A Hero’s Shade

What makes a hero? Good looks, strong abs and perfect teeth? No. What makes a hero is the will to carry on, the courage to never give up. A hero is expected to be the epitome of righteousness. The last bastion of hope when all is lost. They are expected to be pure. To be incorruptible. This is a story of a hero—not a perfect one, but nonetheless a hero.

Our story starts like most with a once upon a time. Our hero is also like most—he has an unshakeable sense of justice and has the sole goal of destroying the mirror of darkness. Stereotypical as it may be, it was his cornerstone. He set off on his quest many moons ago. He was promised the hand of the Princess of the land if he was successful. Never had he been so determined. He crossed the bleakest deserts, the highest mountains and did battle with devilish foes. All he was ever armed with was a simple hammer. The only companion he had was a mild mannered horse. It was enough.

Now here he was. Finally stood at the mirror. It felt like years had passed. He felt his goal in front of him. He nary had need to worry about anything else. This was it.

Now we need to pause here. Let’s question this hero, shall we? He fulfils his narrative purpose. He has a cornerstone to guide him. His life seems ripped straight from an old mythological tale—akin to Perseus or Hercules—however, one thing differs. He is not a myth. He is a real man. Real men have flaws. So when he traversed the world for his goal, he became distracted. He divulged in pleasures of the flesh. He felt superior. He had a purpose. He was no fairy tale or mythological hero. Now, let us return to the tale.

Upon gazing at the mirror, a curiosity aroused inside the hero. 'Why not take one peek?’ His inner thoughts told him that it would be harmless. He was incorruptible. He was pure. A hero. He gazed into the mirror, its obsidian darkness reflecting his image back. Nothing occurred. One moment passed. Still nothing. Then as the hero raised his hammer to smash the mirror, it happened. His reflection spoke.

“I am thou. Thou art I. A tiny flick of darkness exists inside the heart of all men. That is why I exist. Destroy me and you shall release it.”

Trickery, possibly an illusion—the hero had seen much worse on his travels. He had no reason to question his goal. He simply needed to achieve it and acquire his reward. The reward he now so lusted after.

“Bah, I don’t care for ya bloomin’ fictions. Begone, demon.”

“I am no demon. I am you. I am the inverse. In fact, I am the hero.”

“Mind tricks? Shuddup! I’ll f-”

“I know exactly what you have done. On this side I had the same quest. Smash the mirror."

The hero let his hammer fall upon the glass. The second before it landed, a voice could be heard.

“Darkness exists in the hearts of all of you humans. I am the true hero. You are the dark. Twisted. Warped. Reflection.”

The mirror smashed. No one heard anything. The hero returns to claim his reward. His life goes on. Then one day she saw it. The princess, now a beautiful queen, saw it. She saw the darkness lurking beneath his skin. She saw his deed. The real him. She could not handle it. The princess committed suicide. The hero fell into corruption. The kingdom fell into despair.

What a sad story. If only he had never touched the mirror.