Chapter 8 PIERCING THE REFLECTIVE VEIL

For three days, I was ill. I could not return to the Crimson Forest, and the only thing that brought relief was the water I froze for myself. I took a sip, froze it, and sucked on the ice to soothe my burnt throat. Sitting on my bed, I repeated the process, letting the ice melt on my tongue.

I stared out of the window at the mountain view, contemplating the immense task of creating a planet as a single individual. The complexity of orchestrating molecules to form mountains and directing water's flow was daunting, possibly taking millions or billions of years.

I sighed, reminded of what science books had taught me. My gaze shifted to the glass left by Bishop Pricina. It stood as a stark reminder of what I could achieve. Could I achieve something similar?

Looking around my disorderly castle room, I realized the chaotic stone walls were a deliberate design, meant to allow someone like me to practice reorganizing matter. I tried rearranging some stones using mere glances instead of words, forming a pattern, but it drained me. Such efforts meant I couldn't focus on freezing the water in my mouth.

Despite the guidance from the other Christian, I was still new to fully harnessing my abilities. As my body healed, I faced immense pain. Breathing and speaking were challenging. Only the ice I froze in my mouth offered some respite. I could freeze it in my mouth, let it melt in my esophagus, and refreeze it in my stomach. It brought relief, although separating the melted ice from stomach acid was tedious.

By the fourth day, I improved slightly. I could utter words and breathe more comfortably. No longer reliant on ice, I ventured towards the Crimson Forest. Instead of going straight to the heart, I visited my throat, overseeing ongoing repairs. The damage was unlike anything I'd encountered before, with cells appearing warped, as if I were undergoing a transformation from within.

Studying the dark lines resembling harp strings that formed my vocal cords, I realized the cells were different not just because they were damaged, but because I was changing. These were new cells, indicating a shift away from my previous human form.

I faced a choice: revert my body to its former state or embrace these new cells that promised a superior design. Allowing the change would make me less fragile, but the process of fully transforming into an immortal being would take an incredibly long time if I managed it myself – perhaps millions of years.

I chose to embrace the change, knowing it was a step towards a more evolved form. With determination, I instructed my body to halt any further pain and initiated a cleanup of the area, numbing nerve endings to prevent discomfort.

As I observed different parts of myself shifting, I understood why some individuals abandoned immortality. The process challenged everything I had ever known or hoped for. It went against teachings and expectations, perhaps even the desires of those long-gone gods who may have yearned for familiarity.

Thinking of Trinity, I felt a pang in my chest. She was the only thing I would leave behind and miss.

When I felt confident that I had commanded my body to avoid further pain, I longed to communicate with the other Christian. I found myself outside the shrine of his heart.

Inside, he paced, balancing the sword on his shoulders. Spotting me, he held the sword, rushing to my side for a kiss.

The kiss lacked physical sensation, feeling more like a poignant memory. It was ephemeral, fading as quickly as it arrived. We pulled apart, our eyes meeting.

"Did you know what would happen when we pulled the sword free?" I inquired, my voice smoother and more composed than before.

He shook his head. "You left to rule the Crimson Forest, didn't you?"

"It's different out there. Our actions have changed me."

"As we intended."

"Did you foresee the pain I would endure?"

He shrugged helplessly. "I couldn't prevent your suffering, and I didn't make you consume those stones. They offered pleasure, so there must be an equal opposite effect."

Frustration bubbled within me. "The pain I felt couldn't possibly be equal to the pleasure I gained from consuming those rocks."

"The pleasure of consuming them wasn't the only cost. You also gained knowledge. Have you practiced manipulating matter, shifting stone, communicating with water?"

All of his statements held true. While it might be a fair exchange, I still felt cheated. "You could have warned me."

He tilted his head and said, "I did. Every gain comes with a loss. This time, as you achieved something significant, something else was bound to be taken away. Please remember this principle and don't protest every natural consequence."

Groaning, I lamented, "I despise this process of maturing."

He gestured for me to come closer, and I obliged. "You've been asked to mature far more rapidly than most. Complain all you want. Go ahead."

"It hurt so much! It took me three days just to recover enough to come here."

"Only three days! You incredible woman! I thought it had been three weeks!" he exclaimed.

Pouting, I questioned, "Are you making fun of me?"

"It amuses both of us."

"Now that we have the sword, what's our next step?" I asked wearily, still weakened from my ordeal.

"You're going to shatter the mirror in my chamber," he declared, a playful tilt to his head.

Taking the sword in hand, he handed it to me. It was my first time holding it. In a different world, this might have resembled a delighted husband offering scissors to his wife for a boutique ribbon-cutting ceremony. Instead, I stood with a black sword, preparing to pierce a mirror.

I felt no excitement, only vulnerability and aching weariness.

He wrapped his hands around mine on the sword's hilt. "Okay," I relented. "I'm supposed to pierce the mirror and impale it? I get that part, but what happens afterward?"

"I will vanish as you send my essence to the real me. Your reflection in the mirror serves as the target. When you stab the glass, you need to stab yourself in the heart," he explained calmly.

"Stabbing myself in the heart sounds like the exact opposite of what I should be doing," I protested.

"It may seem so, but you're not entirely human anymore. Some of the things we do to achieve our goals might resemble acts of self-destruction. We perform them to remind ourselves that we've moved beyond being merely human. It's a way to prevent slipping back into old habits. Plus, remember, you're attacking a mirrored image, not yourself."

Though hesitant, I understood the reasoning behind his words. I wondered what other acts of self-alteration I might need to undertake on this path.

He continued, "Once I cross to the other side, I'll mend your heart and make it beat again."

"I thought you couldn't affect living matter in the Crimson Forest?"

"I can't directly, but I'll convey your command to heal the cells there. Just as you're within my heart now, I'll pull the blade through the mirror into your heart, completing the connection. As I step into my Crimson Forest, I'll merge with Damon Christianus. Christian will retain my memories, and when we meet again, we'll be one person. The mirror will become like glass, allowing us to communicate and plan our future meetings."

"You'll pull it through?"

"Clutching the sword's blade, I'll cut my hands and pull it through. You endured agony to send me, and I'll endure it to arrive. The joy we'll feel at the end will outweigh any hardship." His words resonated with fervor and determination. "Are you ready?"

"No! Will there be a version of me in my heart's chambers when you arrive?" I interjected, interrupting his rush.

"Unlikely," he explained, his pace slowing. "Unless you intentionally left a part of yourself there, it's probably empty."

"That sounds lonely," I commented, jutting my lower lip out in a pout.

He looked at me intently, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes, before continuing, "It might be, but if we succeed, all these fragmented parts of me that linger here will pass through the mirror and rejoin my body. Then those chambers will be vacant too. After all, I'm not supposed to be here. I should be with my body, shaping matter and traversing the halls."

His hands closed around mine on the sword's hilt, conveying warmth and reassurance.

"I can't wait to see you," I breathed, meeting his intense gaze.

"If you thought I fell for you hard before, just wait until you see how much harder I'll fall when I meet you in person. I'll be at your service. Are you prepared?"

I nodded, my concern for the real Christian growing stronger.

He released me and stepped back. "Thrust the sword through the mirror!"

Steeling myself, I retreated a few steps and then thrust the sword into the mirror's surface. I should have anticipated the mirror's texture being unlike that of the real world. It was soft, almost fleshy, and an intense pain surged through my chest. It felt as if the world's thinnest needle had pierced between my ribs, stabbing into my heart.

I screamed and collapsed, clutching at the mirror's frame. Footsteps echoed, growing louder as someone approached.