Mirror Mirror

Bedraggled Spellbook: A mysterious spellbook, from Agatha's Magical Delivery Service.

Edna: ...

Candle: The soul ignites the candle. A memory that is not yours seeps into your thoughts. Distrustful eyes fall upon you. Scorn and derision from every corner. The priests shake their head at you. Only one face smiles back beneath a mask of bone.

Candle: No flame seems to touch this wick, as though it burns from something else.

Candle: The soul ignites the candle. A memory that is not yours seeps into your thoughts. You pour your rage into the heavens, corrupting the veil a god placed there to protect. Dark magic turns clouds into weapons, blasting settlements with spears of lightning. You laugh, a cold and bitter sound, at the nightmare you've wrought.

Candle: No flame seems to touch this wick, as though it burns from something else.

Candle: The soul ignites the candle. A memory that is not yours seeps into your thoughts. Your fingers are warm, though his body grows colder with each second. There is no breath in his lungs and once bright eyes are cold and empty. A sorrow like no other grasps icy fingers around your heart and mercy dies to its frigid touch.

Candle: No flame seems to touch this wick, as though it burns from something else.

Candle: The soul ignites the candle. A memory that is not yours seeps into your thoughts. A shared meal, tougher than it should be. A monster avoided through quick wit and guile. A silent conversation worth more than a thousand words.

Candle: No flame seems to touch this wick, as though it burns from something else.

Edna: ...

Candle: The soul ignites the candle. A memory that is not yours seeps into your thoughts. You've grown to like the antipoison's taste, a pick-me-up first thing in the morning. The cave is damp, but oddly comforting. The bodies of seven garou keep you warm as they burn. You wonder if you have a future in potions.

Candle: No flame seems to touch this wick, as though it burns from something else.

Mirror: Wait! A person? An actual, real-life person and not some shambling nightmare picking rubbish out of its teeth? Hello! Hello! Oh, also, help?

Mirror: Hello?

Candle: The soul ignites the candle. A memory that is not yours seeps into your thoughts. You stare into the mirror, guilt finally quelling the rage that always burns in your chest. The nightmare all around you, your fault, but who will punish you, if not yourself?

Candle: No flame seems to touch this wick, as though it burns from something else.

Mirror: A... horrible necromancer trapped me in this mirror decades ago. Punishment for all my mistakes. I'm not saying I didn't deserve it, but it's been... well, an eternity, and I think I've served my time.

Bedraggled Spellbook: You have no room in your inventory for this book. You'll need to make some space and come back for it later.

Mirror: She even gave me the ritual to release myself to...err... taunt me, yes, taunt me. It's quite simple to resolve, really, it shouldn't take long.

Edna: A mote of light runs between yourself and the skeleton and she turns her skull to face you and opens her arms out wide, expectantly.

Mirror: I just need you to grab a few things. Dragon blood, which should be plentiful. A copy of the spell from my old shop in Emberwood's windmill, and some spectral silver thread - my seamstress, Edna, can help you there.

Edna: The mistress needssss... bring me a bar of silver, a spool of fine thread, a bottle of sacred oil and six soul fragments - and I shall weave what she needsssss.

Mirror: I'll need you to rekindle my memories, quite literally.

Mirror: I just need you to grab a few things, so I can get myself out of this mirror.

Edna: A mote of light runs between yourself and the skeleton and she turns her skull to face you and opens her arms out wide, expectantly.

Mirror: When one lives as long as I have, one's memories get a little overcrowded and sometimes you just need to put them somewhere for safekeeping. I've left a few of mine as "memorial candles" in each region I've visited.

Mirror: I need dragon blood. It's the blood of the enemy and that always has mystical significance. I read about it in a book once.

Edna: The skeleton returns to rest, leaving you without your thread.

Edna: ...

Mirror: For each candle you light, you'll rekindle a memory that will help me reconnect myself to this world and pull myself back through. I'll give you a spark to reignite them, just a small piece of my soul, so the candles will ignite when you find them.

Mirror: *A small greenish flame passes from the mirror and into the palm of your hand. It feels full of sorrow, rage and boundless grief.*

Mirror: Spectral silver thread will help me stitch the mirror back together. My seamstress, Edna, can help you there. You can find her little cottage in the centre of Dragon's Run. She's...err... quite thin these days.

Mirror: Great, that's all the bits I need! Thank you so much... I'll take those off your hands for now. Just press them to the glass. It's weird, I know, but it won't hurt.

Mirror: Oh, that you already have!

Edna: You have no room to take thisss thread. Return to me when space is made among your belongings.

Edna: The skeleton performs a series of gestures, too quick and strange for your eyes to follow. Then she hands you a spool of spectral silver thread. The skeleton returns to rest.

Mirror: Finally I need a copy of the spell itself. Using morse code and a very clever pigeon, I managed to order a copy from Agatha's mail-order magic -- but it got sent back to my shop, in my windmill in Emberwood village.

Mirror: Great, that's all the bits I need! Thank you so much... I'll take those off your hands for now. Just press them to the glass. It's weird, I know, but it won't hurt.

Mirror: Brilliant stuff! I can get the spell going now. I should be out of here in... what... a week or so.

Mirror: Wonderful, I can start getting the ritual ready on my end. I just need something to tether myself back to your side of reality. I'll need you to rekindle my memories, quite literally.

Mirror: Well, there's nothing I can do until you give me the ingredients. Don't worry, I'll be right here until you change your mind... right...here...

Mirror: ...

Mirror: When one lives as long as I have, one's memories get a little overcrowded and sometimes you just need to put them somewhere for safekeeping. I've left a few of mine as "memorial candles" in each region I've visited.

Mirror: Well, there's nothing I can do until you give me the ingredients. Don't worry, I'll be right here until you change your mind... right...here...

Mirror: Wonderful, I can start getting the ritual ready on my end. I just need something to tether myself back to your side of reality. I'll need you to rekindle my memories, quite literally.

Mirror: What? You don't need to stick around for that, I'm good now. I can stitch this mirror back together and then escape this reflective prison. You've done everything I need.

Mirror: For each candle you light, you'll rekindle a memory that will help me reconnect myself to this world and pull myself back through. I'll give you a spark to reignite them, just a small piece of my soul, so the candles will ignite when you find them.

Mirror: When one lives as long as I have, one's memories get a little overcrowded and sometimes you just need to put them somewhere for safekeeping. I've left a few of mine as "memorial candles" in each region I've visited.

Mirror: Here, take this as a thank-you. Who knows, we might see each other on the other side sometime. Your side, I mean, not this one... That wasn't a threat, we're cool.

Mirror: For each candle you light, you'll rekindle a memory that will help me reconnect myself to this world and pull myself back through. I'll give you a spark to reignite them, just a small piece of my soul, so the candles will ignite when you find them.

Mirror: Thanks for your help. It'll be so nice to escape this mirror realm nightmare prison. Don't worry, I'm not going to go on some sinister evil rampage or anything. Honest.

Mirror: I've got a little something to thank you for your efforts so far, but you seem a bit overburdened. I'll hold on to it til your hands are a bit freer.