SML Ch 85

Chapter 85

“You all felt stares? I don’t sense anything…”

Volant, wandering the far end of the library, came back blinking in confusion. Each time he turned his head, the countless reflections followed in unison—an effect dizzying to behold.

“I sensed it. At first thought it was just distraction keeping me from reading…”

“I did too, Sir Reynald. I don’t understand what force it is.”

Arun and Serna spoke almost at once, and Alex nodded gravely. Volant’s eyes went wide at their agreement.

“What? I’m the only one who feels nothing? Why?”

“Hard to say. But notice—you’re the only one not reading. That’s the only difference.”

Indeed, Volant had merely held a book idly—never opened a page. Heide’s words earlier rang clear: while cleaning here, no unease arose—until he began reading.

So the trigger was the books. When they read, something in the mirrors watched. Serna glanced about, half-thrilled, half-worried.

“This library truly is no ordinary place, Sir Reynald. I let my guard down when the doll denied any secret passage.”

“Yet even without passages… some hidden presence is watching us. No wonder the doll hesitated at the answer.” Reynald broke off suddenly, brow furrowed. “Volant—you had the doll on your shoulder. Where is it now?”

“…What? Why—oh!”

Only now did Volant realize. The clockwork doll was gone. Normally, if mentioned, it would drift into view at once. Here, with so many mirrors, even a reflection of it should be visible—but there was nothing.

“The doll’s vanished! It was perched on me just minutes ago!”

“It wouldn’t hide from us deliberately. There’s no reason it would.”

Reynald eyed Volant’s shoulder, uneasy. The doll was forever erratic, yes—but its absence here boded ill.

“We must find it. Whatever happens, the doll is vital to grasping truth.”

“It can’t have left. We shut the door. No sound of opening.”

“Then within this room. And no secret doors, if the doll itself denied them.”

They rose. But Heide remained seated. He had been touching a mirror’s surface, trance-like, and only startled when Reynald tapped his shoulder.

“…Why so lost?”

“Oh—I… worried for the doll, is all.”

Heide rose, pale, clutching his knee with a groan. “Perhaps we should divide and search carefully.”

“It’s not so wide a library. But… fair enough—let us cover everything.”

So they split. Heide, Arun, and Serna took the right side. Reynald, Alex, and Volant the left. Heide looked reluctant to part from Alex, but Reynald imposed the division. He had his own quiet suspicions.

They searched. Fitting places, cracks, shelves—no sign of the doll. Volant called softly, “Doll, where did you go?” Alex searched too, but his eyes kept warily on the feel of watching.

Drawing near Reynald, Alex whispered: “If caused by monster or magical creature… do you suspect who?”

Reynald nodded. “Mirror-bound entities are distinct. Often constructs of magi. Their reflections manipulated, attacking intruders.”

“But mirror images—how attack the real outside?”

“The reflection is but conduit. The actual force is spell pre-woven. Easier than commanding invisible phantoms.”

“So then… might these gazes attack us soon? Intruders trespassing their books?”

Reynald shook his head. “Remember the rules painted: do not remove, do not cover, do not take books outside. None forbid reading.”

“…But still.”

“And consider—the castle lacked a ruler for decades, perhaps centuries. If written then, these books would serve villagers themselves. Who then would set traps to harm those same users?”

“…Villagers indeed.”

“Exactly. People like Volant or Heide. Attacks seem unlikely without broken rules.”

He glanced at Volant, who still pawed shelves distractedly, book dangling. Undoubtedly he was listening. Reynald continued aloud:

“…Though possibility remains it is not construct at all, but fae.”

“Fae? How differ from monsters?”

“They dwell not in our world—yet slip through gates. They live by whim, indifferent to man, sometimes toying with us when bored. No true malice, but no mercy either.”

Arun’s problem years ago had taught Reynald much of them. He knew their tricks.

“Their traits reflect their gateways. From water—watery traits. From mirrors…”

“…mimicry? Or reversal?” Alex asked.

Reynald nodded. “One—mimicking those reflected. The other—reversing: left to right, weak to strong… the skills one lacks, suddenly gained.”

He looked deliberately at Volant as he said this. Volant’s eyes glittered, curious. At last, Alex too realized. He confronted:

“…Volant. Why do you hold that book? You’ve not once read it.”

“…I was going to. Later. First we find the doll, maybe check these shelves—”

Alex pressed. “Then read it. Aloud. Just the first page.”

Volant blinked—then, after a beat, opened the volume.

“…A diary. Date, weather, summary of the day. Like the others.” He flipped pages easily, speaking while he read.

Alex exhaled hard, glancing toward Reynald. Reynald slowly nodded.

“Curious.”

“What’s curious?” Volant stammered. “Why stare?”

“When did you learn to read?”

Volant’s face froze. Awkward, uncertain smile. No hostility, but as if caught in a mask unsure which expression fit.

“…He… he can’t read?” Serna stammered, wide-eyes.

Before another word, Reynald already moved. He shoved Alex aside and seized Volant by the collar, slamming him to the floor—

—or rather, slamming down the mirror-fae that wore Volant’s shape.