Valecia rose slowly as Elyana stood, the soft rustle of her gown the only sound that dared to move in the still air. The light within the tent dimmed and steadied, as though the mirror itself were watching the young woman go. When Elyana turned back with the pendant in hand, Valecia’s expression softened into something rarely seen, surprise touched by quiet grace.
She accepted the offering with both hands, cradling it as though it were a relic of great power. Within the glass of the pendant, the preserved red camellia seemed to pulse once, faintly, responding to the energy that lingered between them.
“The Middlemist’s Red,” she murmured, her voice threaded with reverence. “A bloom said to appear only where devotion endures beyond worlds. You honor me, Elyana Amari. This gift carries its own enchantment now, the gratitude of a heart made lighter.”
She closed her fingers gently around the pendant, and a subtle shimmer passed from her touch to the air itself. “May it return to you threefold,” she said. “Whenever you walk among the trees and feel the breeze stir your hair, know that she walks beside you. The love between you has no end.”
For a moment, Valecia’s gaze drifted toward the mirror once more. Its surface had cleared entirely now, the faint reflection of two figures side by side, mother and daughter, both radiant. When she turned back, her eyes gleamed with quiet understanding.
“Go where your heart leads you,” she said softly. “The woods will listen tonight. Their silence is not emptiness, but welcome.”
As Elyana stepped into the cool night, the mirror dimmed to its resting glow. Valecia lifted the pendant once in silent blessing, then set it beside the crystal dish of sweets, where it caught the flicker of every candle flame like a living heartbeat.
The sorceress stood a long while after the fae’s departure, her eyes distant but tender. Her lingering smile seemed to promise, to any who entered next, that some truths were not meant to be feared at all.
When the air settled again, the mirror shimmered faintly, waiting. The scent of myrrh and sugared violets returned to the air, and the quiet hush of possibility filled the tent once more. Valecia turned her gaze toward the entrance, her calm voice carrying just enough to reach whoever might step inside next.
“Welcome, traveler. The mirror is listening.”
She accepted the offering with both hands, cradling it as though it were a relic of great power. Within the glass of the pendant, the preserved red camellia seemed to pulse once, faintly, responding to the energy that lingered between them.
“The Middlemist’s Red,” she murmured, her voice threaded with reverence. “A bloom said to appear only where devotion endures beyond worlds. You honor me, Elyana Amari. This gift carries its own enchantment now, the gratitude of a heart made lighter.”
She closed her fingers gently around the pendant, and a subtle shimmer passed from her touch to the air itself. “May it return to you threefold,” she said. “Whenever you walk among the trees and feel the breeze stir your hair, know that she walks beside you. The love between you has no end.”
For a moment, Valecia’s gaze drifted toward the mirror once more. Its surface had cleared entirely now, the faint reflection of two figures side by side, mother and daughter, both radiant. When she turned back, her eyes gleamed with quiet understanding.
“Go where your heart leads you,” she said softly. “The woods will listen tonight. Their silence is not emptiness, but welcome.”
As Elyana stepped into the cool night, the mirror dimmed to its resting glow. Valecia lifted the pendant once in silent blessing, then set it beside the crystal dish of sweets, where it caught the flicker of every candle flame like a living heartbeat.
The sorceress stood a long while after the fae’s departure, her eyes distant but tender. Her lingering smile seemed to promise, to any who entered next, that some truths were not meant to be feared at all.
When the air settled again, the mirror shimmered faintly, waiting. The scent of myrrh and sugared violets returned to the air, and the quiet hush of possibility filled the tent once more. Valecia turned her gaze toward the entrance, her calm voice carrying just enough to reach whoever might step inside next.
“Welcome, traveler. The mirror is listening.”
He approached the tent cautiously with a warriors step, firm yet agile, and a believer's respect. He was no stranger to magic. Magic had once been something he relied on greatly for decision making and guidance. It wasn't the magic he was leering of, it was the potential scan. True weavers of magic were few and far between these days. He had learned not to trust in the ones who claim loudly to be seers, as they were normally frauds. However, as his feet carried him towards this tent he sensed that old world feeling of magic - that tingle in the air that raised goosebumps and the small hairs on his body.
He inhaled deeply and then extended his arm to shift the curtain out of the way so he could enter. Though, he found his way impeded by a giant mirror. "Hello?" he said curiously as he tried to see around the glass, but something caught his eye causing to gaze deeply into his own reflection.
In his opinion, he wasn't much to look at. Short brunette hair. Angular cheek bones that led to an almost pointy chin. A Cupid's bow mouth that was held in a position that read 'displeased' even when he wanted to be smiling. Smiling was currently absent from his life and had been for a while now. He looked upon himself, his blue eyes turning nearly gold in the flicking light of the candles.
He felt a breeze start from inside the tent and brush across his face as if it meant to remove a mask he didn't realize was there. When he looked back into the mirror the eyes of the dragon looked back at him - red and burning like amber in a white hot fire. Then, after a few blinks, the dragon was gone and he stared into darkness. "Does darkness mean I have no soul?" He asked the mirror, for he knew not who else to ask.
But as he stared, from far off in the distance inside the mirror, a figure began to appear. A silhouette cloaked in shadow walking down a long, dimly light corridor was coming closer.
He inhaled deeply and then extended his arm to shift the curtain out of the way so he could enter. Though, he found his way impeded by a giant mirror. "Hello?" he said curiously as he tried to see around the glass, but something caught his eye causing to gaze deeply into his own reflection.
