Prologue

Turquoise waters shimmered beneath the sun, distorting the refraction of the coral reef below. To the right, a colony of buoys floated, bobbing up and down to the flow of the current. Spray flew off the ends of the surfboard as a wind surfer ripped through an opening.

Standing at the top of the cliff, a girl watched him as he left a trail of white wash and joined the rest of the island’s wind surfers in this summer past time. In her right hand, she was holding onto the cone of a sweet chocolate ice cream.

“Lunch’s ready in twenty minutes, Waverly.”

Waverly drew the ice cream closer to her lips and licked the sides, tasting the sweetness. In the corner of her eye, a flash of black had flown past her. As she raised her head, she saw the sleeve of a black trench coat, the collar held fast by a silver button, engraved in her guild’s insignia. A hand was holding onto the corner of a napkin by the fingers, the nails long and painted in black.

“Thanks Bell,” Waverly said quietly, wiping away the chocolate that rolled down the sides of the cone. Suddenly, she felt a slight rush of heat dancing on her back. The grass rekindled to a bright green as the sun emerged from behind the clouds.

“By the way, how many bottles of juice did you put into the fridge last night?”

“Around two dozen I think. The shop that was closest to the hotel only had the small ones.”

“That’s fine. If we run out, we’ll just go buy more,” said Bellamy, placing a hand over the breast pocket that contained her wallet.

She smiled back at her, her only way of thanking her when her hands were covered with ice cream. Bellamy winked back and mustered a smile. She was about to walk back down when a voice nearby disturbed the peace.

“Mum! Mum! The grill’s on fire!”

“This is why we never let him behind the barbie,” said Bellamy, reaching for her sunglasses and putting them on. Waverly gave a slight chuckle and pulled the brim of her sun-hat up.

“I thought we had already established that,” Waverly replied.

Waverly followed Bellamy back down the cliff, readying herself to help dismiss little Milo of his cooking duties. Since she was wearing sandals, dust on the pathway crept into her toenails and covered her feet, making them rough and dry. The earth path soon became lost, replaced by lush grass. Neither of them were too worried about Milo, for he was only assisting their parents in cooking the poultry.

They slowed their pace once the giant palm tree at the center of the roundabout came into view, marking the center of the BBQ area. Several clouds of smoke rose from behind the rocky walls, woven with the smell of grilled beef and spices. Behind the sizzling grills, families and teenagers had gathered, tongs flipping the patties over and the clatter of forks and knives meeting plates. Their spot was within one of the row of walls on the outer parts of the area.

Waverly walked up to her mother. “Hey mum, what just happened? We heard Milo calling for help from all the way at the cliff top.”

Her mother tapped the tongs on the grill twice and hung it along with the other utensils, withdrawing from her cooking duties.

“You girls haven’t missed much. Milo got over excited when I was adding more fuel to the fire,” her mother replied.

Bellamy approached the picnic table and ruffled the brown hair of the little upstart who responded with a grin on his face, the representation of his childish ignorance.

“The coal is meant to be on fire, Milo,” explained Bellamy as though she just became Milo’s newest pre-school teacher. “It’s how our food gets cooked.”

“But Bell! The fire was big! You should have seen it!”

Waverly exchanged a look with Bellamy which was then passed down to the ever merry Milo, prancing on the top of the picnic table.

“Want to play with me, Bella? I’m bored.”

“The name’s Bellamy,” she said with authority, reinforced by the pride of her achievements in her guild this year.

“Waverly,” her mother said, before addressing her in a motherly tone that immediately took her attention, “mind if you take over? I need to show the Flemings and the others to where we are. They might still think that we are at the hotel.”

“Ok, then.”

“I’ll help to set up the table,” offered Bellamy.

Discarding the apron and mittens onto the table, Mrs. Chrysalis inserted the keys in the slot at the back of the car and lifted the boot up. Cutlery, savory foods and cans of drinks, alcoholic, and non alcoholic in content were unloaded. When the boot was deserted of its goods, Waverly had various items pressed against her breast in one arm and her free hand clutching the handle of a picnic basket. Bellamy, who was bending over slightly due to the weight of the beer cans, carried a large chip packet by her teeth. Flowing down the back of her trench coat was the picnic blanket, worn over her shoulders like a cape that held no representation of her rank or status.

