green. The hum beneath their feet deepened into a roar. Ahead, a fissure split the ground open, leading to darkness. From within came a faint light, rhythmic and pulsing.

Why did everything have to be underground? The Abyssal Architects must have loved the dirt.

“This way,” Oliver said.

They climbed down carefully, the rocks slick with moisture. The fissure widened into a tunnel lined with shattered mirrors and veins of silver that pulsed faintly with light. The air was thick, tasting of rust and ozone and hum caused Oliver’s teeth to ache.

The hum became a low chant. Voices whispered through the tunnel, soft and rhythmic. They came from everywhere and nowhere, overlapping in languages Oliver could not understand. The sound crawled beneath his skin.

Then the reflections began to move again.

Shapes emerged from the mirrored walls, dragging themselves into reality. Their features mirrored those of the group, distorted but recognizable. A reflection of Lilith stepped forward first, her eyes hollow, her smile cruel. Another of Fernwyn followed, expressionless. Finally, Oliver saw his own reflection rise from the glass, sword already drawn.

Lilith gasped. “Oh, that is creepy. Make it go away, Trophy.”

He barely had time to answer before his double attacked. Their swords met, ringing like a bell. The reflected Oliver moved faster, stronger, its strikes perfect and cold. He felt each impact rattle his bones.

Fernwyn fought her mirror self in silence, her movements precise but strained. Lilith’s reflection laughed as it circled her, each sound mocking and too familiar.

Oliver’s double pressed him back against the wall. The blade came close enough that he felt the wind of its swing across his cheek. He feinted left and kicked forward, striking its chest. The reflection stumbled. He took the opening and drove his sword through it.

Light burst outward, shattering nearby mirrors. The others did the same, cutting down their reflections one by one. When the last fell, the walls trembled. The hum became a deep wail that made the air vibrate.

The tunnel shook as cracks spread across the ceiling. Shards rained down, slicing the air. Oliver grabbed Lilith and pulled her forward, sprinting as the floor gave way behind them. Fernwyn had gracefully leaped ahead safe with them. They burst into a wider chamber lit by hundreds of suspended shards of mirror, all slowly rotating. The light within them pulsed in time with their racing hearts.

At the center of the chamber stood an archway of stone, half buried and covered in veins of silver. Through it came a faint wind, cold and dry.

Fernwyn slowed, her voice barely a whisper. “The way to the Cathedral.”

Before they could reach it, something vast stirred in the darkness beyond the arch. Two enormous shapes unfolded, reflections overlapping until they became a single colossal form. A creature made entirely of mirrored plates rose, faceless and silent. Its limbs stretched like blades, and its chest held a single pulsing light.

Oliver raised his sword. “Keep it busy. I will find a way through.”

The creature moved, faster than it should have. Its arm swept across the chamber, scattering shards like rain. Lilith rolled aside, striking the floor and springing back up with surprising grace.

Oliver charged, his sword glowing faintly as he struck. The blade met the creature’s chest, ringing like steel against glass. The impact drove him back. The creature’s reflection wavered, splitting into three, then reforming.

It reached for him. He ducked beneath its arm and swung again, this time striking the glowing core in its chest. The sword sank deep. The light flared, and a sound like shattering crystal filled the chamber. The creature convulsed, its mirrored body folding inward before collapsing into dust.

Silence followed, broken only by their breathing.

Lilith leaned on her knees, laughing softly between breaths. “You are thee luckiest human I have ever met.”

“Being the emissary of the Bone Lord has it’s advantage.”

That must have been why the armor had gotten easier to use and the sword seeming to know what to do. Fernwyn wiped blood from her cheek and looked toward the archway. “It is open. We are close.”

Oliver stared at the passage beyond, where faint light flickered along the walls. The air there shimmered as if it resisted their presence. Whatever waited within, it was not part of the living world.

He sheathed his sword slowly. “We keep moving. The Cathedral is ahead.”

They stepped toward the archway, the last of the mirrored dust swirling around their feet. Behind them, the tunnel closed in silence, leaving only the echo of their footsteps and the hum that grew stronger with every step forward.