She plunged.
Her feet flew over her head, her arms were thrown open, then her head was over her feet, then down again. It was like being tumbled in the most enormous waves: a roar from underneath the planet swept her body and she felt rushing and frothing. Her eyes filled with blue light, light seemed to be pouring from her ears and mouth and fingertips, and there was no time to scream or breathe, only to twist and spin.
And then not.
Light sucked inside out and everything was gone—no color, no shades, no dimension. No Sami. All was flat and nothing. It was just a blink. Like existence held its breath. Then released.
And light—in all delicate gradients and hues and colors—rolled back in.
Now she drifted. As if she were made of feathers. One great feather. Gently, gently lowering, rocking, lowering, at last settling into stillness. She sank into something with the softness of feathers, water, air.
Easing deeper. Into sleep.
There were voices. No. It was only one voice. And there was that good feeling again. Not as strong as before. Where was she now? Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be riding a little cushion of air. It rose and fell very gently with each of her breaths, like a cradle made from a cloud.
There was a sweet, rocking sensation inside her body and mind, tipping one way, then the other, gentle and satisfying, as if she herself had become the cradle. Something—or someone—was stroking her hands.
The voice blurred slightly. She couldn’t quite focus enough in order to hear. Words coming together:
Alive…you…
Like…seeing…wanted…dense.
Friend…waken…
She struggled to open her eyes. Her eyelids felt heavy, as if there were tiny weights attached to them. She began to crack them open, but sharp blue-and-white light cut into her eyes and she flinched, squeezing them shut.
She’s awake!
“No, your eyes! Wait, Sami!” the voice cried. She realized then that the first words she’d heard hadn’t been spoken aloud, yet somehow she’d still managed to hear them. She felt hands on her head—the feeling that something was sliding over her face. “Okay—yes. Now, gently, Sami. Open slowly.”
She lifted her eyes slowly and this time the intense colors were softer. She could just make out a shadowy head hovering over her.
“You’re not used yet to our light,” the voice said. “It will take some minutes at least.”
Sami realized that this creature or person standing before her was where the good feeling had come from. As she gazed at it, she started to remember what had happened: how she’d stood before the mirror with her grandmother’s spell book, reading those words, then fell forward into the mirror as this lovely, sweet sensation swept over her. The feeling was little more than a faint echo now. She squinted through bands of color and light and began to make out more details. The speaker appeared to be a boy, several years older than Sami, with round black eyes, green skin, and long, waving deep-black hair. He wore a checked scarf around his shoulders that reminded her of the headscarves men wore in Lebanon. He seemed intensely familiar to her, like a long-lost best friend, like someone she’d known all her life—and yet she was pretty sure she’d never seen him before. “You look like me,” she said hazily, her voice thick and slow. “Are you—like—a dream?”
His smile was wide and bright. “I am Dorsom. I’m sure I must seem very like dreams to you now. But no. I’m a Flicker. We are—well, how to say it so you understand? We’re reflections. Sort of.” Dorsom didn’t have an accent, but the slightly clipped way he talked reminded her of how some of the people in her family spoke English.
“Reflections…” She looked around, carefully sitting up. “Is this place—are we—inside the mirror somehow?”
Dorsom stared at her, blinking, and she felt a hum of surprise that seemed to come directly from him.
Now she sat a bit straighter, carefully balancing. Her body felt somehow featherlight. She attempted to pull her thoughts together. “Are we still—in the world?”
“It’s a world of a kind,” Dorsom said. She noticed his eyes flick away and back again. He seemed preoccupied or distracted. “We’re in Silverworld, Sami. The World next door.”
“And that—how do you know my name?” Sami pushed back her elbows.
“Take care,” Dorsom said. “You’re not used to our air yet.”
“I’m not used to…what?” Sami tried to stand up and nearly fell right back over. She was solid, yet couldn’t feel the weight of her own body. Her head spun for a second and her ears fizzed. “Whoa!” She braced against the ground, her hand brushing silky golden weeds. She realized she and the boy were out in some sort of open field—red stones and sandy bramble. Gradually, her sense of balance began to return. “What on earth is going on? What’s wrong with me?”
But he didn’t answer. Instead, he shifted into a squat, eyes scanning all around. Sami followed his gaze and saw that the field was bordered on one side by a row of distant houses. She squinted, tilting her head; the perspective changed and the houses looked much closer and quite familiar.
“I’m—I’m at home! We’re not in another world, we’re in my backyard.” She marveled, gazing around at scrubby weeds and sand, noticing bands of soft colors—the weeds lavender and the palm trees rippling coral red. “Only, well…it’s not totally my backyard….”
Then something like a surge or pulse ran through the air. Sami couldn’t see or hear it but she felt it clearly. “Oh! Wow.”
“What is it?” he asked. “What do you feel?”
She stared at Dorsom, still shocked and afraid, yet she had the strongest sense that this was someone she could trust. His warm black eyes were so familiar, it was somehow as if they were old friends who’d never met before.
He stood. “You must have picked up on something. It wouldn’t take long, I knew. Best we get going.”
“Going?” Sami wasn’t sure she could even get to her feet, but he took her hand and she rose effortlessly. “My gosh!” She started to laugh but then she felt the pulse through the air again—this time deeper and stronger, like a shock wave. It was as if, for an instant, everything had turned into ripples on a pond.
He asked, Is something coming?
Sami nodded, though she wasn’t sure how she knew. Then she realized again he hadn’t spoken the words out loud. “Wait. How are you—?”
Walking swiftly, Dorsom beckoned, and with his thoughts he called, Let us go now. Most quickly. Let’s go.