The keys jingled, clashing amongst the jumbled mess as Mrs. Chrysalis spun the ring around her fingers while walking to the door. She hopped into the red sports car and inserted the key into the ignition slot. The engine exploded to life as she twisted it in one swift motion.

“Good luck in taking care of Milo, you two," said Mrs. Chrysalis over the low rumbling of the engine.

“We’ll do our best, Mrs. Chrysalis,” said Bellamy. She raised her right hand in a salute.

“Bell, please. Just call me Christine. You don’t see me calling you Ms. Emeschajmer, aye?”

“I guess,” muttered Bellamy, embarrassed by how old she sounded with her formality.

“Buh-bye mum!” called Milo.

She put the car in reverse and let out the brakes, backing out of the parking lot.

“Bye, guys.”

“Bye, Mum,” said Waverly, waving back to her mother, smiling.

“See you,” said Bellamy.

Christine pressed on the accelerator and drove off, sounding the horn for another good-bye.

Chip packets, muffins and cakes were grouped onto the left side of the table, two liter bottles of soft drinks at the center and the eating utensils and plates on the right.

"Waverly! Aren't you going to help Bella set the table?" Milo yelled out at his sister as she was watching her mother on the road that tore between the ponds, leading for the entrance gates. The car entered a dense plantation of trees, concealing the mother from her daughter’s sight.

“Waverly.”

The uncertainty within her influenced Waverly to ignore her brother, who had been a part of her life and memories more than Bellamy was. Her mother’s errand could really be an excuse to have time away from her daughter. Uncertainty turned to jealousy as the image of her mother formed in her mind, handing morbles to the ice cream man, and buying the others some ice cream.

Don’t forget my ice cream, mum.

“Waverly! Help with the cooking.”

“Ow!”

Waverly’s ear drums felt as though they were about to burst, pierced by the outburst of Milo’s voice interrupting her thoughts for ice cream. She held her ears down as a way of suppressing the ringing in them, seconds after Milo had stopped, a huge grin on his face.

“W-What was that for?”

“Mummy told you to finish cooking. You better do it or I’ll tickle you again,” and he drew his fingers in and positioned his hands in front of Waverly’s exposed belly.

“Cheeky little thing,” she said and resumed where her mother had left off right after she drove her hands into the pair of mittens.

Bellamy had finished laying out the table as the last batch of meat was sizzling away on the grill. She looked at Waverly, equipped with only the tongs as she mechanically turned over a row of meat. Her hair was a silky blue, flowing over her back like a waterfall and smelt of sweet fragrances.

Taking advantage of the situation, and of Christine’s absence, she walked to her black handbag that was resting at the base of a giant palm tree, undoing the buckles and pulled out a blue box, allowing the coldness that emitted from within to sink into her hands.

When Bellamy had snuck in behind Waverly, a frosty chill wrapped around her, cooling down the sweat that was on her body and providing a winter like sanctuary.

“Don’t you seem bored, Waverly.”

“No, I’m fine, Bell. Just a bit tired.”

“Tired you may be. Bored. Definitely.”

Bellamy’s hands felt numb, and she shuffled the box from her left hand to the right, and back.

“In one of my hands, I have something. Pick the right one and it is yours. Pick the wrong one and- “

“Is it ice cream, Bell?” Waverly said with delight beaming in her smile.

“No. Something better than ice cream, I promise you. Anyways, if you miss, then it is mine.”

“Better than ice cream, you say?” Waverly picked up two patties with the tongs and dropped them off on a clean plate. She placed the tongs to the side and spun around.

“I’ll pick the right hand, then,” Waverly said coolly.

“Heh, you always pick the right.”

Bellamy swung her right arm to the front, presenting the box before Waverly.

“What is it?”

“Open it.”

“Are you sure, Bell?” Waverly asked in respect of Bellamy. She didn’t want her being upset or offended if the slightest bit of disappointment was shown on her face.

