The Reflection of Piper Chastidy - Sian Webster (the little red hen read aloud TXT) 📗

tears betrayed my self-control, sliding down my cheeks.

“Come on,” my reflection said from beside me, “we have very little time. There could be more Fragments on their way.”

I turned to face her, numerous questions spiralling around my head. She flipped open the cover of what seemed to be a keypad that hung halfway up the wall beside the mirror.  She started typing something I couldn’t see before closing the cover once more. I turned back to the mirror before me, just in time to watch the image of my home disappear, black tunnelling in from the corners of the glass until it reached the centre, closing the portal like an old-fashioned television would turn off. I felt another sob rising in my throat, but I choked it down. I wiped the traitorous tears from my cheeks and stood up, suddenly determined.

“Fragments,” I said slowly, “that’s the name of the creature that killed my father?”

My reflection looked me up and down, a critical look on her face as she stood lazing against the wall with her arms folded. “Yes. That’s also the name of the creature that will kill you if we don’t get you somewhere safe.”

My brow furrowed. “I killed that one back there. There was only one.”

My reflection sighed. “Piper,” she said slowly, “the Fragments live on this side of the Glass. There may have been one on Earth, but there’s a whole race here.”

“Here…” I paused. “Where exactly is ‘here’?”

“We call it the Desolation.” She said simply. “Because that’s all there is left.”

I opened my mouth to speak and then closed it again, a single thought running through my mind; what on Earth have I gotten myself into? And from my reflection’s words, the answer was simple – nothing on Earth at all.

She met my eyes. “We have to move.”

“Move where?” I pressed.

“Somewhere safe.”

“Is anywhere safe?”

There was a pause.

“No.” She took a deep breath. “But there’s one person who can ensure your safety. Come on.”

She pushed herself off from the wall and made her way over to the metal door in the corner of the room. She pushed the handle down and the door opened instantly. For some reason, my brain had been expecting it to stay closed. There was no reason for the door to be locked, but I had already been trapped in their world, what difference would it make to be trapped in a single room? I forced myself to stop thinking, and followed my reflection out of the room.

We were thrust into a maze of concrete walls identical to those of the room we had just left. I lost track of how many corners we turned, how many stairs we walked down. If there was one thing I was glad about, it was that my reflection knew where she was going. I wished I did. Finally, we descended a final staircase and found ourselves in a large foyer of a building. There was a reception desk near the back wall, various waist-high desks protruding from the walls at random intervals and a few plain stone benches in the middle of the floor. Each desk in the room was occupied, the reception desk by four people, the others by one. The receptionists were dressed in red blazers with a silver embroidered logo on the pocket that I couldn’t make out, but the occupants of the other desks and the few occupants of the benches in the centre of the room were dressed in casual clothes. Well, casual for the 1800s. They all wore suits and ruffles, the females wearing gowns or tunics. My reflection’s attire now made sense to me. Looking at her black and grey tunic, I realised how useful it was that the women here were not forced into dresses like they had been in the 1800s back at home.

Every person in the room froze when they spotted my reflection and I. I hastily looked down, no longer critiquing their clothes.

A receptionist ran over to us, looking flustered.

“Ma’am,” the woman addressed my reflection, “Ma’am, Sir Dorian wishes for the doppelganger to see him right away.”

My reflection laughed bitterly, but didn’t slow down. She kept walking in the direction of the glass doors at the front of the building. I had no choice but to follow. “Didn’t take him long to notice, huh?” She muttered

The receptionist hurried to keep up with us. “It is – uh – quite hard to miss, Ma’am. Not many people in the Desolation have identical twins.”

My reflection turned to face the receptionist and rolled her eyes. “Sir Dorian can go to hell.”

“Ma’am, I must insist—”

“No.” The word brought the room to silence. “Sir Dorian will be seeing neither of us.”

“I’m afraid that is where you’re wrong.”

My reflection and I spun around, our eyes narrowing in on a man at the top of the staircase we had just descended before attempting our escape. He was of slim build and average height, dark hair hanging over his forehead. A smile played around his lips. He was gorgeous, I realised, and he seemed to know it very well.

My reflection cursed under her breath.

“It seems that I am seeing you both at once,” the man – who I assumed was Sir Dorian – continued. “A very rare occurrence, I must say.” He began to descend the stairs. “However, there is only one of you I wish to see.”

“The only thing I wish to see is my fist breaking your god damn nose.” My reflection growled.

“Now, now, Phae,” he smirked as he made his way toward us, “I only wish to talk to Piper here. Nothing more.”

I was taken aback. “Phae?” I asked incredulously.

“What?” My reflection raised her eyebrows. “Just because we look the same doesn’t mean we have to share a name too.”

I blinked. “Right.”

“It would also make it awfully difficult to address you both,” Sir Dorian commented. “I would ask for Piper Chastidy, and both of you would turn around.”

