1 A Mirror of Worlds

Year 926YC, in the Year of the Church

THE WORLD BURNED. On every continent, columns of acrid smoke rose from metropolises, once towering architectural wonders, and now nothing but charred husks. All ashes and smouldering embers. Bones. A light wind tainted with the stench of smoke and terror also carried with it faint screams and bestial roars.

Threadfin Todder, an imperial viral mage of Icarthya, stood on a rocky plateau overlooking one such vista, watching funnels of thick smoke fingering a bruised sky. Lightning erupted within those hot clouds as the burning landscape created its own furious weather. The hot wind then swept towards the undead mage, carrying with it the ashes of millions of breathers.

‘A tragedy,’ Manic noted on his left with little feeling, but then Threadfin doubted the shraed knew what feelings were.

‘Yet another casualty of this interminable war,’ added a female voice on the mage’s right. Mania touched Threadfin’s elbow, the pressure feather-light but unmistakeable, as was the sense of urgency it conveyed. The sister liked to pretend at feelings, but she was as bad as her brother. ‘You wish to see more, undead one? Have you not satiated your desire for scorched flesh and blackened stone?’

Manic blew out a long dramatic sigh. ‘It doesn’t get any better, you know. One burning city is like any other. I should know, having presided over many such necessary exterminations. It does begin to bore one after a time, doesn’t it sister?’

Mania made a shushing motion at him. ‘You forget brother the sensibilities of our guest. Shush now while I manipulate him.’

Threadfin decided not to rise to the bait of either. They played their games, but usually he ignored them, although it was impossible to ignore their attire. Manic was clothed in a voluminous robe of arrogant red and gold, while his sister wore what amounted to a thin scarf of silver. It did cover up all the necessary bits, not that he looked of course. The twin shraeds were uninterested in the events of this world, apart from disastrous fashion, for the deaths of millions was of no consequence to them.

So why do they keep hounding me? he wondered. Haunting, might have been a more accurate description.

Over a dozen mirror worlds these past few months, and he had visited them all. Each time he’d chosen one where there wasn’t a mirror of himself lest he become lost to it. Apparently, it was a real risk, which of course he could never test the validity of. He’d chosen those worlds nearest the frontlines of a cosmic war, a conflict of such epic scale he was left reeling, dumbfounded, and terrified. Not that he’d ever admit any of it. He was an imperial mage, one of the viral undead and he needed to act like one. He fiddled with his robes trying to look like one too. I should at least keep up appearances. Reputation is everything after all.

‘I needed to know what I’m facing,’ he muttered, watching the distant flames. ‘I had to see it for myself, and it’s as bad as I’d feared. Worse.’

‘And thus, you are now satisfied?’ Mania asked, examining her fingernails as though she was an aristocratic beauty out for a stroll in the park amid a tiresome gaggle of suitors.

‘Yes, are you now well informed?’ demanded her brother with a hint of sarcasm as he kicked at a stone.

‘I did not ask either of you to follow me here,’ the mage snapped. ‘In fact, I recall telling you both to get lost.’ His patience was wearing thin, and his suspicions were growing. They’d popped out of nowhere about five worlds back, and had insisted on accompanying him. They claimed they had something to show him. So far, he’d seen nothing but devastation.

‘Your exact wording was more abrasive, if I recall,’ said Mania, with a frown suggesting she didn’t forget such insults nor forgive them.

‘I would rather suggest,’ growled Manic, ‘insolent, as a better description.’

‘Incognisant of our gracious and giving nature.’

‘Such disrespect and disregard.’

‘Thoughtless, oblivious of our delicate natures.’

‘Heartless,’ spat her brother and then added, ‘not to mention, brainless. Perhaps it is the rot, sister, eating away at that shrivelled organ in his skull. It is a wonder these undead ingrates can function at all.’

‘Well,’ Mania said with a slight grin, ‘that goes without saying, dearest. Maggots and worms, I wouldn’t be surprised. A common affliction of their kind.’

Threadfin ignored their babble as he often did, having no choice. There was a trick to tuning them out when he had to, although they did their best to frustrate his efforts. He’d found ignoring them also annoyed them, which was a bonus in his book.

‘My world is next,’ he whispered, not intending them to overhear. ‘Fire, smoke, and ashes. The frontlines draw closer. How do we fight against this? How can we hope to win?’

‘Oblivion,’ said Mania, having heard him anyway, ‘the end of all existence. Have we not explained all this to you? Did you not believe us? Existence is finite. Oblivion is eternal. Such absolutes cannot be got around. Your deceptions, your tricks, will not work against this enemy. Lucifer stands on the threshold of your reality. When he crosses over, your world ... nay, all worlds shall be lost.’

