Sir Hiss and the Illusion of Thornwick Hall

More about Sir Hiss and the Illusion of Thornwick Hall

No one knows for sure where Sir Hiss was born. Some whisper of a gilded hatbox lid, others of a theater box from which he emerged as the consummate gentlemanly trickster. The only thing that's certain is that if there was a rare treasure, an unguarded truth, or an overly gullible aristocrat to be found anywhere, Sir Hiss was already there. Or worse, he'd only just begun. His most famous coup began on a moonless autumn night in the mist-shrouded Thornwick Hall—a mansion so ancient that its walls breathed in stories and exhaled them in dreams. Lady Aeloria of Fernglen lived there, a collector of magical illusions whose gallery was legendary. No one was allowed to see it. No one—until Sir Hiss decided to invite himself. Wearing a tailored top hat, silk gloves, and a fake crest ring, he introduced himself as "Count Elix von Serpenthal." His demeanor was a poem of politeness and half-truths, his voice as sweet as candied lies. He accepted the lady's invitation to her masquerade with the grace of a fox sneaking into a henhouse. He danced with ladies who should have known better and conversed with lords who thought they saw through him. He spun tales of ancestors who dealt in shadows and spoke of a family curse that could only be lifted by the "Mirror of Awakening"—a fabled painting that supposedly split and revealed its viewer's inner truth. Aeloria, a woman passionate about legends and vanity, was fascinated. She led him through a secret passage, hidden behind a tapestry, into a chamber filled with silence. There it hung—the painting. A work that seemed to move unless you looked directly at it. The air smelled of lavender and old varnish. Sir Hiss admired her, recited verses softly, and as she turned away, he let a finely spun rayon copy slip from his frock coat. In a perfectly choreographed moment of wonder, he exchanged original for illusion—a finger play, a whispered "ah"—and nothing was the same again. He left Thornwick Hall with polite thanks, a ruby on his chest, and a mischievous smile on his lips. Weeks later, the fraud was noticed. But by then, the real Hiss had long since vanished—like mist on velvety water. It is said that he sank the original image in a gondola, on a lake that can only be found in mirror labyrinths. Others say he hung it above his fireplace, where it always shows him as a shadowy figure in the left-hand corner—too subtle to be certain, and too clear to be a coincidence. Lady Aeloria hasn't hosted any more soirées since then. It's said that she speaks at night to a painting that no longer responds—but occasionally, when the wind blows around Thornwick Hall, one hears a laugh that is otherworldly. A sibilant laugh.