The walls both there and not-there as Layla took in the beautiful space.
Far below, the main floor stood empty except for a large pool of silver water. Their alcove was currently occupied by five furiously handsome Ephilohim spread out in a wide semi-circle around them, three men and two women dressed in battle-leathers as ornate as Heathren’s but white. Each had blazing white eyes, long silver-white hair braided up into a crest and cascading down their backs, and a vicious silver spear – trained directly on Layla and Heathren. Only one had stepped forward; a robustly strong Archangel who held his spear extended right to Heathren’s throat.
Though the Ephilohim were impressive, each with pure-white wings spread wide, only the man with his spear leveled at Heathren had his wings fully spread – each filament honed into a white blade just like Heathren’s opal-silver ones. Layla stayed immaculately still in Heathren’s arms as he and the man held their standoff. At last, the big Archangel’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. Shaking his head, he eased his spear’s threat, planting it butt-end upon the stone by his boots. But his wings didn’t ease from their menacing spread.
Still sharp with millions of knives.
“Who have you brought to our hallowed Mirror, Heathren Merkami?” The big man snorted derisively as his white eyes pinned Layla with their dark pupils. “I smell Ascendant blood in her, though mostly Dragon.”
“She is welcome here,” Heathren spoke calmly, though his voice was still tight, his own wings not yet released from their blades. “As am I, Eregion.”
“She is welcome due to her Ascendant bloodlines, yes.” The big Archangel’s eyes were frigid as they moved from Layla to Heathren. “You, however, I’m willing to change my mind about. Considering the destruction you caused when you came here last.”
“That was over a thousand years ago,” Heathren spoke bluntly, “and I had cause. In any case, Layla seeks only to trace her bloodlines through the Mirror. She wishes to find her father, and then we will be gone.”
“You’d better be.” Easing his wings at last, the big Archangel still exuded an aura of vast displeasure as he finally released his filamentous knives. The rest of his cadre eased with him, setting the butt-ends of their spears to the stone as Heathren eased his grip on Layla. She realized he’d been prepared to whisk her away if things got bad. As Layla turned, facing the Archangels fully, she understood these were some of Heathren’s kin.
True Ephilohim that had never Fallen.
As Layla watched the Ephilohim, she realized they had never come to the Twilight Realm or the human world, and thus had none of its taint in their bodies or wings. They seemed almost gossamer like the coliseum as she took them in, as if they were there but not quite. It was an effect Layla had only seen with Djinn, and like Djinn, these Ephilohim could firm their there-ness at will. They’d seemed more substantial initially when they were ready to fight, but now looked almost like veils blowing in a wind of ether as Layla watched them.
And they regarded her back with equal interest.
As they stared at her, someone else flowed up the coliseum’s steps. A woman, she glowed with intense radiance as she came, her seven-layer wings spread wide and floating her upward upon a wind of ether. She wore no battle-leathers, but a shimmering white robe with a high collar similar to the one Layla had seen on the man in her dream. As the woman came, she beamed at Layla with eyes that were not white but intensely sky-blue, also like the man from her dream. Arriving, she set a long white hand to her heart, and Layla saw minuscule tattooing of gold and silver script with diacritical marks cascading in whorls all over her hands.
Writing and re-writing itself endlessly.
“Layla Price, be welcome at the Mirror of Ages.” The woman spoke in a clarion tone, her voice a flowing, beautiful alto. She seemed to be in the prime of her life, yet as Layla stared at her, she saw the woman was ancient. Hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of years rested in her calm blue eyes and the slightly amused smile upon her full lips. Gesturing to her guards, she indicated them. “Please forgive my Ageless Guard. Heathren Merkami sets them on-edge.”
“Because he nearly blew this place up last time he was here?” Layla asked bluntly.
“Because he is a human’s child, yet has more power than all five of my Guard put together. Or did he not tell you his mother was a human mortal? And he himself, as a Fallen Ephilohim half-breed, is quite the enigma.”