‘Honestly,’ said Manic, in a bored tone, ‘must you both speak in such a defeatist manner? You are ruining my morning. I do like them free of such enervating clutter.’

‘I am a realist, dear brother. The Darkness of Tartaros advances, and the Spectrum of Existence retreats. It is what it is, and what will be will be.’

‘Obviously.’

The viral mage groaned, rubbing at his forehead where a new horn poked through. Those were less frequent these days, his talent under control, but if he had to put up with more from these scobberlotchers, he might transform into a dragon and devour them both. How would that be for some enervating clutter you pompous twits? After all, he had been practicing at it. Why not put it to good use?

Of course, his anger wasn’t with them. He still hadn’t fully gotten over Aiyana’s death. He could have done with his sister’s insight right about then. She’d always had a way of seeing a path forward no matter how dark the night. A shadow had lain over his half soul since she’d left him.

Lowering his hand, Threadfin caught sight of moving shapes within the smoke below. Survivors? He’d not believed there would be any. There’d been none on those other worlds. Perhaps half a dozen individuals down there, some wounded and all attempting to flee. Something had gathered around them however, blocking their escape. Despite his viralic sight, it was too far to make out all the details.

The viral mage felt his magic awaken, the horns on his face growing with anticipation, his head enlarging as vicious jaws emerged. He felt his viralic power pulsing through his body, as his ethereal wings fanned, his form continuing to change. He could at least draw attention away from the survivors, maybe give them a chance. Something down there was hunting those people.

Mania stepped in front of him with hands on hips, a scowl on her face. ‘And what do you think you’re doing?’

He scowled back, realising he was half undead dragon, half undead mage, his transformation incomplete. ‘Get your scabby shadow-ass out of my way, shraed. Those breathers need help.’

‘I knew the undead weren’t too intelligent,’ she snapped, her form also enlarging, ‘but I did not think you complete imbeciles and you most of all. Those breathers, as you so quaintly call them, are already dead. You will join them if you go down there, and we have much better uses for you.’

‘Oh, aren’t you coming with me, then?’ he asked, shoving her aside with one wing, which proved easier than he’d hoped. Maybe I should push them about more often. His scaly body grew in length as he dwarfed his companions. Mania’s height increased as she sought to match his, a feat he hadn’t believed possible. She’d never done it before, but then she was a shraed. Who knew what they could or couldn’t do? He blinked, his viralic sight piercing the distant smoke and clutter of destruction as he tried to see around her. ‘Wait a minute. Those aren’t shraeds down there.’

Mania sniffed, sounding offended as she replied, ‘No, they most decidedly are not. Our kin were done with this world several days ago. Perhaps a few hundred people survived, hidden below ground.’

‘Vampires,’ said Threadfin, with a glance at the duo before him, his voice a deep growl. Were these Wither’s horde, or different vampires altogether? ‘You knew they were here, didn’t you? This is what you wanted me to see.’ His dragon form reverted to his human self. Mania followed suit, reducing to a reasonable height.

The vampires had already attacked their prey, anyway. It was too far and murky for details, for which he was thankful. He knew the twins were hiding something. Somehow, he would discover what it was. Threadfin Todder liked secrets less than riddles.

‘Always searching they are,’ Mania said, tapping her chin with a long fingernail.

‘Flailing in Darkness,’ added her brother, ‘gnashing those overlong canines of theirs. Quite irritating, and in such bad taste. Foul creatures.’

‘Reaching ...’ added Mania.

‘... but never finding, sister. Never.’

‘No, dearest, never. It is ours ...’ The female shraed cast a furtive glanced at Threadfin before schooling her features. ‘Yes, well, detestable creatures when all is said and done.’

‘Why are they here?’ Threadfin realised he’d never been more in the dark, but worse, these charlatans were toying with him. They used him for their own ends, whatever those were. Well, of course they do. They’re bloody shraeds, not your friends. For some odd reason, the realisation hurt. Pod is right. I’ve grown soft.

‘What are they after?’ he snapped. He jabbed a talon towards the distant vampires for emphasis, and realised his right hand was still in draconic form. He reluctantly let it return to a normal and uninteresting size. The one good thing about being a mage these days, he thought, is transforming into a dragon with teeth and claws.

‘They are hunting,’ Mania began, ‘... for something.’

‘For someone, rather,’ her brother added, ‘who will lead them to the something.’

‘Shush now, my dearest. There is no need to entangle his thoughts with nonsense. You know how easily confused such undead ones can become.’

Manic nodded with a sage look. ‘Yes, the maggots.’

‘Yes, dear. The maggots and the worms.’

