Yesleign

At the Close

Her slender fingers shook as they reached for the frame of the magic mirror. The gilded gold frame swirled in dizzying circles around the glass, heavy, deep and ornate reminders of the weight of what she was about to do. She knew how this would end - with her laying lifeless on the ground. She knew that the prince would come, but that even he would not be able to save her this time. Within the frame the glass was clouded with a black fog. Inside the shadows churned in eager anticipation, sensing her gaze upon the glass. Darkness called out to darkness.

Loose black curls crept down her back, a stark contrast against the red cloak slung across her shoulders. The weight of the warm red wool kept the cold of the room from reaching her. Yet, her shallow breaths left in swirling white whispers from her ruby red lips.The dark hum within her pulsed, spilling icy blackness into her bloodstream. The darkness within her responded to whatever was calling out to her from the other side of the glass. She didn’t try to fight it this time, allowing the magic to surge through her as a pounding ache. The magic felt like ice pumping through her veins.

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She knew the rules. She knew there would be consequences. She knew that fate would claim a cost, that one couldn’t ask something of the dark magic without giving something up in return. And yet she stood in front of the mirror’s shimmering surface, ready to ask.

From within the swirling surface a voice slithered out. It spoke in an unnatural and unsettling whisper.

“Hello daughter of the Wild North.

Girl with skin as pale as snow,

Hair as black as ravens wings,

Lips as red as a rose,

And dark magic in her veins.

We see you.”