“He conveniently skipped that part when we were getting acquainted.” Layla blinked at Heathren, though she saw no lie in his eyes as he watched her. Looking back to the Ephilohim matron, he spoke with a reverent hand upon his breast.
“Mirror-Keeper Adrina,” Heathren spoke with deep calm now, “I seek nothing from you today, only Layla, who needs to find her father. She has been granted a vision of him through the ether, and for personal reasons must go see him. But he is elusive and difficult even for me to track. I know approximately where he and the other remaining Royal Dragon Binds like Layla reside now, but cannot locate them specifically, and cannot penetrate their stronghold. Can you aid us?”
“Mmm.” Closing her eyes, the woman Adrina lifted her chin and took a deep breath, as if scenting etheric winds Layla was not party to. Opening her eyes, she pinned them to Layla. “Your father King Ruslan Aristov has secluded himself. We can sense his location, but he is adept at moving etheric winds around his safe house; as is the one who protects him. To find your blood-father, you will need to consult the Mirror directly. And use the resonance inside you that is his to establish a connection.”
“What do you mean, theresonance inside me that is his?” Layla asked, frowning.
“Why, the part of you that comes from him, of course.” The old Ephilohim matron smiled kindly. Beckoning, she turned towards the steps that led down to the center of the many-tiered coliseum. “Come. Heathren, you will support Layla during her time viewing the Mirror, as I sense you already have a strong connection to her. Come, Layla. Your journey continues here, but it does not end with your father. Let us descend.”
With those cryptic words, the Archangel matron began to flow back down the steps of the coliseum with her wings wide. Following with the rest of the Ageless Guard behind them now, Heathren and Layla moved out of the alcove and down the layers of porticos, towards the central floor. The coliseum was enormous, Layla realized as she descended – far larger than she’d initially thought and about five times the size of the one in Rome. Distance seemed warped here as they arrived at the central expanse of white stone, and as Layla turned, seeing the vast spread of the coliseum now from all angles, she realized time felt warped here too.
As if a minute in this place could be a year and a year could be a millennium.
“It is true.” Turning, the Ephilohim matron eyed Layla with calm grace as they stepped up before the vast silver pool in the center of the arena. Her Ageless Guard flew out now, taking up positions around the far edges of the central floor and staring up at the vaults like sentries, though Eregion went with a black look in his eyes for Heathren. “Mortals do not generally tarry here long, for they may find their world has moved on without them in the meantime. A day here can be a year in the mortal realms… and sometimes it can be just a day. Or even five seconds.”
“Time means little in this place.” Heathren spoke as Layla glanced at the matron. “We are far closer to true Ascended vibrations here, which have no distance, no physical substance, and no time.”
“Hence why everything seems… porous.” Layla spoke, indicating the there-not-there archways and a softly-glowing white blankness she could see beyond the vaults.
“Indeed.” Heathren spoke.
But they had arrived at the coliseums’ central pool, and Layla realized it was enormous – fully the size of an Olympic swimming pool though perfectly circular. The water within flowed with a viscousness like liquid mercury, as if it was somehow more substantial than the rest of the space. Turning, the Ephilohim matron opened one hand, indicating a set of white stone steps scrolling with script that Layla saw descended into the silver water.
“There lies your way.” Adrina spoke pleasantly, though with a hint of warning in her voice. “Only you, Layla, as the Mirror Seeker are allowed into the pool with your chosen Champion to support you – Heathren. I will guide from outside to push you deeper into what you see. When your awareness has opened fully into that which you Seek, the Mirror will connect you and put you through. Be warned: the process of Seeking may only last a moment, or it can last lifetimes, and still some fail to find what they look for. It all depends on you, and how willing you are to be honest with yourself. For if you are honest with yourself, the Mirror will be honest with you. May you fare well. Enter when you are ready.”