In the distance, a figure came into view, emerging through the twisted wreckage of the city gates. Much larger and seeming closer as a result. It stared across the vast distance at Threadfin. It did look odd for a vampire, as it did not appear all that vampiric in nature. It had long dirty grey hair and grey skin, and was far too human in appearance now that Threadfin got a longer look at it. For all that it looked less like a vampire, its gaze was unnerving.

Uh oh, and he reached for his magic a second time—

Mania’s face blocked his view again. ‘Fool! Will you never learn? Are we doomed to be eternally ignored?’

‘Probably.’

‘What do you think you will accomplish here, mage?’

‘The killing of whomever that is down there, if you’d just get out of my way for one bloody—’

‘Yes, he is their leader,’ she hissed, ‘but you don’t want to face him. And we do not need a war with those creatures. They leave us alone and we them. Wormwood is deadly, and much worse than any of his vampiric followers.’

Who is Wormwood? ‘Wait,’ Threadfin then said, ‘isn’t Wither their leader?’ Well, if that’s him, he’s changed a lot since I saw him last, and I don’t just mean the name. He felt confused and angry. He didn’t like being out of the loop. He was certain Wither had taken control of the creatures after helping him destroy the Fetch. He’d then vanished with the horde.

Manic sneered. ‘No, no, the Red Prince was usurped and cast aside like yesterday’s meat.’

‘Forgotten.’

‘Abandoned.’

Threadfin threw up his hands. ‘Alright, I get it. You both just need a hug. Go look elsewhere. I’m busy trying to stop the end of my world. I’m assuming this Wormwood whomever is their leader now?’ He tried peering around Mania’s voluptuous form, but she kept moving to block his view. Improving it substantially, but still.

He thought about becoming a dragon and removing her, but changed his mind. She was more dangerous than she appeared, and there were two of them. He might succeed, but her warning about this Wormwood concerned him. It was rare for these two to urge caution. They were worried.

‘A prince of the vampires,’ whispered Mania, ‘and an enemy you do not wish to encounter. You know who the vampires are, don’t you?’

‘Well, of course. Nalrost experimented and attempted to reproduce his version of a fallen angel, a vanth I think it was. Instead, he got vampires. So vicious, they turned on him.’

‘Yes,’ said Mania, ‘flawed copies, but no less dangerous or treacherous. You may have encountered them once and survived. However, I advise you to avoid them at all costs. Undead though they may be, they are less your kin than you think.’

When she stepped aside, he saw no sign of the vampires or the survivors. Nothing remained but billowing smoke and burning wreckage.

Mania clasped her hands together as she announced, ‘Threadfin Todder, we require your help. Wormwood seeks the Crystal Sword.’

‘I knew you two had an agenda.’

‘Call it a favour.’

‘Okay, why should I care about some sword?’

‘It is no ordinary weapon for one thing,’ answered Mania, ‘and for all intents and purposes, it also does not exist.’

‘Um, could you say that again?’

‘We’d rather keep it that way.’

‘You know, I find it intriguing that this is the most sense you’ve ever made.’

She didn’t however, rise to his bait. ‘It is the first soul shard, and in the wrong hands can be used to conquer worlds. It is your desire to stop the Darkness, to save your world is it not? Well then, the vampires must not have it. Its maker hid it millennia ago, changing its location several times, but they will not quit searching until they possess it. Will you help us stop Wormwood?’

Threadfin placed his head in his hands. ‘You don’t need me for this. All this power at my fingertips. All this responsibility, and I am helpless.’

‘Welcome to our existence,’ said Mania.

‘To our torment,’ wailed Manic.

‘We are misunderstood.’

‘Neglected.’

‘Forgotten.’

‘Forlorn.’

Threadfin rose, holding out both hands to shut them up. ‘Fine, fine. You’ve both proven yourselves allies, and you have my gratitude and all that rubbish. I’ll help, if it will shut you both up.’

‘What is gratitude to us?’ demanded Mania.

‘What can we do with it?’ asked Manic.

‘Worthless.’

‘Pathetic.’

‘An insult.’

‘Oh, most assuredly, sister. One of epic proportions.’ The male shraed gave the undead mage a furious glare.

Threadfin felt like screaming in frustration, but instead, for no reason at all, burst out laughing. Perhaps it would be the last laughter this world would know. Maybe tears weren’t enough, not that his dried-up shrivelled eyes could offer those.

‘I do not see the need for levity,’ muttered Mania with a pout. ‘Now, we should go before—’

The vampires attacked with no sound or warning. A clot of several hundred descended on the trio. Long limbs and distorted bodies, bones forming and reforming, constantly in motion. They opened their jaws to reveal long canines, their all-too-human faces contorted into snarls, and Threadfin’s laughter died.