An excerpt from my novel, A Chronicle of Lies.
---
Swearing, he braced one arm against the wall for support and leaned down to pick the object up. It was a mirror made of polished metal and when he saw his reflection in it, he froze.

Nothing about the face that stared back indicated that it had ever been human. A mane of vibrant green hair crested its head, the long strands framing a blue snout. Ram-like horns grew from the back of the skull and curled around shoulder-length ears, which twitched erratically. Two almond-shaped nostrils flared right above his mouth as he breathed. Flesh of a lighter, sky-blue circled his eyes like liner, narrowing to a taper on his snout like tear streaks. For a split second, Vincent thought it was not as bad as he had imagined it should have been.
What in the hell am I looking at? he thought.
But as the details began to settle in, he began to feel the full import of the imagery. The snout, gleaming with the same sheen that limned his arms and legs, was smooth, almost immaculate of any blemish save for the very fine texture. It looked like something one would get if they crossbred a rabbit with a kangaroo and injected dragon DNA.

The marsupian creature in the mirror looked innocent and frightened, as if it had nothing in it but weakness and vulnerability. As he continued to stare, he watched it reflect his shock, his confusion, and eventually, his disgust, anger, and panic. As he clenched his mouth, it did the same, exposing fangs that curved like a dog's.

But it was the irises that caused ice to settle into his chest. He recognized those eyes as the same ones that stared up at him from that pool in the darkness. They glowed with an iridescent ambiance that reflected an unseen source of blue and magenta rays.

Flashes of the Stalker's attack came crashing into him, obfuscated memories of breaking bones and rent flesh reverberated through his mind. Vincent dropped the mirror and held up the clawed extremities as if seeing them for the first time.

“This isn't happening...” he tried to say, but his mouth was no longer his own.

Even the voice was different, it was deeper. The panic that he was trying to hold back was clawing its way to the surface. He had been taken from his world...tortured...remade into something new. He could feel it in his flesh. But that was impossible. This was a dream...

“They did something bad to you Cordell," one of his voices whispered.
“No...what the fuck…” He stumbled, lost control and fell to the ground.
Scrambling, he tried pushing his back up against the wall as if to retreat from the reflection. But the tail would not let him, it kept his back propped forward. Clenching his teeth, he fell on his side, staring at his trembling hands. Phosphenes danced across his vision and he found he was struggling to take in breaths.
The trance-like reverie he had been under was falling apart. In its place was an inescapable claustrophobia that felt like the whole world was trying to close in on him.
He reached up to grab handfuls of hair only to find the horns. He was about to scream...

---

This Portrait was drawn by the incredible talented !

If you want to check out the novel this is from, here's a link! https://www.amazon.com/Chronicle-Li...../dp/B0DMT4HLT2