Volume III The Mirror Tower
Prologue The Three Who Watch
Far beyond the northern reaches of Elyria, where summer lasted only a few brief weeks and winter ruled for most of the year, a black tower stood alone beneath a sky of endless clouds. The tower rose from a wilderness of frozen forests and ancient swamps.
It was called The Mirror Tower. To most of the world, it did not exist. No maps marked its location. No travelers spoke of it. Those who wandered too close never returned.
The tower's silhouette resembled another structure far away in the south. A lonely tower hidden within an ancient forest. A tower guarded by moonlight. A tower once called home by a forgotten god. Yet where Moon's domain was beautiful and silent, the Mirror Tower felt wrong. Like a reflection seen in dark water. A perfect image twisted into something terrible.
At the highest chamber, three figures stood before an enormous silver mirror. The mirror stretched from floor to ceiling. Its surface shimmered like liquid mercury.
Within its depths appeared a distant image. A flying palanquin drifting beneath moonlit skies. Two riders traveling beside it. A Tall warrior. A black cat. And a beautiful young god with long black hair standing beneath the stars. Moon. The mirror watched him.
The three figures watched as well. None spoke. None moved. Only their silhouettes could be seen. The first sat upon a throne carved from black stone. A crown rested upon his head. A long cloak draped from broad shoulders. Silver eyes glowed beneath darkness.
The ruler of the tower. The lord of the northern wilds. The one known only as The Shadow King. Beside him stood a tall figure carrying an enormous scythe. Silver bells hung from his dark clothing. Their faint ringing echoed through the chamber. A frozen smile seemed painted across the darkness hiding his face.
He leaned casually against the weapon as though death itself bored him. The harvester of souls. The master of cursed puppets. The one feared in forgotten legends as The Laughing Reaper.
The third figure stood silently near the mirror. Taller than either of the others. Broad-shouldered. Motionless. A long black cloak concealed his body.
His face remained hidden beneath shadow. Only pale eyes reflected in the silver glass. He spoke not a single word. The silent hunter. The wandering executioner. The being known only as The Blood Wraith.
Within the mirror, Moon raised his gaze toward the night sky. For a moment it almost seemed as though he could see them.
The chamber grew still. The Shadow King slowly rose from his throne. His cloak flowed behind him like living darkness.
"So."
His voice echoed softly through the chamber.
"He truly has returned."
The Laughing Reaper chuckled.
The sound bounced across the walls.
A laugh filled with amusement. And hunger.
"I was beginning to think he would hide forever."
The Blood Wraith remained silent. Yet his gaze never left Moon.
Not even for a moment.
The Shadow King approached the mirror. His gloved hand touched the silver surface. Ripples spread across it. The image shifted.
Moon's companions appeared.
Toivo.
Gret Ironwolf.
Kev.
The Shadow King's eyes narrowed.
"Interesting."
The Laughing Reaper tilted his head.
"The wolf cub has grown stronger."
"The old warrior joins him."
"And the cat demon remains loyal."
His grin widened.
"Good."
The Blood Wraith's hand tightened slightly.
Almost imperceptibly.
The Shadow King noticed. A faint smile touched his lips. Then he turned away from the mirror.
Outside the tower, darkness moved. Thousands of glowing eyes opened within the forests below. Shapes emerged between ancient trees.
Creatures made entirely of shadow. Wolves. Hundreds. Then thousands. Their silver eyes shone like distant stars.
The Shadow King's power flowed through them. His pack. His hunters. His messengers.
The first wave of the hunt. Far below, the wolves raised their heads toward the sky. A single howl echoed across North Elyria. Then another. And another. Until the entire wilderness sang.
The sound traveled for hundreds of miles. Through forests. Across mountains. Over frozen rivers. A warning. A declaration. A promise.
The hunt had begun.
The Laughing Reaper rested his scythe across his shoulders.
"Shall I go personally?"
The Shadow King shook his head.
"Not yet."
The Blood Wraith finally moved. His pale gaze shifted toward the north. Toward somewhere beyond the mirror. Beyond memory. Beyond centuries.
The Shadow King watched him for a moment. Then looked once more upon Moon's reflection.
For the first time in a very long while, something resembling emotion appeared in his eyes. Not hatred. Not anger. Something older.
Something far more dangerous. Recognition.
The mirror darkened. Moon's image vanished. The chamber fell into shadow.
The Shadow King spoke. Three simple words. Words that echoed throughout the tower. Throughout the wilderness. Throughout the darkness gathering across Elyria.
"Moon has left his tower."
Silence followed.
Then the Laughing Reaper laughed.
The Blood Wraith reached for his blade.
And the Shadow King smiled.
"Begin the hunt."
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