Chapter No 2 The Magical Prince from the Mirror
2409 Words
Ahhhhhhh!”
Kylie’s scream tore through the room.
The man screamed too.
“Ahhh!”
They stared at each other—both frozen, both horrified.
“Who—who are you?” Kylie shouted, backing away until her calves hit the edge of the bed. “What are you doing in my room? And why on earth are you in my bed?”
Her heart was hammering so loudly she could hear it in her ears. Her parents were at work. Andy was at school. She was completely alone.
The man looked around wildly, his dark blue eyes wide with disbelief.
“I… I came out?” he whispered, staring at his own hands as if they didn’t belong to him.
“What?” Kylie snapped. “What are you talking about?”
“I came out—oh my God,” he shouted suddenly, leaping off the bed. “I am out! I came out!”
He laughed, spinning around the room like a madman. “I came out! I came out! But—where am I?”
Kylie watched him like he’d completely lost his mind. “Excuse me?” she said sharply. “Are you drunk? Or just insane? I’m asking what you’re doing on my planet and in my bed!”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he stopped in front of her aunt’s old mirror.
He stared.
Then smiled.
“Remarkable,” he murmured. “I have not changed a bit.”
He leaned closer, brushing his fingers through his long hair. “Still handsome,” he added thoughtfully.
Kylie’s jaw dropped.
Then his expression shifted. Panic flashed across his face.
“Sparkles?” he called, suddenly frantic. “Sparkles, are you here? Sparkles!”
He bent down, peering under the bed. “Please tell me thou art free as well—”
“Oh, stop shouting,” came an annoyed voice. “You’re hurting my ears.”
The man froze.
“S—Sparkles?” he whispered.
“I am not Sparkles,” the voice replied. “My name is Julius.”
A black cat crawled out from under the bed and stretched lazily.
Kylie’s vision blurred.
Her chest tightened.
Her legs gave way.
Everything went dark.
“Lady? My lady?” the man said urgently, kneeling beside her. “Wake, please—thou art unwell.”
“Perhaps she’s never seen a talking cat before,” Julius said calmly.
“I have never seen one either,” the man muttered, folding his arms. “And yet here we are.”
“We’ll explain later,” Julius said. “For now, she needs rest.”
The man lifted Kylie carefully, as if she were made of glass, and laid her back on the bed.
She woke slowly.
Yawning, she stretched. “That was the weirdest dream ever,” she murmured. “A strange man… a talking cat…”
She smiled—until she saw the chair.
The man was sitting there, legs crossed, smiling politely at her.
Her breath hitched.
“Oh no,” she whispered. “It was real?”
“Unfortunately,” the cat said cheerfully, “yes.”
Kylie shot up. “You!” she pointed at the man. “Why are you in my room, you intruder?”
“Intruder?” he snapped, standing abruptly. “I have never been so insulted in my entire existence!”
“Why do you talk like you’re some arrogant king?” she shot back.
He turned away dramatically, folding his arms. “I loathe this age,” he muttered. “Sparkles, explain.”
“My Prince,” Julius sighed, “my name is Julius. And we’ve been trapped inside that mirror for—”
“A year,” the man said firmly.
“A century,” Julius corrected, glancing at the calendar. “It says 4 April 2021.”
The man spun around. “Three hundred and ten years?” he gasped.
“Will someone please tell me what is happening?” Kylie demanded, mortified.
He straightened instantly, composed again.
“Oh—where are my manners?” He bowed deeply. “John Somerzex John Howard, Duke of Jaimesland.”
She stumbled back. “Why are you bowing at me?”
“In my time, it is respect,” he replied calmly.
“Your time?”
“I am from the sixteenth century,” he said quietly. “My mother placed me inside that mirror when my magic revealed itself. I do not know what became of her.”
Kylie stared. “…You’re telling me you lived in that mirror?”
“Yes, my lady. And I am speaking English.”
“Where are the cameras?” she muttered.
