NEW CUSTODIAN
1128 Words
Burning with fury, unseen and unheard.
“CLARA!!!” Kael’s scream tore from his chest as he slammed his fists into the cold glass. The impact sent silver fractures of pain up his arms, but the mirror didn’t even shudder. “Am I a joke to you now? A _fortune_ for display?”
His words died in the glass. No one heard. No one ever did.
He watched, helpless, as men in gloves hauled his prison away. _Auction Lot #47. Property of Blackthorn Estate. Sold to E. Vale for $43._
Forty-three dollars. His legacy, his reign, his _life_ — worth less than a textbook.
*E. Vale — Elena.*
She stood in the university basement, staring at the tag with a tired, disbelieving smirk. “I guess my time to blossom has arrived,” she muttered to herself, running a thumb over the faded ink. “The so-called cursed mirror of the 18th century. Probably haunted.” She let out a short, humorless chuckle. “What a joke.”
But the joke wasn’t funny. Not really.
A sigh escaped her. “It’s been three weeks,” she whispered to the empty room, to the mirror, to no one. “Three weeks since Aunt Margaret died.” The words still felt foreign in her mouth. _Aunt_. She hadn’t known she had family. Not until a lawyer called and told her she’d inherited _everything_ — a rotting Victorian estate, a pile of debt, and apparently, a creepy mirror.
She dragged her eyes over the glass. “I still can’t believe she was wealthy. Or that I’m her heir.” Her voice softened, uncertain. “I didn’t even know her name until the funeral.”
Inside the mirror, Kael heard every word. And he didn’t care.
Let her talk to herself. Let her gawk. He had one thought, one fire eating him alive: _revenge_. Against Clara. Against the Veil. Against every smug Fae who’d watched him fall and laughed.
Nothing would stand in his way. Nobody could stop him.
_…Or could they?_ The doubt was a flicker, unwelcome. He crushed it with a growl, his gaze locking onto Elena like she was the architect of his hell.
She didn’t look like a threat. Just a girl. Ink-stained fingers, dark circles under her eyes, coffee gone cold down the front of her hoodie. Elena Vale was a grad student who’d spent years looking away from problems — from eviction notices, from maxed-out credit cards, from Jason, her cheating, lying ex who’d called her “too guarded” when she caught him.
She was E. Vale now. Estate owner. Heir.
And she had no idea what she’d just bought.
The irony wasn’t lost on her. A week ago, she was mopping floors in the Blackthorn estate as a janitor, trying to chip away at student loans. Now the place was _hers_. Cleaned, repaired, smelling like fresh paint instead of damp wood and bad decisions.
“It doesn’t make sense,” she murmured, pressing her palm to the mirror’s frame. The glass was cold. Too cold. “But I’ll take it.” A slow, genuine smile touched her lips — the first real one in months. “Joke’s on you, Kael Blackthorn. I’ll take care of you. You’re a beautiful piece.”
Kael froze. _She knew his name?_
Her smile warmed, almost affectionate. It made his stomach turn. Pity. She _pitied_ him.
Later. Midnight.
Elena had spent days hauling boxes, and this mirror was the worst of it. “Two hundred pounds,” she grunted, shoving it into the corner of her newly reclaimed bedroom. “For a _mirror_, you weigh a ton. What are you made of, guilt?”
The estate was quiet now. Alive, but quiet. Moonlight bled through the tall windows, painting everything silver. It was beautiful. Overwhelming. She’d cried when the decorators left, because no one had ever built anything _for_ her before.
She couldn’t sleep. Excitement buzzed under her skin, too sharp to ignore. At 12AM, she was still awake, staring at the ceiling, when the full moon hit the mirror dead-on.
The light wasn’t normal. It _moved_. It poured into the glass like water, and the air in the room went still. Heavy. Charged.
Elena sat up, heart kicking.
Inside the glass, Kael’s eyes narrowed. Gold. Actual gold, not hazel, not brown, and not the red of his rage. Wolf-gold. Ancient. Knowing.
And then it hit him — a scent, a memory, a truth that had been buried for a century.
_Veil blood._
He inhaled, and the world shifted. “I know your blood,” he snarled, though no sound escaped. His lips pulled back from his teeth. “No breath fogged the glass. Daughter of the Veil.”
His jaw ticked. Fury and something dangerously close to hope warred in his chest. “Your kind did this to me—”
“_What_ daughter?”
Kael’s head snapped up.
Elena was standing now, a baseball bat gripped in her hands, her eyes wide but not with fear. With _challenge_. She was looking _at_ him. Directly at him.
“You can see me?” His voice came out ruined, a rasp of disbelief. A hundred years, and no one had ever answered.
“Yeah, I can,” she said, tightening her grip on the bat. She didn’t lower it. “Who are you? What do you think you’re doing? And how the hell did you get _in there_?”
The questions came rapid-fire, sharp. She wasn’t screaming. She wasn’t running.
Kael barked out a laugh. It was ugly, broken. “That’s not happening. You can’t just—” He slammed his palm against the glass, silver blood welling. “I am Kael Blackthorn! The greatest king of the Blackfang! Now get me out of here!”
Elena flinched at the impact, but she didn’t step back. Her eyes narrowed, searching his face. Then—
“You’re… Kael?” she whispered.
The name sounded wrong in her mouth. Too small. Too human.
“My mom used to tell me stories,” she said slowly, wonder creeping into her voice. “About the wicked Alpha who laughed at the Veil and got cursed into a mirror.” She tilted her head. “That was _you_?”
Then she laughed. Not cruel. Not mocking. _Delighted._ Like she’d just found the missing piece to a puzzle she didn’t know she was solving.
“I can’t believe it’s true.”
Kael stared, thrown. She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t threatened. She looked at him like he was fate. Like she’d been waiting for him without knowing it.
A chill ran down his spine that had nothing to do with the glass.what was really going on,Kael lost in thoughts wondered,
_Was this fate… or coincidence?_
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- Writer
