The Black Mirror Pools
Location: Abyss / Layer 7—Kearackinin
The Black Mirror Pools—aye, I’ve heard the chant about them since I was a hatchling, those tales whispered in the dark evenings to keep us humble and afraid. They say the pools once shimmered like polished obsidian, reflecting not the sky nor the swamp but the will of great Sess’innek himself. A shaman could kneel by their edge, peer into their depths, and see visions straight from the god-king’s mind. But now? Now they’re nothing but shadows of what they were, swallowed by the swamp’s paranoia, or twisted into traps for fools like me. Still, I had to find one. The Lizard Kings keep their secrets close these days, and if I wanted answers, I’d have to risk the pools myself.
The search was so much harder than I’d imagined. The mire fought me every step of the way—roots grabbing at my legs, mists thicker than Semuanya’s lies clouding my eyes. The quicksands pulled at my feet, as though mocking me for daring to tread where ancestors once walked with pride. And the whispering—by Sess’innek’s claws, the whispering! It came from everywhere and nowhere, soft voices curling around my ears like smoke: “Turn back,” they hissed. “You are not worthy.” But I pressed on. A shaman’s duty is to endure, even when the swamp itself conspires against you.
When I finally found what I thought was a pool, it was nothing like the stories. The water was black as pitch, yes, but it didn’t shimmer; it pulsed ominously, like something alive and waiting. The air around it was thick with a stench that made my soul itch. I knelt at its edge and stared into its depths, hoping for a glimpse of Sess’innek’s true will. Instead, I saw… things. Shadows moved beneath the surface, shapes that shouldn’t exist—twisted forms with too many limbs and eyes that burned with utter malice. And then the voices came again, louder this time: “You seek what is not yours to take.” My reflection rippled and changed until it wasn’t me anymore but something monstrous—a warning or a promise, I couldn’t tell.
I tried to pull away, but the pool wouldn’t let me go. The black water rose from the pool and up my body, as if to entomb me. It forced me to the ground, dragging me closer as visions flooded my mind: a khaasta who looked like me drowning in ichor, a lizard king consumed by their own ambition, Sess’innek himself sitting on his throne of bone and scale while shadowy beings gathered around him. It wasn’t communion—it was madness! In that moment, I understood why no one speaks of the pools anymore: they don’t show you Sess’innek’s will; they show you only destruction.
I escaped—barely—but not without scars. My mind feels… fractured now, as though a part of me is still trapped in that pool’s depths. The others won’t believe me when I tell them what I saw; they’ll say I’m barmy or cursed or both. Maybe they’re right. All I know is this: do not seek the Black Mirror Pools yourself. Whatever secrets they hold aren’t worth what they’ll take from you in return.
Editor’s Note: This account was acquired from a consultation with M’Lora the Nostalgic, a fortune teller of past and future lives. Her techniques are… questionable… and this chant should be taken with caution.
Source: Jon Winter-Holt