“What is a camera?”
“Listen,” she snapped. “Get out of my house or I’ll scream.”
“I speak the truth,” he said urgently. “Last night—you sought to end your life. I stopped you. Remember?”
Her face drained of colour. “How do you know that?”
“Because I saw you,” he said softly. “For the first time… from the other side.”
She swallowed. “Prove it.”
He snapped his fingers.
The lamp lifted into the air.
Her mouth fell open.
“That’s… incredible.”
“You like it?” he asked quietly. “Everyone else feared it.”
She whispered, “It’s beautiful".
He turned towards the mirror, his reflection staring back at him as though it held answers it refused to give.
“I want to ask many questions—why my mother was able to do magic, and why she hid it from me,” he said quietly, sorrow weighing each word.
“She hid it because she was a witch,” Julius replied with unsettling calm.
John stiffened. His breath caught.
“What?” He turned sharply. “My mother… is a witch?”
“Yeah. She was a witch. So am I,” Julius said, hopping neatly onto the nearby table, his tail flicking with unmistakable pride.
John stared at him. “You are a witch too?”
“A wizard!” Julius snapped, offended.
“Yes, yes—a wizard,” Julius corrected himself, clearing his throat. “And your mother, Diana, was my elder sister. I turned myself into a cat during the Salem witch trials, though regrettably, the spell became permanent. I had a very bad habit of speaking too much, so one day Diana placed a charm upon me, locking away my human voice. She broke it only when she sent me into the mirror with you.”
John’s lips parted slowly as the truth settled upon him.
“You are… my uncle?” he said, a faint, incredulous laugh escaping him.
Kylie pressed her palm to her forehead. “Wow. A cat uncle.”
John barely heard her. His expression had softened, his eyes clouded with something dangerously close to grief.
“Uncle Julius… what happened to my mother after we left?” he asked, his voice low, almost afraid of the answer.
Julius looked away. “How am I supposed to know, nephew?” he said quietly. “But I am damn sure it is not good news.”
John’s shoulders sagged, as though the weight of centuries finally pressed down upon him.
“How will we know that?” he asked, sorrow plain in his eyes.
“We can find something in a history book,” Kylie said softly. It was the first time she had spoken in a while, her voice gentler now, steadier.
John turned to her, hope flickering. “That is a good idea. Take me there.”
“No, you can’t,” she said at once, eyeing him from head to toe. “First, we need to change your look. You look like an alien in that outfit.”
“Alien?” John scoffed, deeply offended. “Pathetic. This is one of the finest garments ever worn by a prince.”
“In your time,” Kylie muttered, rubbing her temples. “In your time.”
“I shall call Carl for a little help,” she added, stepping closer without thinking. Her fingers brushed lightly through his long hair.
John froze.
“Hey—don’t,” he said quickly, taking a few steps back. His cheeks coloured faintly, his composure faltering.
She blinked, surprised. “What happened?”
“Good ladies do not touch the hair of unknown men so freely,” he said, clearing his throat.
She burst into laughter. “You are not unknown anymore. We’re friends.”
Her eyes finally focused on him.
He was—unfairly handsome.
Not in the polished, modern way she was used to, but in a way that felt old, powerful… timeless.
John stood tall, easily over six feet, his posture straight and regal, as though he had been trained from birth to carry the weight of crowns and kingdoms. His body was lean yet clearly muscular, built with strength rather than bulk—broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist, every movement controlled and graceful, like a trained swordsman.
His skin was warm and lightly tanned, as if he had once lived beneath open skies and long summers rather than ceilings and walls. A faint scar traced his knuckle—proof that his hands, though elegant, were not unfamiliar with battle.
But it was his face that stole her breath.
Sharp, well-defined features carved as if by an artist’s hand—a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and lips that looked far too expressive for a man who spoke so formally. His dark brown hair fell thick and slightly wavy around his face, longer than any modern style, framing him in a way that made him look like he had stepped straight out of an old painting.