In his opinion, he wasn't much to look at. Short brunette hair. Angular cheek bones that led to an almost pointy chin. A Cupid's bow mouth that was held in a position that read 'displeased' even when he wanted to be smiling. Smiling was currently absent from his life and had been for a while now. He looked upon himself, his blue eyes turning nearly gold in the flicking light of the candles.
He felt a breeze start from inside the tent and brush across his face as if it meant to remove a mask he didn't realize was there. When he looked back into the mirror the eyes of the dragon looked back at him - red and burning like amber in a white hot fire. Then, after a few blinks, the dragon was gone and he stared into darkness. "Does darkness mean I have no soul?" He asked the mirror, for he knew not who else to ask.
But as he stared, from far off in the distance inside the mirror, a figure began to appear. A silhouette cloaked in shadow walking down a long, dimly light corridor was coming closer.
The mirror reacted before Valecia did. Its surface shuddered once, light blooming along the frame as if it had recognized the presence that entered. The air within the tent thickened with an old energy, something that spoke not of tricks or parlor shows, but of memory, ancient, slow, and knowing.
Valecia rose from her seat. Her expression softened, though her gaze remained sharp. The dragon’s reflection still lingered faintly upon the glass, its heat a whisper against the candle flame.
“Darkness does not mean absence,” she said quietly. “It is where power sleeps until it is needed. Even the stars are born from it. A soul such as yours cannot be lost. Only contained.”
She stepped closer, the mirrored light catching the shimmer of her silver rings. Within the reflection, the shadowed corridor shifted. The cloaked figure that had appeared began to take shape, the mirror’s way of remembering his truest form.
“The dragon within you does not forget,” Valecia murmured. “It watches as you weigh your own worth in mortal eyes, and it wonders when you will remember that fire was never meant to please. It was meant to transform.”
For a long moment, she studied him through the reflection, not the man before her but the being behind him. Her tone softened to something nearer to awe. “You carry a crown that was forged in flame and discipline. The darkness is not your punishment, Fitzpatrick Darsey Allhallows. It is your inheritance.”
The candles flickered low, their flames bowing toward the mirror. Valecia’s gaze returned to his, steady and unafraid.
“If you wish to see what sleeps beyond the corridor, you need only ask,” she said, her voice a gentle challenge. “But know this, the mirror will answer in truth, not in flattery. It shows only what already belongs to you.”
She motioned toward the crystal dish beside the glass, where the sweets shimmered like captured stars. “Take one, Prince of Dragons. Each carries a different spell. Choose carefully. One restores memory, another grants clarity, and a third kindles flame.”
As she spoke, the reflection behind the glass began to shift again, the faint silhouette in the distance lifting its head. Two sparks of light appeared where eyes might be, patient, waiting, familiar.
Valecia’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “He remembers you.”
Valecia rose from her seat. Her expression softened, though her gaze remained sharp. The dragon’s reflection still lingered faintly upon the glass, its heat a whisper against the candle flame.
“Darkness does not mean absence,” she said quietly. “It is where power sleeps until it is needed. Even the stars are born from it. A soul such as yours cannot be lost. Only contained.”
She stepped closer, the mirrored light catching the shimmer of her silver rings. Within the reflection, the shadowed corridor shifted. The cloaked figure that had appeared began to take shape, the mirror’s way of remembering his truest form.
“The dragon within you does not forget,” Valecia murmured. “It watches as you weigh your own worth in mortal eyes, and it wonders when you will remember that fire was never meant to please. It was meant to transform.”
For a long moment, she studied him through the reflection, not the man before her but the being behind him. Her tone softened to something nearer to awe. “You carry a crown that was forged in flame and discipline. The darkness is not your punishment, Fitzpatrick Darsey Allhallows. It is your inheritance.”
The candles flickered low, their flames bowing toward the mirror. Valecia’s gaze returned to his, steady and unafraid.
“If you wish to see what sleeps beyond the corridor, you need only ask,” she said, her voice a gentle challenge. “But know this, the mirror will answer in truth, not in flattery. It shows only what already belongs to you.”
She motioned toward the crystal dish beside the glass, where the sweets shimmered like captured stars. “Take one, Prince of Dragons. Each carries a different spell. Choose carefully. One restores memory, another grants clarity, and a third kindles flame.”
As she spoke, the reflection behind the glass began to shift again, the faint silhouette in the distance lifting its head. Two sparks of light appeared where eyes might be, patient, waiting, familiar.
Valecia’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “He remembers you.”
The voice, soft and feminine, came from beyond the mirror. He stepped up one side of the mirror, his figure still reflected in the frame, as she came around to engage him. She spoke, he listened. Her words touched truths he had already come to terms with. "Only contained," he repeated in a near whisper. "You seem to know my status and my origin. So, I asked you, Madam, since I am a prince of the stars, was I made from one?" He reached out and brushed the fingertips of one of his hands over the guilded frame. "It's one of the questions I have never found an answer to. Am I part star?"
He looked down at the candy bowl and let the hand that traced the intricate carvings of the mirror drop down and pluck an alluring blue candy. He took the ends of the wrapper between the thumb and forefinger of each hand and twirled it a little. "I want to see what's beyond the darkness. I want to see what sleeps. But, before I do, I want to know why it sleeps." He turned to face the mirror full on. "As you said, I, and my crown, were forged in discipline, fire, and failure. I am not a fool for I learn from my short comings." He looked from the candy in his fingers back into the mirror. "My victories as well, but my failures more. By failing, I have learned what kind of man I truly am."
