You awake as all around you the world seems wrong. Trapped inside a room barren of anything but a simple bed, and a wall sized mirror. It stands there, ethereal and shimmering, almost begging for you to peer inside and see what lies beyond the looking glass.
So you summon your courage, and peer inside. For a single moment, you see your reflection. The bags under your eyes, the worry etched upon your far too young face, the stress aging your features far beyond their age but underneath them all is still the boy in way over his head. But as the surface shimmers and changes, it soon fades into an all too familiar scene.
The Odyssey Pool, on the day you tried to fix your broken mind and seemingly came out whole. You watch yourself dip beneath the water, its green waves bubbling and sparking with ancient energy until all at once, they go still. For what seems like eternity, nothing happens until smoke begins to billow, the water drains and from beneath, a doorway opens and a figure emerges.
But that’s where this tale changes.
For no bright figure of Hope emerges. No beacon of courage comes forth holding aloft Excalibur high. No, what emerges from those waters is something much darker.
Stronger, taller, much more physically imposing and darkness that seems to envelop him from head to toe, a thick black ichor of vengeance consuming the hero that once was. Even the Kingdomblade’s light has been extinguished as it radiates pure malevolence and rage.
The figure chuckles to itself before walking off into the distance, the mirror never showing you what he does but the screams…the ungodly echoing screams of terror that dig inside your brain like the shattering of glass. It is then you are begging to wake up, to free yourself from this nightmare.
And it is then he suddenly appears in front of you.
It is then you see your reflection.
Blood staining the darkness, the rough broken features almost looking wrong, as it mimics your movements for a moment before staring down, no mask to hide the truth. The dulled grey eyes not shining with youthful hope or false courage.
No, within them there is a purest clarity, an absolute resolve that resonates within you for a moment before he smiles and tries to pull himself through the mirror.
It is then you wake up, covered in sweat and terrified. You rush to the nearest glass and check your reflection. It’s always the same, always showing the boy staring back. But as you turn, even for a moment you swear you see those eyes once more.
And every nightmare you have he gets closer to escaping the mirror.
Part of you fears it. Part of you welcomes it. Part of you accepts it as the inevitable.
That one day you will be trapped in that mirror. The foolish boy clinging to hope staring back at the real James Jackson.
Not the hero they want but the savior they will deserve.