Yes, it is save... but that's not all

Pursha/Master Readner headed straight for the door. Without any hints of doubt, she/he produced an iron key and inserted it into the lock. She/he turned the key and pushed the door handle down in one fluid motion. Composedly, she/he opened the door and entered the room behind. Aaralon hesitated a moment, but when he heard now signs for trouble, he followed.

The room he entered was spacious and deserted. The basalt floor was dusty and covered with cobwebs in the corners. It's shape was slightly oval with a maximum diameter of approximately 50 feet. Large, foggy windows in a tenebrous grey framed its sides. In the middle of the oval, an exceptionally intricate mosaic depicted a spiral. On the other side of the door, a few feet from the window aisle removed, stood a massive mirror.

"Come in, little one, and close the door," Pursha teased. She had once again assumed her familiar succubus form and was headed for the large mirror. It measured about fifteen feet in length and twelve feet in height. Two massive beams of oak, marked with arcane carvings, flanked its sides. The mirror surface was remarkedly planar and shone in a light of its own. When Aaralon shut the door, the mirror's glow was sufficient to illuminate the room. Despite their shadiness, the windows reflected the light just perfectly.

Aaralon was impressed. "What is this room?" Cautiously he stepped into the oval. "I've never seen nor heard of it before."

"They call it Chamber of Tides," she replied without turning around. The succubus stood in front of the mirror, immersed in meditative concentration. Aaralon ventured somewhat closer until he reached the edge of the fit in spiral. As he took a closer look, he realised that the spiral consisted of many lanes, that were interwoven with each other in a most fascinating manner. Having a knack for geometrical formations and hidden riddles, Aaralon quickly discovered a number of repeating patterns, though their meaning remained undiscernible to him.

"What does it mean?" he asked, fascinated by the complexity of the artwork's design.

"The mosaic?"

"Both. The mosaic and the mirror."

"They are one." Pursha's rich voice sounded strangely remote. Aaralon looked up and saw her still standing in front of the mirror. It seemed as if she was intently staring at it, however, she still answered his questions. "The spiral and the mirror constitute each other. Without the spiral the mirror has no use. Without the mirror the spiral has no relevance."

Aaralon frowned, trying to make sense of Pursha's words. "Do you mean they are linked with each other."

"Kind of. But unlike two living beings that are linked together through a joint past. Or two events that are connected by one person who experienced both. It's more like a cart and a wheel. A cart without a wheel doesnt function. But a wheel for itself isn't much more than a circular construct."

"Ah. And the mirror being the cart and the spiral the wheel."

"Exactly." Pursha suddenly turned around, a mysterious smile in her beautiful face. "C'mon here, my darling mage," she said invitingly.

Aaralon hesitated. Reservedly he eyed the stonework again. A spiral consisting of multiple sub-spirals. It reminded him of a giant spider and its web - once you had been trapped, there was no way out. But Aaralon wasn't for nothing the most talented apprentice mage at the college: dangerous enigmas and unsolved mysteries challenged his ambition. Tentatively he paced around the edge of the spiral, carefully avoiding to step on it, until he stood next to the succubus. Again he sensed the aroma of musk and berries around her. It vexed him, that he hadn't noticed it earlier.

"What should I do?" Aaralon turned towards the mirror and looked at it. The soft glow didn't appear as intense as before, now as he stood close to it. He saw the image of a sceptically looking young man in his early twenties, clad in a magician's garb. To his right side stood an exotic, incredibly beautiful woman with midnight hair and ebon eyes. Behind them rested the flat form of a spiral, created in the form of an artwork of colors, basalt and limestone.

"What do you see?"

"Me. You. The room. And the spiral." Aaralon looked more closely. As much as he tried, he could not find anything else that he hadn't already seen when he had entered the room.

"Really? You disappoint me." Surprisingly enough Pursha sounded more like a scholar but an unpredictable demoness. "Just remember what I said."