He glanced over to Valecia, "Do you think what lies beyond the nothingness is the light of a star or the death of one?" Fitzpatrick had been soul searching the last few months, contemplating whether his end was near or if he was about to enter into a period of rebirth and start a whole new chapter on what had been an extremely long life already.
He looked down at the candy bowl and let the hand that traced the intricate carvings of the mirror drop down and pluck an alluring blue candy. He took the ends of the wrapper between the thumb and forefinger of each hand and twirled it a little. "I want to see what's beyond the darkness. I want to see what sleeps. But, before I do, I want to know why it sleeps." He turned to face the mirror full on. "As you said, I, and my crown, were forged in discipline, fire, and failure. I am not a fool for I learn from my short comings." He looked from the candy in his fingers back into the mirror. "My victories as well, but my failures more. By failing, I have learned what kind of man I truly am."
He glanced over to Valecia, "Do you think what lies beyond the nothingness is the light of a star or the death of one?" Fitzpatrick had been soul searching the last few months, contemplating whether his end was near or if he was about to enter into a period of rebirth and start a whole new chapter on what had been an extremely long life already.
Valecia’s eyes gleamed faintly when he repeated her words. The mirror’s light deepened, shifting from silver to a quiet blue that mirrored the candy between his fingers. She stepped closer. “A prince of the stars,” she echoed softly. “Then yes, Fitzpatrick Darsey Allhallows, you are made of one. Not the kind that burns alone in the heavens, but the kind that fell willingly to learn what it meant to rise again. Starfire and mortal blood rarely mingle without purpose. You were not born only to reign. You were born to remember.”
Her gaze drifted toward the mirror. The darkness within it began to ripple like the steady thrum of something vast and sleeping. As the reflection shifted, faint glimmers appeared within the void, sparks like the first stars forming after creation.
“You ask why it sleeps,” Valecia said, her voice softening. “Even flame must rest after it has burned too long. You have spent lifetimes carrying the discipline of kings and the restraint of gods. It is not death that waits beyond the darkness, but restoration. The light you seek does not need to be found, only allowed to wake.”
The mirror flared and a slow bloom of color rolled outward like nebulae unfurling. Within its depths, shadow and fire began to take form. The vague outline of a dragon’s eye stared back, vast and unblinking, filled with molten gold. Valecia’s expression remained serene.
“Stars do not truly die,” she continued. “They collapse, and from that surrender, they become something greater. So too do dragons, and men who remember they were once both.”
She turned her head slightly, the candlelight catching the faint shimmer of enchantment along her silver ring. “You have never feared failure,” she said quietly. “That is what makes you dangerous and divine. You are not standing at an end, my lord, but before the threshold of your renewal.”
The soft buzz of magic threaded through the air. The candy in his hand glowed faintly, its blue deepening to violet.
“When you eat it, the mirror will open,” she said, her tone both promise and warning. “It will show you what sleeps beyond the nothingness, and what waits for you to wake beside it. But remember this, even starlight must choose where to fall.”
The mirror’s reflection shimmered once more, twin points of light gazing back at him, ancient and knowing. Valecia stood beside him, her eyes reflecting the same fire, her voice a whisper meant for dragons and gods alike.
“You are not at your end, Fitzpatrick. You are the spark before the dawn.”
Her gaze drifted toward the mirror. The darkness within it began to ripple like the steady thrum of something vast and sleeping. As the reflection shifted, faint glimmers appeared within the void, sparks like the first stars forming after creation.
“You ask why it sleeps,” Valecia said, her voice softening. “Even flame must rest after it has burned too long. You have spent lifetimes carrying the discipline of kings and the restraint of gods. It is not death that waits beyond the darkness, but restoration. The light you seek does not need to be found, only allowed to wake.”
The mirror flared and a slow bloom of color rolled outward like nebulae unfurling. Within its depths, shadow and fire began to take form. The vague outline of a dragon’s eye stared back, vast and unblinking, filled with molten gold. Valecia’s expression remained serene.
“Stars do not truly die,” she continued. “They collapse, and from that surrender, they become something greater. So too do dragons, and men who remember they were once both.”
She turned her head slightly, the candlelight catching the faint shimmer of enchantment along her silver ring. “You have never feared failure,” she said quietly. “That is what makes you dangerous and divine. You are not standing at an end, my lord, but before the threshold of your renewal.”
The soft buzz of magic threaded through the air. The candy in his hand glowed faintly, its blue deepening to violet.
“When you eat it, the mirror will open,” she said, her tone both promise and warning. “It will show you what sleeps beyond the nothingness, and what waits for you to wake beside it. But remember this, even starlight must choose where to fall.”
The mirror’s reflection shimmered once more, twin points of light gazing back at him, ancient and knowing. Valecia stood beside him, her eyes reflecting the same fire, her voice a whisper meant for dragons and gods alike.
“You are not at your end, Fitzpatrick. You are the spark before the dawn.”
He was enchanted as he stood in the tent that seemed to hold wonders that surpassed the trite music of the carnival carousel. The scent of food vendors was lost amongst incense and candle smoke. The curtain of velvet blocked out more than the light and passing figures that might interrupt the image in the mirror, it blocked out time itself. Fitzpatrick was enchanted not just by the mirror but by the seer at his side. "Starfire and mortal blood?" he questioned almost playfully as he rolled the candy in his fingers. "But Starfire didn't mix with mortal blood. It mixed with an ancient and noble bloodline of black dragons. Already ordained royalty by human kings and then anointed by a star." The words might read like bragging but his tone, soft and gentle told a story with no arrogance clinging to the words. Arrogance of status was reserved for those who merely wore a crown - he had become the crown and needed no boasting to prove it.
