Chapter Text
Of course Viren had to have his secret lair sequestered away in the darkest, creepiest part of the castle. No self-respecting mage could have their super illegal magic lab in a nice, well lit sun room or parlor.
Gods forbid.
Sighing you gripped your lit candelabra tighter and made your way down the winding staircase. The further down you went, the staler the air became. The colder, too, you bitterly noticed. It felt like a crypt. You pulled your cloak tighter around you and mourned your fate.
When Viren was arrested, there were still many unanswered questions and the ex-Lord was being less than forthcoming with answers. With the return of King (and wasn’t that a thought) Ezran, the more...forceful interrogations had been halted and therefore the investigation was at a standstill.
As head scribe for the crown, it was your job to go and document each dark artifact, spell book, mysterious liquid or particularly suspicious rock for the official records. Both the King and his council hoped your findings would shine a light on Virens’ scheming, though you had your doubts anything important would be found so easily. Mages had many methods of concealing their secrets, and being no mage yourself, you weren’t sure you’d be able to recognize if something had been spelled.
Either way, you had to try. The guards had cleared the area of any immediate threats, but that definitely didn’t mean it was safe. You were under very strict instructions to not touch anything, and with the growing sense of dread each step brought, you found disobedience unlikely.
A bluish glow illuminated the bottom of the stairs as you arrived, casting hazy shadows throughout the room. A quick survey revealed a sconce with no fire, but a glowing crystal. You made a mental note to look into that later. First though…
Several barrels were stacked against the walls, old candles melted to the wick upon them. Also upon them were several preserves jars filled with...animal parts. Because of course they were. Sighing, you put down the candelabra on the lowest step, followed by your bag after taking out your journal and a charcoal pencil.
Scowling, you started inventorying each item and your best guess as to its use, gagging slightly as you documented what looked to be a sheep's stomach. On this went until the landing was documented, and you moved on to the next room.
Upon first entering, this room looked exactly like a dungeon; it was small, had a reinforced door and chains hanging off one wall. But when you stepped father in and the reach of your light grew, you saw what looked like...a mirror? A mirror with a table, a scattering of items upon it.
As you went to place the light on the table, your eyes caught on the glint of the knife and you froze. A chill ran up your spine as you saw it was stained. What the hell had Viren been up to?
Shaking your head to clear your dark thoughts, you meticulously documented each item. As you wrote, however, you couldn’t shake the sense of unease. Unnervingly, it felt like you were being watched and you surreptitiously glanced around to make sure there were no magic monsters hiding in the corners.
When you saw none you laughed at your own fear, though it was shaky.
“C’mon Y/N, you’re being ridiculous.” You chastised as you finished inventory of the table. “Magic monsters. Yeah right.”
Turning back towards the mirror, you took in it's ornateness. It was framed with some sort of runes carved into the side of gold plating, ending with a flourish at it's top. It was also full length.
You snorted at Viren’s narcissism and began to sketch the runes. As you sketched, you wondered at their meaning. None of them you were familiar with but...absentmindedly you ran your finger over the one that looked like a fancy capital ‘H’. You didn’t know what they meant but they seemed similar to known runes, but with more flourish. Perhaps it was ancient script, some accents lost with time? Or did the extra lines add more meaning?
Lost in thought, you caught movement reflecting in the mirror and distractedly glanced over, expecting an errant piece of hair.
Black eyes stared back at you, golden iris’ alight with curiosity.
You blink dumbly for a beat before your confusion is beat out by terror.
“WHAT.” You stumble over the table in your haste to place some distance, knocking most of the items off and falling on your ass, still scrambling to back up. You quickly find your back to a wall, staring open-mouthed in abject horror at-
Wait.
Fully taking in the image in the mirror, you see a startouch elf looking down at you, amusement coloring his features.
Your eyes narrow.
He was laughing at you.
Shooting to your feet you storm back over to the glass.
“What the hell, asshole!” You thrust your finger up, pointing accusingly, “What is your problem!? Popping up out of nowhere like a gods damned wraith!”
Infuriatingly, he only stared back, smirking.
“Well!?”
Still, silence.
“Who are you? Do you work with Viren?” You tried again, your curiosity slightly muting your anger.
Your only answer was a tilt of the head, and that gods-damned smirk.
Fury hit you like a red-hot poker to the chest.
“Fine! You want to be that way, I should just smash your stupid mirror and be done with it! Spying on me, on the castle, like some kind of...of...spy!” Pacing as you ranted, your foot hit your opened journal, discarded in your shock. You let out a breath when you see it, breathing in through your nose and counting to ten.
With one last glare at the infuriating elf, you snatch your journal from the ground and storm out of the room, slamming the door behind you.
As the adrenaline wore off you hugged your notes close, stumbling up the stairs. Thoughts raced through your head, each more frenzied than the last.
Who was that? And why was he appearing in a mirror that belonged to Viren, of all people? You had a hard time explaining any sort of allegiance between an elf and Viren. His hatred of Xadia was well known, had eventually landed him in the dungeons. So why was he in contact with a startouch elf? Where did he even find a startouch elf? The last known encounter was centuries ago.
Each question led to more and slowly your mind became a frustrating knot with no hope of untangling.
You didn’t know who, or what, was in that mirror but you knew one thing for certain:
You had to tell the council.