30 - The Mirror, the Frog, and the Owl
| Session 1 | Session 29 | Session 30 | ||
| ◀◀ | ◀ | ▲ | ▶ | ▶▶ |
| Ashira Brolin Frostbite | Ashira Frostbite | Ashira Frostbite |
and an unfriendly surprise
The Mirror of Mist
Still a few lion doors remained unexplored. The party turned to one on the second floor, hidden in the castle’s back halls. Within lay a chamber of pale stone, the floor shrouded in a cold, spectral mist that curled around their boots and wings. At the far wall hung a single mirror, tall and glimmering.
Zephyr could not resist. Wings spread, he drifted toward the mirror, peering into its glass. Reckless Brolin followed at once, plunging into the mist without hesitation. Soon the others stepped forward too, one after another, curiosity outweighing caution.
All save Frostbite. He stayed at the door, arms crossed, eyes narrowing as the others whispered and pointed.
Inside the mirror they saw strange objects:
A cloak,
Two different wands,
A small violin,
An orb.
Ashira stiffened, recognition flashing in her eyes. "These are the same… the things from the hag’s dollhouse. They carry what we lost."
Then, bizarrely, a frog in a cape appeared on a chest within the reflection, blinking at them like some fey jester.
Frostbite, intrigued despite himself, stepped forward to look. For him, the vision shifted. Not trinkets. Not toys. But home - his woodlands stretched across the glass. He growled low in his throat and stepped forward.
Only to slam nose-first into the mirror’s surface.
The vision shattered, replaced with another: the lake of stone pillars, the portal back home. Was that the true way? Should he have stayed behind to find it alone? Or was he right to remain with the others, helping them reclaim their stolen skills?
Frostbite turned away, jaw tight. "Useful visions. But not for now."
The Music and the Glass Dancers
The next lion door lay northeast, leading to a balcony that overlooked the castle’s dining room below. A harpsichord gleamed in the corner, keys waiting.
Zephyr, ever unable to resist, began a simple tune. As the notes drifted, Ashira slipped through the northern door into a chamber of breathtaking beauty: a polished marble floor, walls of stained glass butterflies, and a dais where a glass statue of a woman stood - Zybilna’s likeness, frozen mid-poise.
All around, other glass figures began to dance in time with Zephyr’s song.
Brolin strode forward, fascinated, but when Zephyr shifted the tune to demonstrate the effect to Maeve, one of the dancers crashed into him. Shards flew. Brolin staggered back, gasping - not just from physical pain, but something deeper, a wound to spirit.
Zephyr stopped at once, but Brolin needed air. Frostbite snorted, claws drumming against his club. "Enough games. This place is useless. We move on."
The Frog in the Tower
With all stag and lion doors behind them, only one place remained: the west tower’s top chamber, that Zephyr had glimpsed through tangled overgrowth.
The climb was easy - thick vines serving as handholds. Frostbite scaled first, hauling himself up with brute strength. Zephyr fluttered up beside him, Ashira close behind. Once inside, the floor slanted, beams broken, everything crooked with decay. On one side sat a chest - and perched upon it, the frog in a cape from the mirror.
Frostbite tossed down a rope, pulling Maeve up after him.
The frog croaked and bowed. "I am Iggrik." At first, he offered little, but Ashira’s coaxing drew him to open the chest, revealing a pair of winged boots. She swapped them for her own with gleeful rationalization. Maeve, as ever, pressed with silken words, unraveling Iggrik’s guarded tongue.
Frostbite ignored the chatter, pacing toward the window. Yet his ears twitched, catching fragments:
That Iggwilv was Zybilna’s former name, shed like a serpent’s skin.
That she had once been Natasha, adopted child of Baba Yaga.
That the self she had left behind was far worse.
Frostbite allowed himself a grudging thought: Good work, Maeve.
But it was when Iggrik spoke of the Jabberwock that Frostbite’s attention snapped back. The frog trembled at its name, warning that only with aid could it be defeated. Aid, in the form of the great owl Bloodybeak, imprisoned in the aviary.
At last - something Frostbite could sink his teeth into. "Then we free it."
The Owl and the Charm
Iggrik warned them: before waking the owl, the aviary gate must be opened with the word "cansus."
They descended, relaying their news to the rest of the party, and made their way to the aviary’s great doors. Someone called the word, but nothing stirred. So Dhanell crept past the slumbering bird to the gate itself. There, the word worked: the iron lattice creaked open to the wild skies.
Frostbite prepared his ritual of friendship, magic curling about his claws. When Ashira at last touched the Alicorn to the owl, thawing it from its frozen state, the great creature stirred. Bloodybeak’s golden eyes fixed on Frostbite. The bond took hold.
For nine precious minutes, Frostbite spoke with him, the ritual allowing true conversation. They spoke of flight, of freedom, of the Jabberwock. The owl, mighty and solemn, agreed. "I will destroy it," he promised. With a sweep of vast wings, he launched into the air, soaring out the gate into the Prismere sky.
For once, Frostbite felt a measure of triumph. He had made a friend.
The Enemy Revealed
The group, emboldened, moved toward the cauldron chamber - where Zybilna still waited. At the threshold, Ashira pressed her ear to the door and hissed for silence. Voices.
Before caution could hold him, Zephyr cupped his hands and shouted: "Wake, Jabberwock! Wake!"
The castle shook with a roar, answered by the screech of Bloodybeak. The two titans would clash in the distance. Another roar split the air, then wingbeats fading. The Jabberwock had been lured away.
The companions charged into the chamber.
And there, awaiting them, stood their foes at last:
Kelek, staff gripped, eyes sharp with malice.
Warduke, his armor like a nightmare forged in steel.
Zargash, dark cleric, muttering blasphemies.
And worst of all, the hag they knew too well - Skabatha, her twisted grin spreading like rot.
A dreaded battle was upon them.
| Session 1 | Session 29 | Session 30 | ||
| ◀◀ | ◀ | ▲ | ▶ | ▶▶ |
| Ashira Brolin Frostbite | Ashira Frostbite | Ashira Frostbite |
Updated on: 06:28
