Gemma Silvestre's Arc

Chapter 1 of 7

Gemma Silvestre had collected a gem from every corner of the realm, and now the last one sat on her workbench, trying to kill her. The Mirrorstone would be the first lesson in her new jewel-cutting school, the one she meant to build in Birchrot. But a crust of gray Gloomcap coated the stone. One touch of the poison with bare skin, and her teaching days were over before they began. She wore thick gloves and held the stone over a shallow dish. The gray layer clung like dried mud. She scraped it with a steel pick. Flakes drifted down. One landed on her glove and hissed, eating a small hole in the leather. Gemma set the pick down. Steel alone would not do this. She needed someone who knew poison. She found Dr. May Goldstein at her clinic, a panda in a lab coat, gold bangles stacked up one arm. Each bangle marked a patient she had saved. Gemma trusted that record. She set the covered stone on the exam table. "Gloomcap," May said. She did not touch it. "Nasty. I've pulled it out of three animals." She tapped one bangle. "Two lived." "I need it off the stone," Gemma said. "Clean. The gem underneath must survive." May studied the crust. "Gloomcap hates salt brine. Soak it, the poison lifts. The brine has to be strong." The clinic door swung open. Sable walked in without knocking, a wiry girl with a sling on her hip. She and Gemma had traded hard favors before. Sable owed her nothing now, which was exactly why she came. "Heard you needed salt," Sable said. She dropped a weathered tin on the table. Salted eel, packed tight, glossy strips buried in white crystals. "Fishing quarter's strongest cure. Take the brine. Keep the eel." May cracked the tin and poured the salty liquid into a glass jar. Gemma lowered the Mirrorstone in with her gloved hand. The brine turned cloudy at once. Gray threads rose off the stone and curled through the liquid like smoke. The three of them watched. Nobody breathed over the jar. An hour passed. May lifted the stone with iron tongs and rinsed it under running water. The Gloomcap sloughed away in sheets. Underneath, the gem shone clear and smooth. At its center, a true mirror held Gemma's own face, sharp and bright. "Clean," May said. "Touch it. It won't bite now." Gemma peeled off one glove. She pressed a bare fingertip to the stone. Nothing burned. The mirror surface stayed cool. She had her masterwork at last, the centerpiece of her school. Then her reflection moved. Gemma held still, but the face in the mirror turned its head. It looked past her shoulder, at the door behind them, as if watching for someone coming. Gemma spun around. The doorway stood empty. "May," she said quietly, "whose reflection is that?"