And then there were his eyes.
Deep brown—warm, intense, and unreadable. Eyes that held centuries of loneliness and quiet strength. When they met hers, they didn’t just look at her—they searched her, as if trying to understand a world that did not belong to him.
There was something dangerous in his beauty. Not loud or reckless—but controlled, restrained. The kind of man who didn’t need to raise his voice to command attention.
Kylie swallowed hard.
He didn’t look like a stranger who had broken into her room.
He looked like a prince who had lost his kingdom.
And somehow… found his way to her.
Just then, her phone rang on the table. John picked it up before she could stop him, examining it as though it were an enchanted artefact.
“What manner of object is this?” he asked, frowning.
She gently took it from his hand. “It’s a phone. I’ll explain later.”
It was Andy.
“Yeah, Andy, I’m fine now. Don’t worry,” she said, forcing steadiness into her voice. Then her expression shifted. “Wow… you’ve won a one-week football scholarship to another school? That’s amazing. Yes, of course—go. Don’t worry about me, I’ll manage school. We’ll talk after a week.”
She hung up, exhaling slowly.
John—still fascinated by everything—was moving around the room, lifting objects carefully as though they might bite him. He stopped in front of the fairy music box, watching it spin.
“Whoa… this is madness,” he murmured, utterly entranced.
She watched him for a moment, then smiled. “Alright. I’ll help you adjust to this century—and we’ll find out what happened to your mother. But you must promise to do exactly as I tell you.”
“Where is the stew house?” he asked suddenly.
She blinked. “What?”
“The stew house,” he repeated earnestly.
She hesitated, then laughed awkwardly. “I… don’t understand. You really are from a different century, aren’t you? Different words, different accent—and I’m afraid I can’t speak your English properly.”
He smiled faintly. “I require a bath.”
“Oh,” she said quickly. “Right. Now I understand. Come on—you’ll need fresh clothes. I’ll give you my brother’s for now, and later we’ll buy you some of your own.”
Their eyes met—his deep blue, steady and unreadable. She turned away before the moment lingered too long.
*************
On the street, he stared openly at everything—the cars, the lights, the people.
“Why would a woman wear such short garments?” he asked, horrified.
“John,” she hissed, folding her arms. “Put your sixteenth-century patriarchy away.”
On the bus, people stared. She knew why. He looked like a Greek statue brought to life.
After fifteen minutes, they stood outside a grand salon.
“Carl’s Fashion & New Looks,” he read aloud.
“Your accent is unreal,” she said.
“I am royal,” he replied calmly.
Inside, Carl greeted her warmly. When he saw John, he whistled. “Extremely handsome. I’m not refusing this.”
“Sir—are you into men?” John asked stiffly.
Carl laughed. “Relax. You’re just blessed.”
An hour later, John emerged transformed.
Shorter hair. Clean lines. Modern confidence.
Her heart skipped.
“Magic hands,” she breathed.
He coughed. “You cut my hair.”
“You’ll survive,” she muttered.
*************
Over pizza, ice cream, clothes, laughter—something shifted.
“Why are you doing this for me?” he asked quietly.
She hesitated. “Don’t make me regret it.”
Later, under the moonlight, she spoke of loneliness.
He spoke of hiding magic.
They understood each other.
“You belong here,” she said softly.
“And you,” he replied, “are braver than you know.”
*************
At her house, panic struck.
“My parents are home.”
He smiled. “Which window?”
And in a blink—gone.
Wizard.
Inside, tension exploded with her mother.
She spoke back.
For the first time.
Later, in her room, he lay on her bed, eating an apple.
“Borrowed,” he said.
She sighed. “John… no magic.”
“Why must I always hide?”
She turned on the music.
He frowned. “What an inappropriate song.”
She smiled. “You’ll warm up.”
He sighed. “You are complicated.”
She laughed. “Unlike a prince from a mirror.”
***********
- Writer
