In the kingdom of Ethereal, where spring never faded and flowers bloomed year-round, there lived two sisters, Alina and Seraphine. They were renowned for their beauty—Alina with hair like spun gold and eyes as bright as the morning sun, Seraphine with raven-dark locks and eyes deep as the twilight sky. They were so alike in grace and charm that people called them the mirror sisters.

Yet, for all their beauty, they were different in spirit. Alina was ambitious, drawn to courtly affairs and the power hidden in honeyed words. Seraphine was quiet, preferring poetry and the solitude of moonlit gardens.

One summer’s eve, a traveling sorcerer arrived at the palace, bearing with him a peculiar gift—a mirror unlike any other, framed in silver and carved with ancient runes. "This mirror," he told the sisters, "does not show what you are, but what you will become."

Curious, the sisters stepped forward.

Alina gazed into the glass first. Her breath caught. In its depths, she saw herself seated on a golden throne, draped in silk, a crown upon her head. The people bowed before her, their admiration unshaken, their love absolute. A future of power.

Seraphine hesitated, then peered into the mirror. But her reflection was not what she expected. She saw herself in a crumbling castle, standing alone in the shadows. Her beauty had withered, her eyes hollow with sorrow. The world had forgotten her. A future of ruin.

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She recoiled. "It’s a trick," she whispered.

Alina’s fingers brushed the mirror’s edge, her gaze still locked on the vision. "No," she breathed. "It’s destiny."

From that night, Alina changed. She spoke more with the nobles, charmed the king’s advisors, and began weaving a path toward power. Seraphine, uneasy, watched from the sidelines as her sister’s smiles grew sharper, her words laced with something she could not name.

Then, one night, Seraphine awoke to silence.

Alina’s chambers were empty. Her golden-haired sister had vanished. The mirror lay shattered, its shards glinting like fallen stars on the marble floor.

Seraphine searched for her across the kingdom, through cities and forests, until she came to the ruins of an old castle, hidden beyond the eastern cliffs. The same castle from her vision.

There, in the hollow remains of a great hall, she found her sister.

Alina stood before a broken throne, her once-glorious gown tattered, her hair unkempt. She turned as Seraphine stepped forward, her once-bright eyes now vacant, haunted.

"You were right," Alina whispered. "It wasn’t a trick. The mirror never lied."

Seraphine’s heart clenched. "Then why did you follow it?"

Alina looked past her, toward the fading horizon. "Because I wanted it to be true."

The wind howled through the ruins, carrying with it the echoes of what once was.

As dawn broke over the crumbling castle, Seraphine realized the truth—the mirror had never shown them separate fates. It had shown them a choice.

And Alina had made hers.