The Magic Mirror

To The Birds

Fritz's heart hammered as the tall, sinister old man strode towards him. He could feel the power in every step Graves' took. It pierced into the rock, and branched into every inch of the lair. It was only just dawning on him that this entire structure stood only because Graves' willed it to.

"I wonder," Graves' voice was biting and coy as he looked Fritz up and down. "..If you knew it was coming to this when you set out to save Fier the supposed changeling."

Fritz stumbled back as a sharp crack lifted the rock from under him. Hot, black smoke pushed through the jagged opening and seared at his eyes and lungs. There was another crack and another as Graves continued to walk, calmly and steadily towards him. More holes, more smoke, and with each one Fritz could only step back. Beyond Graves he could still see the pale, gossamer form of Lenore crouched on the ground, watching him with a weak light of hope in her eyes.

"Is this your plan?" Graves scoffed. He didn't seem all too impressed. "Why don't you fight?"

Fritz flexed his fingers, but just as he felt the power begin to condense between them there was another flash of red light and a force threw him onto his back. Suddenly Graves had him around the neck, his fingers wrapped around tight enough to make breathing a new and difficult chore.

"WHERE'S THE STONE?" Graves voice had gained new urgency. "I need that stone! Give me it! Tell me where it is or you'll die!"

Fritz had meant to use the dagger on Lenore, but as he tried to writhe out of Graves' hard grip he knew the plan had changed. He plunged the small blade, almost automatically, into Graves' side. The sorcerer yelled and the lair trembled. A few chunks of rocks dislodged from the ceiling and one missed Fritz's head by a hair's width. Graves stumbled off of him and ripped the blade out of him, it was slick with red and his robes began to stain. The sorcerer looked completely shocked.

"Who are you?" he demanded. This time he sincerely seemed to care.

Fritz gasped in a breath as he dragged himself onto his feet once more. He could only watch stupidly as Graves cast the bloody dagger aside, it landed with a metallic clink at the feet of Naros. The bird's head tilted curiously at it.

"Who are you?" Graves repeated with a wretched hiss. His eyes widened and he raised a hand. Fritz's own mind tumbled over itself as he tried to think of something he could do to ward off what was sure to be another attack. The power that emanated from Grave's fingers this time, however, was not so much an attack as an investigation. It was invisible but it's touch was like ice on Fritz's skin. Fritz stared down at his arm, bewildered, as black markings and symbols rose onto the skin.

"...Ink," Graves murmured."...and everybody thought Parsimum was so above this... so you are the one.."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Fritz said, quietly.

"Don't you?" Graves' eyes had gotten a little too wide and his smile menacing. "You look just like Parsimum when he was a boy- its obvious to me now!"

He laughed and it was followed by the rattle of his birds laughing as well.

"And you," Graves looked off in the direction of the guillotine where the others stood. Fritz followed the gaze. He recognized Niarosa and Marcos- yes, even Audrin was here. Though she looked barely conscious of it. The other figure on the small island was a young man, covered in dirt, with torn clothes. Fritz did not know this one, but he suspected this was Fier. Graves was talking most pointedly to this man. "All this time you were a decoy- an expendable distraction! You know... by the look on your face I don't think you knew that."

Fritz felt a sizzle in his hands and looked down to see a new kind of magic forming through his palm. A sphere of electrical sparks flared into life. He lifted it and hurled it at Graves. The sorcerer looked just in time to see it coming, and even managed to cast some of it off. But it wasn't enough. The sphere hit the sorcerer in the shoulder and ripped through the fabric of his robes to leave a notable gash. Graves clutched at his shoulder and he seemed to boil in rage. This time Fritz knew would not be a warning blow. Graves was no longer merely amused by him.