Chapter 1099: The Dim Court and the Mirror Cavern
Between layer upon layer of winding staircases, behind one ancient door after another, countless solemn and ornate floors stacked deep within the silent tower. The dim court stood like a thick, layered tome resting upon the earth—each floor seemingly a condensed memory of the ancient, obscure, and secretive kingdom of Violet. The deeper one ventured into these floors, the heavier the sense of age and mystery grew—until, passing the lowest levels and entering the subterranean structure of the shadowed royal court, the tower stretched ever further downward. In these underground floors, all traces of anything “modern” vanished completely, replaced only by bizarre magical constructs of unknown origin, tirelessly operating in the depths, guarding things so ancient they should no longer be spoken of.
Descending floor after floor, the atmosphere grew heavier until reaching a vast underground hall—though “hall” was hardly the right word. This space resembled a massive natural cavern, its primitive stone vault and rocky walls enclosing the subterranean void. Yet, many enormous, archaic pillars with clear signs of human craftsmanship supported fragile parts of the cave’s structure. Between the rocky layers of the vault, one could glimpse stone slabs forming an artificial roof, seemingly fused with the rock itself, deeply embedded in the cavern’s ceiling. These slabs appeared to be the floor of the level above, or part of some foundational structure.
Stalactites hung from the vault, moisture condensed between the rocks, and cold droplets fell, dripping onto a layer of mirror-like surface below—ripples spreading across the solid mirror.
Nearly half of the cavern floor was covered by this mirror-like expanse: a pitch-black, perfectly smooth plane, abruptly “inlaid” among the natural stone. Though flawlessly flat and polished, it was far from calm at this moment. Some hidden force stirred beneath the dark glass, causing occasional ripples and strange bulges. Unseen beams of light swept across the surface, and in the shifting reflections at the edges, pale faces flickered faintly.
One such face belonged to a man who stepped back slightly. Clad in a black mage’s robe, he held a long wooden staff topped with a faint magical glow—so dim it theoretically couldn’t illuminate even two meters around him. Yet in this eerie cavern, even that faint light revealed every detail, leaving no corner hidden from sight.
Around this black-robed mage stood many others dressed similarly, each staff’s tip glowing with the same weak light. Under these dim glimmers, the mages exchanged pale, tense looks until one finally broke the silence.
“This has lasted longer than any previous record… including the last time, this is the sixth fluctuation.”
“The shadows crossing over are more numerous than ever,” another mage whispered, “and seem harder to communicate with than before…”
“They’re restless, as if their minds have awakened from slumber. This is not a good sign,” the first mage shook his head, frowning. “Has anyone sent word to the upper levels?”
“Guards have already been dispatched to inform Prince Nash,” a female mage said in a low voice. “He should arrive soon…”
“I’m here.”
Before her words finished, Prince Nash Nart’s voice echoed out of nowhere. At the same moment, a swirling plume of smoke erupted in the cavern—the prince’s figure materializing as if falling through the layers of the dim court and the overlapping magical barriers, descending like a shadow plunging into the abyss. His form coalesced midair, weightless, drifting toward the edge of the mirror surface, joining the gathered guards.
As Prince Nash landed, the mirror at the cavern’s center suddenly stirred again. Ripples erupted across the surface, which, though solid moments before, now writhed like viscous liquid. Along with this chilling movement came low, indistinct murmurs—like half-remembered dreams—echoing throughout the space.
In the next instant, shapes began to form from the quivering mirror. They rose swiftly, reshaping with invisible energies into hollow “human” forms. These shadowy figures were draped in what looked like strips of rune-inscribed cloth, their formless black smoke bodies bound into rough limbs by the fabric. These uninvited guests from “the other side” whispered and growled, staggering out of the mirror toward the nearest guards.
But the guards were ready. At Prince Nash’s command, beams of shadowy fire shot from the tips of their staffs, piercing the shadow intruders without resistance. The rune cloths silently ignited and burned away, the black smoke within neutralized and dispersed. Within seconds, the shadows dissolved back into energy and darkness, sinking beneath the mirror’s surface.
Everything happened in a flash, executed by the guards’ near-instinctive muscle memory. Only after all the intruders were banished did the black-robed mages finally exhale, some exchanging glances, others instinctively turning their gaze to the black mirror. Prince Nash’s eyes followed, scanning every subtle shift on its surface.
Then, a flicker of silver light and a vague silhouette flashed beneath the mirror’s surface—so blurred it was unrecognizable, yet it evoked the chilling impression of a cold, watchful gaze.
Prince Nash’s face changed instantly. He stepped back sharply and hissed urgently, “Extinguish all light sources! Start timing!”
In the next moment, every light in the cavern vanished—not only the faint glows atop the mages’ staffs but also the runes etched into the ancient stone slabs overhead and the bioluminescent moss clinging to damp corners. The mages’ lights were deliberately snuffed out, but the other sources seemed swallowed by an invisible force. The entire cavern plunged into absolute darkness.
In the pitch black, hearts pounded loudly. Faintly, the sound of subtle friction came from some corner, followed by footsteps breaking the silence—someone had left their post, groping through the ranks of comrades. After a while, the cavern fell silent again. A low voice broke the stillness with a long breath: “It’s safe. Relight your staffs.”