Her words brought on the hint of a smile, not a true smile, only the ghost of one. "Flame and starlight gets to slumber but not I, it seems." He made a noise that sounded like a small laugh but it didn't touch his eyes. "Why does starlight get to rest while I burn with fire. Then, when the starlight is ready to rise again, I am called to awaken it once more to let it shine on in me? I have no delusions of immortality, but starlight shines for centuries before it collapses again. Does that mean...? He swallowed hard and looked down at the candy that had gone from blue to a radiant violet.
He looked down and began to remove the wrapper from the candy. He held the glowing thing like something precious - much like a priest would hold a host as he ordained it to be the body of Christ. "To the threshold of my renewal," he cheers to her as he popped the candy in his mouth. He let his hands fall to his sides, but reached for her hand. "I want you to see with me." There was no fear in his voice for what he was about to face, only wonder and the desire to share the experience.
He looked into the mirror once again and saw the massive eye of the dragon - his dragon - flame shot sclera, with irises of coal on the verge of burning into flame. Within the black of the iris he beheld the cloaked figure he had previously seen walking at a distance. They were close now, an arms length away. The figure lowered their hood and Fitzpatrick saw himself as the hood fell back.A perfect doppelganger of the Grand Duke stared out of the dragon's eye and extended his hand out as if he was going to touch his side of the mirror. Fitzpatrick, not daring to look away from the mirror, reached his own hand out to touch his side of the mirror. The two dimensions touched much like God's finger touched Adam's at the birth of creation - so elegantly depicted on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.
When the fingers touched creation began. The dragon's eye seemed to be struck by a golden lightning, causing veins of gold to thread through the flame. Not creating rose gold, but becoming molten gold coursing within the flame. The image wasn't the only thing to change, Fitzpatrick stared with his blue eyes into the eyes of himself with eyes of the purest starlight. It was then he felt his eyes begin to water. The sensation of blinking or to reach up to wipe his eyes was nearly impossible to resist, but resist he did. The longer their fingers stayed touching, the stronger the current between them grew. The tip of his finger even illuminating so the blood vessels and bone could be seen as Fitzpatrick absorbed what his mirror image was offering him.
When the exchange had finished, Fitzpatrick felt the current lessen until it was no more and his finger dropped from the mirror. The vision in the mirror was gone, only his reflection remained, but he was different. He looked closer at his reflection. His eyes were still blue but there were now flecks of silver in the iris. He looked down at his wrists where the veins were the closest to the surface of the skin - in his veins, in the blood, he now noticed a faint illumination that existed inside of him. "What was in that candy I ate?" There was no blame in his tone, but there was a question and it had nothing to do with candy.
Her words brought on the hint of a smile, not a true smile, only the ghost of one. "Flame and starlight gets to slumber but not I, it seems." He made a noise that sounded like a small laugh but it didn't touch his eyes. "Why does starlight get to rest while I burn with fire. Then, when the starlight is ready to rise again, I am called to awaken it once more to let it shine on in me? I have no delusions of immortality, but starlight shines for centuries before it collapses again. Does that mean...? He swallowed hard and looked down at the candy that had gone from blue to a radiant violet.
He looked down and began to remove the wrapper from the candy. He held the glowing thing like something precious - much like a priest would hold a host as he ordained it to be the body of Christ. "To the threshold of my renewal," he cheers to her as he popped the candy in his mouth. He let his hands fall to his sides, but reached for her hand. "I want you to see with me." There was no fear in his voice for what he was about to face, only wonder and the desire to share the experience.
He looked into the mirror once again and saw the massive eye of the dragon - his dragon - flame shot sclera, with irises of coal on the verge of burning into flame. Within the black of the iris he beheld the cloaked figure he had previously seen walking at a distance. They were close now, an arms length away. The figure lowered their hood and Fitzpatrick saw himself as the hood fell back.A perfect doppelganger of the Grand Duke stared out of the dragon's eye and extended his hand out as if he was going to touch his side of the mirror. Fitzpatrick, not daring to look away from the mirror, reached his own hand out to touch his side of the mirror. The two dimensions touched much like God's finger touched Adam's at the birth of creation - so elegantly depicted on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.
When the fingers touched creation began. The dragon's eye seemed to be struck by a golden lightning, causing veins of gold to thread through the flame. Not creating rose gold, but becoming molten gold coursing within the flame. The image wasn't the only thing to change, Fitzpatrick stared with his blue eyes into the eyes of himself with eyes of the purest starlight. It was then he felt his eyes begin to water. The sensation of blinking or to reach up to wipe his eyes was nearly impossible to resist, but resist he did. The longer their fingers stayed touching, the stronger the current between them grew. The tip of his finger even illuminating so the blood vessels and bone could be seen as Fitzpatrick absorbed what his mirror image was offering him.
When the exchange had finished, Fitzpatrick felt the current lessen until it was no more and his finger dropped from the mirror. The vision in the mirror was gone, only his reflection remained, but he was different. He looked closer at his reflection. His eyes were still blue but there were now flecks of silver in the iris. He looked down at his wrists where the veins were the closest to the surface of the skin - in his veins, in the blood, he now noticed a faint illumination that existed inside of him. "What was in that candy I ate?" There was no blame in his tone, but there was a question and it had nothing to do with candy.