“Why do you want to talk to me so badly?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. Phae didn’t seem to trust him, but I wanted to make my own judgement of him. Like she said, all we shared was our looks.

“You have just been through a great ordeal.” He observed. “You must have a number of questions. I’m willing to answer them.”

Phae took a step forward, pushing me behind her as if I were in danger. “I can answer her questions perfectly well.” She snapped.

“I’m sure you can,” Dorian agreed, “however, it may be slightly eerie asking questions and having your own voice respond. I only wish to make Miss Chastidy as comfortable as possible.”

My eyes travelled slowly from Dorian to Phae, and I could see where he was coming from. The fact that Phae and this whole world existed was daunting enough. It was possible that I would never get used to talking to or looking at Phae. I took a step to the side so I was no longer blocked by my reflection.

“Fine.” I said. “You can have half an hour, and then I leave with Phae. No one else. No negotiations. I leave in half an hour with Phae, and you will answer all of my questions.”

“Well then,” Sir Dorian smiled slyly at Phae, but his words were directed at me, “I guess we have an agreement. Follow me.” He turned to look at the receptionist. “Keep Phae in the lobby. I will call for her when Piper wishes to leave.”

I followed Sir Dorian from the room, staying at least two paces behind him. Phae’s refusal to speak to him made me suspicious of his intentions, but from what I had witnessed since the appearance of the receptionist, Phae didn’t seem to trust anyone. I understood that she wanted to get me to “somewhere safe” even though she even admitted that no place exists, but what I needed was my questions to be answered, and Sir Dorian’s answers could help me understand what was going on in the Desolation and why my father was targeted. Regardless, I regretted my decision to talk with Sir Dorian as soon as Phae was out of sight. At least if I somehow got into trouble with Phae there, she would have been able to get me out of it. Me, on the other hand? I was completely useless.

Sir Dorian led me through a set of double doors, exquisitely carved out of what seemed to be mahogany, but in this alien world it could have been anything. Before passing through them, I paused. The doors featured a circular symbol carved into the centre, surrounded by swirling trees. A seven-pointed crown sat in the centre of the circle, and floating above each apex of the crown was a seven-pointed star. Judging from the symbol itself and the fine furnishings of not only the door, but the room that lay beyond it, I realised that Sir Dorian must have been far more important in the Desolation than I had first imagined.

The room was a huge, hexagonal shape, each corner adorned with pillars of carved wood – swirling trees that rose all the way to the roof, before breaking off into infinite branches, all six pillars entwining together to create a canopy of carved branches and leaves that filled the entire roof. On each wall, the symbol from the door was given pride of place, shimmering gold paint on a maroon background. While I had been staring open-mouthed at the room’s décor, Dorian had made his way over to a desk in the centre of the room that matched perfectly with the carved wooden pillars. I couldn’t quite see the entire desk, but I was fairly certain that the symbol with the crown and stars had been scorched into the top of it.

“Please,” Sir Dorian said politely as he sat at the desk, “take a seat.” He gestured to the couch that sat before the desk.

Slowly, I made my way to the centre of the room and sat down. “I take it you’re fond of trees.” I muttered, trailing my eyes around the room once more.

“Fond of what?” He asked, seeming perplexed.

My brow furrowed. “…Trees. They’re carved in everything – the door, the pillars, the legs of your desk.”

Realisation seemed to strike him. “Oh! Yes! Is that what they’re called?”

Shrouded in confusion, I forced myself to nod.

Sir Dorian laughed, saying the word aloud, testing it on his tongue. “Quite a peculiar word, isn’t it, ‘trees’?”

“I… It never crossed my mind before, Sir.” I mumbled.

“Please,” he stopped me, “call me Dorian.”

I nodded.

“I’m ever so sorry,” he began. “You must be ever so confused, and I can’t imagine I’m helping. It’s just… there aren’t any… trees… here. They only grow on the other side of the Glass, you see. I’m sure you have many questions. Ask away, my love.”

I flinched at the pet name. “What is this place?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“You are currently in the Desolation, Miss Chastidy. I understand it’s quite a change from Earth, am I correct?”

“No kidding.” I muttered. “Phae said the Desolation is all that’s left. What did she mean by that?”

Dorian paused, his grey eyes scrutinizing me. “That’s a rather long, rather dark tale, Piper.” He said finally. “I’m not sure if you truly wish to hear it.”

“Give me short, dumbed-down version then.” I pressed.

He sighed. “Forty years ago, the Desolation was an exact mirror of Earth, down to the smallest grain of sand. Of course, it wasn’t called the Desolation back then, but this realm’s past name has been long forgotten, I’m afraid. It is said to bring bad luck, uttering the name. Only the oldest members of our population remember, and they dare not speak it.

“Our race, the humans of the Desolation, were in charge of the protection of Earth and its people. To do so, every day on a schedule, every person in the realm would come to one of these buildings that we are currently in. It is called a Glass House, and this is the only one remaining in