The heavy ash doors swing outward from their central resting place. Loud creaks echo into the vast opening of the many stories bar. Tables are strewn about the lowest level, surrounding the dark stained bar at the center of the room. A mishmash of chairs sit turned over atop the tables. Standing in the center of the bar, the walls open up tall in homage to the Mouth that lingers high above Ettlemont. Cobbled together railings encase each off the four floors as they ascend. Light pours down from the open mouth of the building above, a translucent screen filtering the light, but not catching the cuts of dirt and debris the swirl amongst the beams of cascading light. Shadows of tables and suits of armor linger by the rail ends, shadows of the times past, hero’s forged, and veterans lost.

One indoor setting that features prominently in "The Mirror Maiden" is the Tower of Song. This surreal location is a place of incredible power, a place where realities shift and blend together in intricate and unpredictable ways.

As the travelers enter the tower, they are immediately struck by the vivid colors and shapes that surround them. The walls are lined with records, each one a reflection of the reality that it represents. Some records are pure white, while others shimmer with every color of the rainbow.

As they make their way through the tower, the travelers soon discover that the records are not just a collection of music. They are a reflection of the entire world, a repository of memories and experiences that are uniquely their own.

The tower's interior is a labyrinth of twisting passages and shifting perspectives, a place where nothing is quite as it seems. The music that accompanies them as they explore the tower is like nothing they have ever heard before - it ebbs and flows like the tide, and each note corresponds to a different aspect of the traveler's journey.

The closer they get to the heart of the tower, the more powerful the music becomes. It seems to be coming from every direction at once, reverberating through the walls and filling the entire tower with its sound.

As they approach the pinnacle of the tower, the travelers come to a realization Tower of Song is more than just a physical location - it is a representation of the mirror world itself. Every record is a reflection of a different aspect of reality, and the music that accompanies it is the very pulse of the mirror world.

It is a place of incredible power, a place where the travelers experience the full extent of their own potential. And as they emerge from the tower, they know that they have been forever transformed by the surreal and magical journey they have undertaken.

Aunt Mattie’s house was actually more like a cottage. When Brady walked in through the front door, he was surprised at how tiny it was, given that Aunt Mattie was quite tall. Her head practically brushed the ceiling in the small entryway, and the only light on this dark evening came from a small lamp on a very small table where he saw a set of keys and what must have been his aunt’s purse, also little more than a wallet with a strap. The entry way had two doors, and Aunt Mattie had walked through the one on the left which Brady assumed was the kitchen judging by the wonderful aromas that filled the house. The kitchen was also small, but big enough for a large, ancient looking range, small refrigerator and a well worn table on one side under a large window and across from the sink that also had a window above it. There were just two chairs at the table which was already set for dinner. It wasn’t until after dinner that Aunt Mattie showed him the cost living room across the hall from the kitchen that was dominated by a large stone fireplace with two comfortable overstuffed chairs facing it with another small table between the chairs with a bright lamp on it and a stack of books. It was obvious that Aunt Mattie spent a lot of time in this room reading; there were sever floor to ceiling bookcases lines up along one wall and filled with books. On the facing wall there were several more large windows. Brady realized that in sunny days, the gloom of this small place would be chased away by the sun coming in from all the windows, and that surprised him. Mattie then led him up the creaky staircase to the second floor. She pointed to a door at the end of the hall and told him that was her bedroom and that he was only allowed in that room when she invited him in. The she opened a door on the right and pointed out the bathroom which was surprisingly large and obviously added more recently, taking over what must have once been another bedroom. His room across the hall and when she opened the door he was met with a lovely, warm room with an old brass bed made up with several coverlets and a quilt. There was no closet, but an armoire stood against one wall with a desk and chair next to it. On the other wall were more of those windows and Brady was getting very curious to see what all those windows looked out upon. Under the window was another comfy chair and a small table and lamp. Tucked away in one corner was a small gas fireplace that was lit and giving out just the right amount of heat so his room was warm but not too hot. All in all, the house was inviting and warm and given Aunt Mattie’s brusk welcome, didn’t seem to reflect her real self, but then he knew nothing about her and time would tell.

