[Solo] Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall
Posted: 26 Apr 2026, 14:45
Tristan Verona
2026/04/17
Two hours had passed by in the blink of an eye. Tristan was still in the same place, racking his brain as to what he should do next. He had tried spell after spell with the intent of finding out the key to the secret eluding him. A few days ago, as he was exploring the second floor of the vast castle, the curious boy had seen a pair of 5th years from Mercator disappear into a large mirror.
The Modron student wouldn’t have thought much of the mirror if he hadn’t witnessed this magical interaction. It was situated, just off the path to House Mercator, in an unremarkable hallway and flanked by suits of armour on both sides. A few tempting locked chests were set against the walls. Apart from that, there was really nothing of note to garner interest.
However, ever since the disappearance act, Tristan had been plagued with the thoughts of discoveries just out of reach.
Why can’t I get this to work?! Tristan’s reflection taunted him in the mirror as he cast again and again. Nothing but mystery and failure.
After another unfruitful attempt, his back slid against the wall on the opposite side of the mirror, and he let out a loud sigh. The light coming in from the windows was slowly dimming as the sun started to set. Penwick was filled with secrets, and he knew he couldn’t find them all, but now that he had seen this one, he couldn’t just ignore it.
Maybe he could ask one of the seniors… No, that would defeat the purpose. Tristan Verona couldn’t use any shortcuts. He would beat the odds and prove himself to everyone. Unfortunately, there hadn’t really been proving lately. This evening wasn’t really any different from others.
As shadows began to chase away golden hour, a groan escaped his lips. Things were harder than he had expected here. He had spent hours studying what was asked and more. Tristan was actually doing pretty well, all things considered. But pretty good was too far from exceptional. Good isn’t remembered.
“When he reached the entrance of the cavern, he pronounced the words, "Open, Sesame!" The door immediately opened, and, when he was in, closed upon him.” If only things were as simple as his mother’s fairytales.
Humouring himself, he lifted his wand and waved it as he had done many times before.
“Open Sesame”
Without warning, magic coursed through the wooden fibers of his wand and exited the tip violently. It flew wildly in the hallway, grazing the helmets of the metallic knights, before hitting one of the nearby chests. The lock keeping the lid secure was blasted away as the chest flew open.
Tristan’s eyes widened in surprise, followed by terror. The hallway’s candles lit up as if on cue.
“That’s a spell?! WHY IS THAT A SPELL?!”
The startled boy didn’t even have time to fully take in the mess that he had caused. Another sound immediately followed the concussive blast, a much higher-pitched sound. The noise of metal sliding on metal resonated in the hall. He gave a nervous glance at the steel guardians only to notice that the helmets that were once pointed forward were presently fully pointed in the direction of the explosion. Nervousness was replaced by abject fear as Tristan saw the suit of armour’s hand move in the direction of a sheathed sword by its side.
In a wave of panic, he struggled to his feet and cried out.
“REPARO!”
Splinters and shards scattered around the room all started moving in unison. They fused back to their previous state as they had been mere moments ago. There was no further movement from the hollow guards. Tristan let out a sigh, and slowly his heart stopped beating so hard.
The only clues remaining from the recent disaster were a metal glove on the hilt of an expectant blade and a small piece of parchment that had seemingly escaped the confines of the locked chest in the turmoil. On the paper was inscribed a small note in cursive black ink: If you are looking for hidden treasure, maybe you should start looking in less obvious places. The writing was followed by the symbol of a bird in flight, embossed into the paper.
Tristan’s eyes couldn’t have rolled back more even if he had tried. Mercator students.
The boy was exhausted, annoyed, and discouraged. This evening had been a frustrating addition to the collection of fruitless endeavours. He crumpled up the piece of parchment, threw it to the side, and decided to try one last time before heading back to his dorm. The anger inside him was bubbling up to the surface. He gripped his wand tight and swerved back towards the mirror.
“You think you can stop me? Who do you think I am?
The answer to his question came from an unexpected place as he lifted his eyes back to its intended target. His stomach dropped. Pain could be seen in his eyes, but there was no way for him to know. Under the glow of candlelight, there was no reflection looking back at him. Everything in the room was the same: the suits of armour, the chests. Everything else was reflected in the mirror except for the young Verona.
