Caliban's Magic Mirror

The elder whispered in his ear: “Your secret name is Calibán…”

The boy had seen his face in still water, in dark windows, and once in the polished back of the elder's cooking pot. But the mirror he found that morning was different.

It did not show him as he was. Or at least, that was what the boy thought.

He moved closer. The boy in the mirror moved too—but there was something in those reflected eyes that he did not remember putting there.

“Elder,” he called. “There's something wrong with this mirror.” The elder continued cutting herbs. “Or,” he said, “there's something wrong with the way you're looking at it.”