The light from the mirror had grown so bright that for a moment even the candles bent their flames away from it. Valecia did not look away. Her gaze held steady on the reflection before them, her hand still within his grasp, her pulse calm against his palm. The tent itself seemed to breathe, its velvet walls trembling as if the fabric of reality had momentarily remembered something sacred.
When the light finally dimmed and his hand fell away from the mirror, she exhaled softly. The air shimmered faintly around them. She looked upon him then, truly looked, as though her eyes could see beyond flesh and bone.
“It was never candy,” she said quietly, a faint smile gracing her lips. “It was starlight condensed into sweetness, a vessel through which the mirror could deliver what it could not speak. You did not eat magic, Fitzpatrick. You became its memory again.”
She lifted her free hand and brushed her fingertips just above his wrist where the faint illumination pulsed beneath his skin. “The silver in your eyes, the light in your veins, that is the echo of the covenant between the flame and the void. The proof that both live within you and are no longer divided.”
Her tone deepened. “You asked why you burn while starlight rests. The answer is simple. You are not the flame’s servant, nor the star’s echo. You are their meeting point. When they collapse, they fall into you. You carry their renewal.”
For a long moment, the tent remained utterly still, the mirror quiet but no longer dormant. Faint threads of gold continued to run through its surface like veins in marble, alive but resting. Valecia’s gaze lingered on it, then returned to him.
“This was never about power,” she said softly. “It was remembrance. The mirror has shown you not what you are becoming, but what you always were. The first flame that refused to die, and the last light that will ever fade.”
She lowered her hand, though her presence still held that quiet weight of the divine. “You have crossed the threshold, Fitzpatrick Darsey Allhallows. Not into death, nor into rebirth, but into wholeness. From now on, the fire and the star will answer you as one.”
The faintest spark of amusement ghosted across her features. “Though I admit,” she added gently, “the taste may linger. Starlight has always favored those who can handle its heat.”
Her words settled into the stillness, the faint scent of myrrh and spice wrapping the air like silk. Behind them, the mirror shimmered once, not in invitation this time, but in acknowledgment.
Valecia’s gaze softened as she met his eyes again. “You shine differently now,” she said. “Not brighter, but truer. Tell me, Prince of Dragons, does it feel like peace?”
When the light finally dimmed and his hand fell away from the mirror, she exhaled softly. The air shimmered faintly around them. She looked upon him then, truly looked, as though her eyes could see beyond flesh and bone.
“It was never candy,” she said quietly, a faint smile gracing her lips. “It was starlight condensed into sweetness, a vessel through which the mirror could deliver what it could not speak. You did not eat magic, Fitzpatrick. You became its memory again.”
She lifted her free hand and brushed her fingertips just above his wrist where the faint illumination pulsed beneath his skin. “The silver in your eyes, the light in your veins, that is the echo of the covenant between the flame and the void. The proof that both live within you and are no longer divided.”
Her tone deepened. “You asked why you burn while starlight rests. The answer is simple. You are not the flame’s servant, nor the star’s echo. You are their meeting point. When they collapse, they fall into you. You carry their renewal.”
For a long moment, the tent remained utterly still, the mirror quiet but no longer dormant. Faint threads of gold continued to run through its surface like veins in marble, alive but resting. Valecia’s gaze lingered on it, then returned to him.
“This was never about power,” she said softly. “It was remembrance. The mirror has shown you not what you are becoming, but what you always were. The first flame that refused to die, and the last light that will ever fade.”
She lowered her hand, though her presence still held that quiet weight of the divine. “You have crossed the threshold, Fitzpatrick Darsey Allhallows. Not into death, nor into rebirth, but into wholeness. From now on, the fire and the star will answer you as one.”
The faintest spark of amusement ghosted across her features. “Though I admit,” she added gently, “the taste may linger. Starlight has always favored those who can handle its heat.”
Her words settled into the stillness, the faint scent of myrrh and spice wrapping the air like silk. Behind them, the mirror shimmered once, not in invitation this time, but in acknowledgment.
Valecia’s gaze softened as she met his eyes again. “You shine differently now,” she said. “Not brighter, but truer. Tell me, Prince of Dragons, does it feel like peace?”
He blinked at his own image, examining the changes in himself as she shared her knowledge with him. He listened, not interrupting, for he had learned a long time ago that quieting one’s own will to speak and truly listen is when authentic learning occurs. Instead of listening to a sentence or two and then thinking of something clever to add or intervene with, he resolved himself to listen until it was his time to speak. This was the problem with most people in positions of power; they forget that the people around them have just as many ideas and information as they have. He listened and absorbed what she had to share with him. It wasn’t until she asked him a question that he looked away from the mirror and looked into her eyes.
“Peace?” he looked down at his wrist and saw the faint shimmer of light running under his skin through the pathways of his veins and arteries. “I can’t claim peace yet; there are still too many elements of my life that are up in the air.” He allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch up into a very small smile. “I like that you said I shine differently now. It gives me hope.” He looked away from his hands and back to Valecia. “Hope is powerful and I want to use that power for whatever transformation I am about to initiate.”
