Chapter Fifty Nine: Reflection in the Mirror

The Mirrorite just smelled the very distinct scent. Faint, but almost there. He felt a form of presence.

It was the common perfume that is emitted by the highest form of vampires known to the many portions of the universe. This particular kind of smell is known to radiate from those who have been cleansed by literature, a very powerful breed that has been solidified by the known magical properties associated to the diligent study of Alchemy.

He immediately conducted a search of the place for any unexpected visitor, to see if an actual Vampire had already crossed the highway of dreams, just in case the worst conditions have already happened, and the Christmas Corporation has been totally deceived once more by all the confusion that is happening in the multilayers of dimensions.

The principal deception that have happened before was the false accusations that were directed to the credibility of the Werewolves by building a deep animosity between their existence with the Vampires, a conflict that was believed to be started by the manipulation of the efficacy of literature by altering its metaphysical ability to define the substance of characters and develop any concept drenched in the quality of philosophical constructs of its desired form.

The archrivalry has happened almost on a top level concern that simply sprouted out of nowhere, with its historical underpinnings being supported by frivolous historical claims. There was no known offense that is said to have started the mutual hatred between the two races that can be verified by credible historical evidence of the past, other than some films that tackle the issue in the most sensationalized manner in the same context derived from the audiobook of fictional storytelling.

The literary value of such account could have been vouched by an appropriate eyewitness account that contain the fairness of its fictional existence, but it was discovered as if the whole thing was fabricated in the most convenient way possible.

There was an utterly flawed system, but successful; there was an attempt to give this mutual rivalry a compelling reason to mightily exist by giving it intensity, flavor, and all the reasons to make their differences relevant in the state of affairs (characterized by an episteme) that is purely devoid of any reason that can be gathered based on the provisions of the Most Extensive Constitution of Literary Conception of the World of Fantasy.

This is an unlawful Agreement or Prophecy in all accounts. As such, it is an extremely dangerous thing in the literary sense to traverse its substance without a guarantee of a form of game theory that is ultimately based on a predefined set of rules.

For some, this is the embodiment of the pure definition of chaos or profound disorder. And within this disorder is an absolute source of longing, a condition which then affects the peaceful domicile found in one's own strength gathered from the trenches of the soul.

The Mirrorite has heard of this same situation happening from past experience. Although there are no Vampires in the vicinity to be the legitimate source of the scent, it is totally possible that the odor was being reflected in a validly constituted reflection of the same substance from a mirror not far away.

It is then that he knew, as a Mirrorite, that time is running out.

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