No response. No light.
Moments later, sharp cries pierced the darkness. Amid agonized shouts, a struggling guard yelled, “Quick, light your staffs! Something’s got me! I’m—”
Only silence and darkness answered.
The strange sounds faded once more. Prince Nash’s voice cut through the void: “Time’s up. Light your staffs.”
Still, no reply. No glow. Only faint, drawn-out breaths, as if muffled behind thick curtains, filled the space. The tension was palpable, but no one sounded panicked.
After about ten seconds, a faint glimmer appeared.
One mage guard lit his staff, followed by the others. The cavern’s dim lights returned, and Prince Nash’s figure reemerged in their glow. His eyes swept over the pale faces, counting.
“One is missing,” he said quietly.
The guards immediately began confirming among themselves. After a brief roll call, all eyes fixed on an empty spot at the front of the formation—once occupied, now vacant.
The black-robed mages stared tensely at the empty space. Then, a faint flicker of light sparked there, hovering about a person’s height, wavering. It occasionally illuminated a blurry silhouette, as if an invisible mage stood there, struggling alone in his own darkness to relight his staff, to restore his presence in the real world. He tried again and again, but the light grew weaker, the shadowy outline thinner and more transparent.
One mage whispered softly, unable to hold back: “Come back… return to this world… don’t give up… come back…”
The last flicker vanished, never to return.
A curse muttered indistinctly among the guards.
“He’s gone,” Prince Nash’s gaze lingered on the spot where the light died. After several seconds of silence, he spoke in a low voice, “May this honorable guard find peace on the other side of darkness.”
The guards bowed their heads solemnly and echoed, “May he find peace on the other side of darkness…”
“Notify his family immediately. Send his spare uniform and staff for the funeral… There must be something to bury,” Prince Nash said softly. “His family will receive generous compensation. Everyone will be taken care of.”
The guard captain bowed deeply. “Yes, my lord.”
Prince Nash nodded and turned his gaze back to the mirror at the cavern’s center. The terrifying black glass had settled completely, as if all the strange events had been a shared dream. He was even certain that if he stepped onto the mirror now, walking freely across its surface, nothing would happen.
“The unrest has ended,” the ‘King of Mages’ sighed softly, “but this barrier is no longer as stable as before.”
“This shift must be connected to the recent events,” the leader of the guards couldn’t help but say. “Gods have been falling or vanishing one after another. Talrond, which had been dormant for a million years, suddenly broke free from its chains. The mortal realms are undergoing unprecedented upheaval. Every mind has lost its former order and stability. Restless, turbulent thoughts are stirring ripples across the Deep Sea—ripples larger than any before, destined to spread throughout the entire abyss… and inevitably disturb the dream of the Sleeper.”
As he spoke, the leader turned his head, his eyes tense and wary as they fixed on the vast, pitch-black mirror.
“What should we do to maintain His slumber?” another mage-guard asked, unable to hold back.
Prince Nash Nart regarded the black-robed mage quietly, then softly countered, “Why?”
The mage-guard hesitated, a bit confused. “We are the guardians of this dream…”
“We are only the gatekeepers of this threshold, ensuring evolution unfolds naturally. Whether this dream endures, awakens prematurely, or changes under certain conditions—that’s beyond our interference. And when it comes to changes that affect the entire world, the whole era—that’s even less our place to meddle,” Nash said calmly. “All of this is part of the natural course of history. The Violet is merely an observer.”
He shook his head gently.
“Don’t underestimate the power of this historical progression, and don’t let an inflated sense of duty blind you. We are nothing more than a band of sentinels at the gate.”
Transforming into a wisp of smoke, Nash Nart slipped once more through the labyrinth of floors and countless layers of protection, returning to a chamber high in the tower. Bright light flooded the room, dispelling the black shadows clinging to the Mage King’s form—those shadows evaporated in the glow with faint sizzling sounds.
Nash settled into a deep crimson high-backed chair, sitting quietly in thought. Time passed in this calm stillness until soft footsteps suddenly echoed behind him.
Not far from where he sat, an enormous oval mirror with an ornate pale-gold frame—tall enough to tower over a person—began to shimmer. Within its surface, a woman appeared, dressed in a white court gown, her beauty striking. She looked at Prince Nash and said, “You seem troubled. Have the guards suffered losses?”
“One experienced guard got lost at the boundary,” Nash shook his head, sighing. “Left nothing behind.”
“Why would that happen?” the woman in the mirror asked, surprised. “How could a seasoned guard lose their way at the boundary?”
“The mirror briefly lost control, and the boundary blurred. That guard resisted all temptations and deceptions, holding back the urge to light his staff in the darkness. But when the boundary restored, he failed to return to the light in time, and so couldn’t reenter our world.”
The woman fell silent, then after two seconds, sighed softly. “Such a pity.”
“…May he find peace on the other side of the darkness,” Nash said quietly.
“We all know there’s nothing on the other side of the darkness—only an utterly empty dream.”
“That is the ultimate peace.”
(End of chapter)