He turned away from the mirror and faced Valecia full on. “I’m sure it was your magic and mysticism that allowed you to pluck my name from… Well, where names hide until we are ready to reveal them. And, though you got my name correct, I still wished to introduce myself to you.” He was already holding one of her hands and her offered the other to her now. “Please, since you seem to know more about me than me, I would like to invite you to call me Darsey.” As he looked at her, his eyes shimmered with a light that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t bright or all that illuminous. In fact, if you didn’t know to look for it, it could easily be missed.
He glanced out of the tent, through the small slit in the velvet curtains. “Halloween is coming to a close soon. Does the mystical fortune teller enjoy coffee?” He wasn’t being cheeky or even flirty. It was a genuine question as he wasn’t exactly ready for the conversation to end, though he knew he needed to free up the tent for the next people wanting to enter to take to their turn.
“Peace?” he looked down at his wrist and saw the faint shimmer of light running under his skin through the pathways of his veins and arteries. “I can’t claim peace yet; there are still too many elements of my life that are up in the air.” He allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch up into a very small smile. “I like that you said I shine differently now. It gives me hope.” He looked away from his hands and back to Valecia. “Hope is powerful and I want to use that power for whatever transformation I am about to initiate.”
He turned away from the mirror and faced Valecia full on. “I’m sure it was your magic and mysticism that allowed you to pluck my name from… Well, where names hide until we are ready to reveal them. And, though you got my name correct, I still wished to introduce myself to you.” He was already holding one of her hands and her offered the other to her now. “Please, since you seem to know more about me than me, I would like to invite you to call me Darsey.” As he looked at her, his eyes shimmered with a light that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t bright or all that illuminous. In fact, if you didn’t know to look for it, it could easily be missed.
He glanced out of the tent, through the small slit in the velvet curtains. “Halloween is coming to a close soon. Does the mystical fortune teller enjoy coffee?” He wasn’t being cheeky or even flirty. It was a genuine question as he wasn’t exactly ready for the conversation to end, though he knew he needed to free up the tent for the next people wanting to enter to take to their turn.
For a long while, Valecia simply looked at him. Not the way a mystic examines a vision, but the way a woman studies something rare and newly understood. The mirror’s light softened around them, shifting to the gentler hue of twilight, as if recognizing the close of one story and the beginning of another.
When he spoke of peace, she inclined her head slightly, listening as he had listened to her. The faintest smile touched her mouth, a real one this time, and the candlelight caught in her eyes like fragments of amethyst glass.
“Peace rarely arrives all at once,” she said softly. “It comes like morning, in slow degrees of light. You do not have to claim it yet, Darsey. You only have to make room for it.”
Her gaze fell briefly to his wrist where the light still pulsed faintly under his skin, then back to his face. “Hope,” she repeated quietly, tasting the word as if testing its texture. “It is a powerful spell, yes, and the only one that never requires permission to work. I am glad it has chosen you again.”
When he turned to face her fully, her composure softened into something almost tender. She allowed him to take her other hand, the touch both grounding and electric. “Darsey,” she repeated, the name leaving her lips like a small invocation. “Then I will call you that, and you may call me Valecia. Titles have their uses, but names are far more honest.”
The mirror stilled completely now, its work finished. The reflection of the dragon’s eye faded to a tranquil glow before dissolving into shadow once more.
He spoke of coffee, and this time, the curve of her smile deepened, a quiet, knowing thing that warmed the space between them.
“The mystical fortune teller,” she said, with a faint note of amusement, “does indeed enjoy coffee. Though she takes it strong, with a little sweetness, much like the company she keeps.”
She released one of his hands, not to dismiss him, but to gesture toward the opening of the tent where the night waited. “Perhaps when the last candle burns low,” she added gently. “Even seers need warmth when the stars grow quiet.”
For a breath, her gaze lingered on him. “Go, Darsey. The night is not finished with you yet. And when you taste your next cup of coffee, if it is too strong, remember, that is how we remind ourselves we are still awake.”
The faintest flicker of violet shimmered in the mirror behind her as she stepped aside, giving him the space to leave without breaking the thread between them. The tent remained hushed and glowing, as if holding the echo of something newly born, a promise whispered quietly.
When he spoke of peace, she inclined her head slightly, listening as he had listened to her. The faintest smile touched her mouth, a real one this time, and the candlelight caught in her eyes like fragments of amethyst glass.
“Peace rarely arrives all at once,” she said softly. “It comes like morning, in slow degrees of light. You do not have to claim it yet, Darsey. You only have to make room for it.”
Her gaze fell briefly to his wrist where the light still pulsed faintly under his skin, then back to his face. “Hope,” she repeated quietly, tasting the word as if testing its texture. “It is a powerful spell, yes, and the only one that never requires permission to work. I am glad it has chosen you again.”
When he turned to face her fully, her composure softened into something almost tender. She allowed him to take her other hand, the touch both grounding and electric. “Darsey,” she repeated, the name leaving her lips like a small invocation. “Then I will call you that, and you may call me Valecia. Titles have their uses, but names are far more honest.”
The mirror stilled completely now, its work finished. The reflection of the dragon’s eye faded to a tranquil glow before dissolving into shadow once more.
He spoke of coffee, and this time, the curve of her smile deepened, a quiet, knowing thing that warmed the space between them.
“The mystical fortune teller,” she said, with a faint note of amusement, “does indeed enjoy coffee. Though she takes it strong, with a little sweetness, much like the company she keeps.”
She released one of his hands, not to dismiss him, but to gesture toward the opening of the tent where the night waited. “Perhaps when the last candle burns low,” she added gently. “Even seers need warmth when the stars grow quiet.”