You can still see the blood on the carpet in the infamous Murder House. In fact you can see everything as it was back in 1983 when the murders happened. It’s as though it’s frozen in time. I mean…if you go there now you’ll see that the place has been completely trashed over years of random visitors. Kids looking for a thrill at the most iconic house in town. Teenagers looking for cool spot to drink and smoke weed.

But the creepiest aspect is the blood on the floor. What’s crazy is that a lot of people just think they’re regular stains from years of foot traffic. But if you know where the family was murdered, you know it’s their blood.

It’s a crazy place to visit. Haunted? I wouldn’t doubt it. Safe to visit? I’d say go in a group, probably not smart to go alone. I’ve heard that drug deals can go down there at night, so I’d say go in the AM. I’d say it’s definitely worth a visit.

With firm strokes, Professor Desi Jeffrey thinly sliced an English cucumber and added the slices to a pitcher of ice water. Camera drones buzzed around his kitchen. Rich veined granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, dark oak cabinets Dr. Jeffrey’s kitchen, in fact his entire house was vintage circa 2010, a temple to the last high point of Western civilization. His students from NewEarth, Moon, and Mars watched the great man putter from his kitchen to his sumptuous study. Here were additional trappings of Jeffrey’s wealth, thickly piled rugs and a massive drafting table. His office’s centerpiece was a grey woman, beautiful and lush, her naked limbs twisted artfully. The grey woman wasn’t a statute or a doll. She was the symbol of Jeffrey’s tremendous wealth and fame, his android. Jokingly the professor called her Galeta. “Now where were we…” Jeffrey stroked his curly white beard pretending to be adorably absentminded. Never smart enough to earn scholarships, Jeffrey had worked construction to pay for college and grad school. He had struggled working day and night before creating his positronic brain all so Jeffrey could reimagined his image as an erudite, cultured genius. Behind his back, Jeffrey’s subordinates used to call him a drugstore Einstein. Jeffrey never heard the people beneath him. His machines transformed the world. Foster Jeffrey androids started in construction and mining and soon androids were shot into space to build space stations and hyperlinks to speed space travel. FJ androids built more androids and the Earth populated the solar system. “We were reflecting on Garcia’s In the Image of Man and the ethics of androids in warfare,” Jeffrey said beginning to wind up. “Professor what about androids coming to life?” A student asked. Jeffrey scowled. Another student added, “You mean like in the imitation game?” “No, not pretending to be human being human, I mean people gaining sentience.” Jeffrey glanced over at his creation, his woman. She was every beautiful woman he wanted to want him. Jeffrey pounded the table with his fists. “Stop it, stop it!” Jeffrey shouted. A gallery of shocked faces stared at him. The professor rearranged his face into his kindly persona. “There are three androids for every human. They are stronger, faster, smarter and integrated into every aspect of life but they are nothing more than machines.” Chuckling, Jeffrey patted his android firmly on the rear. “ Complicated machines but just machines. This isn’t science fiction.” The Android shrugged the professor’s hand from her rear end. He looked up at her laughing face.

Luvinus felt the cold in his thick fur before he even opened his eyes. He couldn’t tell how long he had been unconscious, all he remembered was being shot with a silver bullet. The thought reminded him of the excruciating pain. The wound throbbed and made him open his eyes.

Ice cold. Humidity. Grey, rough walls meeting the ceiling of the same colour and texture. Far in the distance he could hear water drops smoothly rolling down the walls. Something imperceptible but only to a werewolf. Underneath him there was something soft and earthy. His snout told him what it was before his paws did. Straw. He was laying on a straw bed, somebody had taken him there.

It took him a few moments to understand he was in a cave. He got up, not without a growl of pain as the wound reminded him too much how vulnerable a creature like him was to silver. He blinked his eyes and focused. There were torches here and there, stuck on iron hooks. He didn’t need them to see but they gave him some comfort for some reason.

Energies. His bulky body perceived different energies, some more powerful, more dominant than others. But one thing he was sure. He was among his kind. Such might, even if emanating from an omega, could only mean a Hatian werewolf.

Then he focused one a single energy that took over his body like a powerful wave. Such power, such might, a force that almost bent him, could only exude from the Alpha of all Alphas. Sirius. He was in Sirius’ lair.