“Yes, Waverly. I mean, think about it, girl. It feels lonely opening a present by yourself and there’s no one to share your happiness with. You’ll like it, trust me.”

Putting the possibilities of getting a valueless present aside, she decided to trust Bellamy, and opened the box. Waverly’s heart pulsated faster with joy when she saw a pair of silver frames and blue lenses.

“Icisorian glasses.”

“Latest Icisorian technology. Almost everyone in Crystrafree is wearing them. Try them on.”

Crystrafree was the capital city of Icisoria, where magic and mirrortech were controlled to designate a technologically advanced settlement within the region's cold climate and occasional snow storms. This composition of magic and science was also responsible for the latest technologies that were in circulation in the market, such as the glasses in Waverly's hands.

She fingered for the handles, carefully drawing them apart and putting them on. She closed her eyes for a brief moment as the air around her had cooled down. As a magician of water, her experiences in handling aqueous solutions at below freezing temperatures had allowed her to become accustomed to the cold.

However, guilt spread through her arms as her view through the lens was a calm, crystal blue. The glasses were more efficient than she had hoped for.

“Bell. What made you want to buy this?”

She threw her arms around Bellamy, embracing her as tightly as she could.

“Waverly, you deserve it. You are an Academic Cup nominee after all. Not many work as hard as you do.”

Waverly buried her face into Bellamy’s coat. Being nominated and winning the Mage of Water cup for academic excellence in the intermediate level were two different things. Though her name was mentioned, it was the cup recipient that received the praise of a thousand clapping hands.

“I’m sorry,” Waverly said, still embracing to Bellamy. “I should’ve given you something and instead I –I haven’t. I should’ve.”

“Waverly. When I see a mirror, it shows only my appearance, my so called youth. How would you ever know exactly what I desire?”

“Bell…I,” but was silenced as Bellamy kissed her gently on the cheek.

A few minutes later, their spatulas were transferring the sausages to the plates. Bellamy grabbed the bucket that was beside the grill and went for the nearest tap. She turned the knob and a stream of water poured out from the opening, filling the bucket at a constant rate. She carried it back, after the time she had by herself. The fire was extinguished, and the grill sizzled as great billows of stream rose into the air.

Bellamy had found herself sitting next to Waverly at the lunch table. The Flemings sat on the other end, alongside Waverly’s parents. Discussions started off involving the girls as they were asked on how their life was, what universities they were going to when they graduate from their respective guilds, and what career paths that they were following. Waverly stopped as Mr Fleming’s reasons and morals in his profession had intertwined hers as to why she wanted to become a Magician of Water. He carried on the conversation and was later recognized by the girls as ‘Master Builder Fleming.’

“Not only do I design the houses, but I build them! With my hammer and saw! I am your leading man in Freyren!” he declared and thundered his fist on his chest.

“And what about you Mrs. Fleming?” the girls asked in unison.

“Cookies,” said Mrs Fleming, finishing the juice in her glass. “Full time accountant of time in the Threshold of Mirror continents.”

The talk lasted as they were dining, the chips as the entree and the savory and meat the main course. The Fleming’s two children, Aidan and Penelope retreated back to their base nearby, returning for seconds and thirds. Leftovers for the seagulls were what remained of their lunch.

The talk turned to politics in the northern hemisphere. Waverly was by herself, her chin resting on her arms. She closed her eyes and cried out the name of the island in her mind. When she reopened them, she was still there. Her reflection on the glass container pouted on the table, just like she was. It was the last day of her vacation, before returning to the confusion of what was right and wrong that took place in the concrete jungle where she lived.

“My reflection is eternal,” she reminded herself, fearing that she might never return to this place.

“Mum,” she cried out and shook her mother by the arm.

Christine had finished her sentence and her laughter died off as she saw her daughter's expression.

“Yes?”

“Mum, did you remember to buy me ice cream?”

“Oh! Sorry love. Forgot to tell you earlier. Here are the keys. Open the front left door and the cooler should be on the seat.”

She helped herself to the cooler, and was licking the ice cream as she walked down the path to the beach.

“Hey Bell, want one?” Waverly asked, waving it in front of her dark eyes.

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