Florian
Florian soon began to feel that something had gone awry.
He appeared to be the only person suffering any unease, for the Elements were having a fine good time exercising their will upon the mirrors. They took their revenge upon them for every irritation, every inconvenience, every malicious trick the looking-glasses had ever wrought. They drove the glasses before them like cattle, weaving their purloined magics back into a coherent whole, and celebrating their success as the hum of amplified power grew.
But the mirrors seemed far too easily subdued. It looked to Florian as though their show of disobedience was a pretence; compared with their earlier efforts at escape, their struggles now were weak and perfunctory.
The whirl of magics grew until Florian’s hair stood on end with