Aaralon blushed. He fret about not following the very first rule of study: Pay heed to your tutor's words. He took a deep breath and concentrated. "The spiral and the mirror are one" he murmured and focussed his toughts on both of them. Still nothing happened. 'The spiral and the mirror are one' he silently repeated to himself. He tried to imagined them merge with each other, mirror and spiral reshaping themselves to one unique construction.

"No, Aaralon" Pursha warned him. "You think too much like a scientist. Like a magician. Try to think like a sorcerer. Less formulas and more inspiration. You don't make a cart drive by using the wheel's wood as support for the axis."

Aaralon's concentration broke. He exhaled and tried to relax again. He attempted to ban the tension in his muscles and calculation from his thoughts. This time he didn't focus on both the spiral and the mirror. Instead he focussed on the mirror as it was. An object capable of reflecting the present. The present... Maybe this one mirror was capable of showing more than just the present. Maybe the past. Or the future. Or something else? His thoughts wandered off to events that the future might bring. He had heard of magical mirrors that could show both the past and the future. No... no, that couldn't be. That was too simple. 'Don't think like a magician. Think like a sorcerer. Think with your heart.' Okay, again. Start with the mirror. An object capable of reflecting the present. So far, so good. The spiral. It was present in the mirror too. It was a part of the reflection. It was a part of the mirror! The cart and the wheel. No sense in merging what has already been merged. Of course, that was it! Aaralon exulted. Again he concentrated on the spiral and the mirror, but this time with the spiral being an integral part of the mirror. The reflection of himself and of Pursha standing next to him eclipsed. His focus narrowed on the spiral. The spiral - a construct of interwoven lanes and shapes. Like a wheel rotating on the axis of a cart. Rotation. Spirals do rotate! His focus changed. He began to consider the spiral more than just an artwork made by man. A symbol for movement. A symbol for change - as the moon changes the tides. More and more, the spiral started to become the focus of the whole mirror. It zoomed in like letters underneath a reading glass. Like a spider under an alchemist's microscope.

All of sudden the spiral virtually jumped into Aaralon's perception. Its intersecting lanes and forms began to rotate around each other. The spiral grew in front of his eyes to a huge maelstrom of patterns. Aaralon couldn't help but stare at that maelstrom. It captivated him. Made him want to become a part of it.

The maelstrom started to loose its anchor. Still a grinding giant looming in Aaralon's perception, the maelstrom began to fade away. The circular lanes of which it consisted vanished and made room for another circle. A cirle of men.

They were a dozen, standing in the centre of a circular hall. Cloaked in black capes, embroidered with golden, arcane runes, they performed a grand ritual of magic. Before Aaralon could make out any details, the vision vanished again. It was replaced by another moving circle. But this circle didn't consist of a predefined, geometric structure. Instead it dispersed into a myriade of buzzing beings. They whirred around so fast that Aaralon needed some time to catch their identity: They were demonic creatures, energized by chaos and filled with a deep hatred for nature and order. Again, the vision changed. The jumble of buzzing demons was replaced by a dark, but much more tranquil place. But the sensation of hatred didn't wane. If anything it burned even stronger - an abyssal hatred for life itself and all forms it took. Most scaring was the revelation, that this hatred had just woken from slumber. Time had come to extinguish all living. Eventually, that awful sensation of **** vanished as well, just to be replaced by another circle of mages. This time they were just five, standing in the middle of a clearing and they were clad in white capes. Nonetheless, the golden symboles on the capes were still the same. Again a magic ritual was performed, and again Aaralon had no clue about its intentions. Then the small arcane circle fizzled too, and the human faces of two magicians, tipping a scale, surfaced into his view. One of the mages had something familiar about, but before Aaralon got a closer look, that image changed again. Where two mages had stood, a mighty warrioress rose amidst a sea of charging enemies. Holding two blades, steel whirling through the air, she slashed down her foes left and right. Her grim face featured high cheeks, midnight hair and radiated with a power so strong. Once again, Aaralon had a feeling of familiarity... if the vision just could hold a bit longer...