The wand trembled a bit as the arm holding it came back down.
That evening, a young boy was seen slowly walking through the Subterranium with his head down by a few Modron students preparing for curfew. No one recognized him or paid attention to him.
The Modron student wouldn’t have thought much of the mirror if he hadn’t witnessed this magical interaction. It was situated, just off the path to House Mercator, in an unremarkable hallway and flanked by suits of armour on both sides. A few tempting locked chests were set against the walls. Apart from that, there was really nothing of note to garner interest.
However, ever since the disappearance act, Tristan had been plagued with the thoughts of discoveries just out of reach.
Why can’t I get this to work?! Tristan’s reflection taunted him in the mirror as he cast again and again. Nothing but mystery and failure.
After another unfruitful attempt, his back slid against the wall on the opposite side of the mirror, and he let out a loud sigh. The light coming in from the windows was slowly dimming as the sun started to set. Penwick was filled with secrets, and he knew he couldn’t find them all, but now that he had seen this one, he couldn’t just ignore it.
Maybe he could ask one of the seniors… No, that would defeat the purpose. Tristan Verona couldn’t use any shortcuts. He would beat the odds and prove himself to everyone. Unfortunately, there hadn’t really been proving lately. This evening wasn’t really any different from others.
As shadows began to chase away golden hour, a groan escaped his lips. Things were harder than he had expected here. He had spent hours studying what was asked and more. Tristan was actually doing pretty well, all things considered. But pretty good was too far from exceptional. Good isn’t remembered.
“When he reached the entrance of the cavern, he pronounced the words, "Open, Sesame!" The door immediately opened, and, when he was in, closed upon him.” If only things were as simple as his mother’s fairytales.
Humouring himself, he lifted his wand and waved it as he had done many times before.
“Open Sesame”
Without warning, magic coursed through the wooden fibers of his wand and exited the tip violently. It flew wildly in the hallway, grazing the helmets of the metallic knights, before hitting one of the nearby chests. The lock keeping the lid secure was blasted away as the chest flew open.
Tristan’s eyes widened in surprise, followed by terror. The hallway’s candles lit up as if on cue.
“That’s a spell?! WHY IS THAT A SPELL?!”
The startled boy didn’t even have time to fully take in the mess that he had caused. Another sound immediately followed the concussive blast, a much higher-pitched sound. The noise of metal sliding on metal resonated in the hall. He gave a nervous glance at the steel guardians only to notice that the helmets that were once pointed forward were presently fully pointed in the direction of the explosion. Nervousness was replaced by abject fear as Tristan saw the suit of armour’s hand move in the direction of a sheathed sword by its side.
In a wave of panic, he struggled to his feet and cried out.
“REPARO!”
Splinters and shards scattered around the room all started moving in unison. They fused back to their previous state as they had been mere moments ago. There was no further movement from the hollow guards. Tristan let out a sigh, and slowly his heart stopped beating so hard.
The only clues remaining from the recent disaster were a metal glove on the hilt of an expectant blade and a small piece of parchment that had seemingly escaped the confines of the locked chest in the turmoil. On the paper was inscribed a small note in cursive black ink: If you are looking for hidden treasure, maybe you should start looking in less obvious places. The writing was followed by the symbol of a bird in flight, embossed into the paper.
Tristan’s eyes couldn’t have rolled back more even if he had tried. Mercator students.
The boy was exhausted, annoyed, and discouraged. This evening had been a frustrating addition to the collection of fruitless endeavours. He crumpled up the piece of parchment, threw it to the side, and decided to try one last time before heading back to his dorm. The anger inside him was bubbling up to the surface. He gripped his wand tight and swerved back towards the mirror.
“You think you can stop me? Who do you think I am?
The answer to his question came from an unexpected place as he lifted his eyes back to its intended target. His stomach dropped. Pain could be seen in his eyes, but there was no way for him to know. Under the glow of candlelight, there was no reflection looking back at him. Everything in the room was the same: the suits of armour, the chests. Everything else was reflected in the mirror except for the young Verona.
The wand trembled a bit as the arm holding it came back down.
That evening, a young boy was seen slowly walking through the Subterranium with his head down by a few Modron students preparing for curfew. No one recognized him or paid attention to him.