The Mirror of Assimilated Auguries
"In the hall of glass panes, the Mirror of Assimilated Auguries will show you the way to The Augur's Lake."
You look up from the page of the small guidebook you hold in your hand—its words echoing in your mind.
You were certain you found the right hallway, but in the grandeur-filled mirror before you, you find nothing but your own reflection. Your gaze lingers and your mind slowly clears of strife, of want.
It's in that exact moment when peace washes over you that they catch your eye—tiny specks of light that do not belong.
Growing, expanding—until a ballet of colours entrances you.
Vibrant hues and dancing swirls of unshaped forms burst out from the mirror—opening a gateway.
Its splendour pulls at you invitingly, yet equally stirs unease in its unearthly nature.
Stepping through feels like nothing you have ever experienced before. To a part of you, it seems like you've taken only a single step, yet another part feels like it has crossed the vastness of time and space in an instant.
The realm you've entered leaves you in a monochromatic shock—for even though you entered through a portal made of luminescence and vibrant colors, all you see around you now is a spectrum of grays.
In the bleak light, a grand moon looms over the lake that stretches out before you.
Here and there upon the shore you notice fellow onlookers, their features blurred and unrecognizable.
A more prominent presence exudes from the figure that you see walking towards the center of the lake. His form holds shapes of both man and bird–with feathers adorning his head and draped over his shoulders.
He treads the surface of the lake as if it was a shallow pool.
Upon reaching the mirrored moon, he kneels.
In ritualistic reverence, his fingers trace patterns in the waters below. Through the ripples, images of other worlds play out tales of valor and sorrow.
All the while his eyes seem to search intently, though you cannot tell for what.
You dismiss the notion, as the stories shaped in the waters draw your attention more compellingly.
The artworks shown through this mirror are birthed out of appreciation and resonance with certain stories that have crossed my path at some point in life. The ones that linger, that leave a mark, that awaken emotion—that invoke catharsis.
They aim to pay hommage—strive to honor this connection.
Were they songs, they would be covers.
Designed to carry with them equal identity of the source and of myself—and thus, of The Cathartic Archives.