For a breath, her gaze lingered on him. “Go, Darsey. The night is not finished with you yet. And when you taste your next cup of coffee, if it is too strong, remember, that is how we remind ourselves we are still awake.”
The faintest flicker of violet shimmered in the mirror behind her as she stepped aside, giving him the space to leave without breaking the thread between them. The tent remained hushed and glowing, as if holding the echo of something newly born, a promise whispered quietly.
He offered Valecia a coy smile and nod of his head. “Perhaps when the last candle flame extinguishes, I will be a few booths over with two very hot cups of strong coffee and a wish to continue a conversation I think is only beginning. For now, though.” He reached into the collar of his dress shirt and pulled out a small black vile on a long leather cord. He gripped the cord and pulled it, snapping the leather that held it around his neck. Holding the two pieces of leather cord in his hand he offered the necklace with the black vile to her. “You did a trick, now I am providing you with a treat.”
He passed the necklace over to Valecia. “A treat from the grand duke and a dragon prince.” He looked from the vile to Valecia’s eyes. “Blood. Dragon blood. More specifically, my dragon blood. Granted it was pre-reawakening of the Starfire, but I can assume it might still be valuable.” He realized it wasn’t the smartest move to give a weaver of magic one’s blood as all kinds of spells could be concocted and even used to harm him. Dragons were incredibly subjectable to magic, and he could have just put himself at her mercy. If this was the case, she better know how to kill him, or he would eat her. He trusted she was one of the good ones and would use his blood for good.
He took the one hand he was still holding and lifted it to his lips. He placed a kiss to the back of her fingers. An old-fashioned tradition from an old-fashioned soul. “Until the candles burn themselves out. Enjoy your evening, Valecia. I hope there is still magic coming your way.” He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand and then released her hand. He tucked his hands into the front pockets of his pants. He stepped out of the tent and was hit by a chilling gust of wind. He felt goosebumps rise up all over his body. “Woooo!” he said as his muscles shivered. He stuck his head back into the tent. “It’s getting chilly out here. Winter is getting impatient. Make sure you wrap up when the stars grow quiet.”
He stepped away from the tent and wandered off to see if he could find Red or a really good cup of coffee that might impress a certain seer.
He passed the necklace over to Valecia. “A treat from the grand duke and a dragon prince.” He looked from the vile to Valecia’s eyes. “Blood. Dragon blood. More specifically, my dragon blood. Granted it was pre-reawakening of the Starfire, but I can assume it might still be valuable.” He realized it wasn’t the smartest move to give a weaver of magic one’s blood as all kinds of spells could be concocted and even used to harm him. Dragons were incredibly subjectable to magic, and he could have just put himself at her mercy. If this was the case, she better know how to kill him, or he would eat her. He trusted she was one of the good ones and would use his blood for good.
He took the one hand he was still holding and lifted it to his lips. He placed a kiss to the back of her fingers. An old-fashioned tradition from an old-fashioned soul. “Until the candles burn themselves out. Enjoy your evening, Valecia. I hope there is still magic coming your way.” He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand and then released her hand. He tucked his hands into the front pockets of his pants. He stepped out of the tent and was hit by a chilling gust of wind. He felt goosebumps rise up all over his body. “Woooo!” he said as his muscles shivered. He stuck his head back into the tent. “It’s getting chilly out here. Winter is getting impatient. Make sure you wrap up when the stars grow quiet.”
He stepped away from the tent and wandered off to see if he could find Red or a really good cup of coffee that might impress a certain seer.
Valecia stood motionless after the velvet curtain fell closed behind him. The sound of his footsteps faded, yet the space he left behind felt charged, alive with something that was not entirely magic. The air itself seemed reluctant to let him go.
Her gaze lingered on the spot where he had stood. The mirror’s surface had gone still, yet faint threads of silver light still shimmered through it. She touched the edge of the frame lightly, her pulse unsteady in a way it had not been in ages.
Coffee, she thought as a soft and unexpected smile revealed itself. Of all the invitations I have been given, that is the one that unsettles me most.
It was not the mortal drink that stirred her, but the simplicity of it. No offerings, no oaths, no worship, just a man who had seen her clearly and still wished to share the quiet between worlds. The last to speak to her so plainly had been the King, long before power and pride had turned their affection to ruin. That wound had healed, but it had never forgotten.
She drew a breath and let it out slowly, allowing the old ache to settle beneath the calm. Do not linger there, she reminded herself. Some flames are meant to remain in the past, no matter how warmly they once burned.
Still, as she turned away from the mirror, she could not quite suppress the whisper of warmth that lingered in her chest, fragile, human, and beautifully dangerous. He called me Valecia, she mused, her eyes softening. Not Seer, not Lady. Valecia. It has been too long since I liked the sound of my own name.
Her gaze drifted to the small table beside the mirror where his gift now rested. The necklace’s gemstone caught the candlelight in hues of violet and gold, and when she reached to touch it, she felt a faint echo of his energy threaded through the metal. For a moment she hesitated, then closed her fingers around it. The warmth it released was not fire but something gentler, steady and sure. A token of truth, not devotion, she thought, the faintest sigh escaping her lips. He gives without claiming. I had forgotten what that felt like.
The tent slowly reset itself at her unspoken command. The candles brightened. The scent of myrrh deepened. She passed her hand above the crystal dish, and the sweets within began to glow anew, each one infused with gentler enchantments of courage and truth. The mirror pulsed once more, alive and expectant.
Her expression was serene, but her eyes held the faintest glint of something softer, a spark left behind by a man who had dared to look beyond her magic and see the woman beneath.
“Perhaps,” she murmured quietly to the empty air, “when the night is truly done, I will have that coffee.”
She smiled, small and secret, before turning her attention back to the mirror. Its surface rippled in readiness, reflecting the warm light of the tent. When she finally spoke again, her voice carried the familiar mystic calm, though it lingered with a trace of something newly awakened.
“Come in,” she said softly. “The mirror is ready to see you.”
Her gaze lingered on the spot where he had stood. The mirror’s surface had gone still, yet faint threads of silver light still shimmered through it. She touched the edge of the frame lightly, her pulse unsteady in a way it had not been in ages.
Coffee, she thought as a soft and unexpected smile revealed itself. Of all the invitations I have been given, that is the one that unsettles me most.
It was not the mortal drink that stirred her, but the simplicity of it. No offerings, no oaths, no worship, just a man who had seen her clearly and still wished to share the quiet between worlds. The last to speak to her so plainly had been the King, long before power and pride had turned their affection to ruin. That wound had healed, but it had never forgotten.
She drew a breath and let it out slowly, allowing the old ache to settle beneath the calm. Do not linger there, she reminded herself. Some flames are meant to remain in the past, no matter how warmly they once burned.
Still, as she turned away from the mirror, she could not quite suppress the whisper of warmth that lingered in her chest, fragile, human, and beautifully dangerous. He called me Valecia, she mused, her eyes softening. Not Seer, not Lady. Valecia. It has been too long since I liked the sound of my own name.
Her gaze drifted to the small table beside the mirror where his gift now rested. The necklace’s gemstone caught the candlelight in hues of violet and gold, and when she reached to touch it, she felt a faint echo of his energy threaded through the metal. For a moment she hesitated, then closed her fingers around it. The warmth it released was not fire but something gentler, steady and sure. A token of truth, not devotion, she thought, the faintest sigh escaping her lips. He gives without claiming. I had forgotten what that felt like.
The tent slowly reset itself at her unspoken command. The candles brightened. The scent of myrrh deepened. She passed her hand above the crystal dish, and the sweets within began to glow anew, each one infused with gentler enchantments of courage and truth. The mirror pulsed once more, alive and expectant.
Her expression was serene, but her eyes held the faintest glint of something softer, a spark left behind by a man who had dared to look beyond her magic and see the woman beneath.
“Perhaps,” she murmured quietly to the empty air, “when the night is truly done, I will have that coffee.”
She smiled, small and secret, before turning her attention back to the mirror. Its surface rippled in readiness, reflecting the warm light of the tent. When she finally spoke again, her voice carried the familiar mystic calm, though it lingered with a trace of something newly awakened.
“Come in,” she said softly. “The mirror is ready to see you.”
💜 The Mirror Sleeps 💜
The candles had burned low, their flames flickering before finally extinguishing themselves. The mirror stood quiet at last, its light subdued to match the rhythm of the sorceress’s heart. Valecia lingered beside it, her fingertips tracing the cool glass as though feeling for the echoes of those who had come before.
Each visitor had left something behind - a question, a truth, a fragment of courage - and the mirror had kept them all, weaving their reflections into its silent depths. The air still faintly vibrated with the memory of laughter, of wonder, and of the soft gasp that came when a secret met its light.
Valecia exhaled slowly. The faint scent of myrrh and sugar clung to the air, the last of her enchanted sweets glimmering softly in the crystal dish. Her gaze drifted toward the necklace resting near the mirror’s base. For a moment, her hand hovered above it, a trace of warmth rising in her chest that had nothing to do with magic.
“Hope,” she whispered, her voice barely more than breath. “Even a seer can forget what it feels like.”
She lifted the necklace gently, fastening it around her throat. The smallest smile graced her face. She was exhausted from using so much energy, but her spirit was somehow at peace and excited over the things the mirror had revealed.
Then, with a sweep of her hand, the last burning candle dimmed, and the mirror’s surface rippled one final time before falling still. “Rest now,” she murmured to it. “Until the veil thins again.”
💜🔮✨
Beyond the tent, laughter rose and fell across the Trick or Treat grounds. The glow of lanterns shimmered like fallen stars, and the air carried the mingled scents of caramel, smoke, and October chill. A soft wind swept through the paths, tugging at stray ribbons and stirring faint trails of fog that curled toward Valecia’s tent.
Inside, the mirror flickered once, casting a final breath of violet light across the velvet walls. Valecia stood at its center, the faint gleam of her necklace mirroring the glow within the glass. For a long heartbeat, she simply watched the reflection ripple, then smiled, quiet and sure.
“Until next year,” she whispered, her voice carrying just beyond the curtain, threading itself into the music and laughter of the night. “When the veil thins again, the mirror will open once more.”
The mirror sighed. Outside, the festival lights shimmered brighter for a moment, as if in answer. Then the scene faded slowly to darkness, leaving behind only the echo of her voice and the faint scent of myrrh, sugar, and something unspoken - a promise waiting to be kept.
💜🔮✨
OOC:
Thank you to everyone who stepped inside Valecia Valentine’s Mirror Tent for RPR’s Trick or Treat 2025. Each reflection shared and every story told became part of the tent’s magic. The mirror now rests, but its light will return when October calls again.
Until then, ✨
~Stormie
~Stormie
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