“Then it shall be,” he replied. And he kissed her deeply, passion and love swelling from both of their hearts.
Liorastoodbeforehermirror, waiting for the confirmation of her victory. But instead of her own triumphant reflection, the mirror's surface rippled like a pond disturbed by a stone. The dark glass swirled, clearing to reveal a scene that made her breath hitch in her throat. Shay and Prince Jacob, kissing tenderly in the courtyard, the six miners standing proudly behind.
“No,” Liora whispered, her hand trembling as she reached toward the glass. “It cannot be! She is dead. I fed her the fruit. I watched her fall!” The image in the glass did not fade. It grew brighter, taunting her with the one thing she could not poison: love. “Stop it!” Liora shrieked. “Show me! Show me who is fairest!”
The image of the courtyard faded. In its place, her own reflection returned. Liora let out a sigh of relief, leaning in close to admire the smooth line of her jaw, the dark fire in her eyes.
But then, the reflection blinked.
The woman in the glass smiled, but it was not Liora’s smile. It was a rictus of decay.
As Liora watched, paralyzed with horror, the reflection began to change. The smooth, alabaster skin she had oiled and pampered for four decades began to gray and thin, sucking tight against the skull. Her midnight hair, her pride and joy, turned the color of dirty ash and fell out in clumps, drifting to the bottom of the frame. Her teeth yellowed and lengthened; her posture curled into a question mark.
Liora gasped, clutching her own face. Her fingers met not smooth skin, but deep, dry furrows. She looked down at her hands—they were spotted and withered, the hands of a crone.
“What is this?” she croaked, her voice a rusted hinge. “What are you doing to me?”
The mirror seemed to hum, a low vibration that shook the teeth in her head. The poison she had ingested earlier—the single bite of the apple—suddenly roared to life in her blood. It didn't put her to sleep. It accelerated the time she had stolen. Decades crashed into her in seconds. Her bones cracked and bowed under the weight of sudden age. Her heart fluttered like a dying moth.
“Stop it, dark magic! I am the Queen!” she screamed at the glass, raising a withered fist. “I am the fairest! I am Liora!”
She struck the glass with her fist in a fury of rage. It did not just crack—it exploded. With a sound like a thunderclap, the great mirror shattered outward. A thousand shards of silver glass—bright as diamonds, sharp as daggers—erupted into the room. They flew at her like a swarm of angry bees, driven by a magic that was finally done serving her.
Liora fell back, pierced by the jagged fragments of her own vanity.
She landed hard on the cold stone floor. She tried to crawl, to reach the door, but her limbs were suddenly too frail, too old. She rolled onto her back, her breath rattling in her chest. All around her lay the shards of the mirror. In every single pointed piece, she saw a reflection. A thousand tiny, withered hags stared back at her, their eyes wide with terror, dying alone in the dark.
She reached up, trying to shield her face, trying to hide the ruin of her beauty one last time. But her hand was too heavy.
“Fairest...” she wheezed, the word dissolving into a dry rattle.
And there, amidst the wreckage of her obsession, Queen Liora took her last breath—alone, quiet, and flayed by the truth she had spent a lifetime avoiding.
Backinthewesterncastle, Shay rested in Jacob's arms, feeling safer than she had in years. The threat was gone, the future shining with possibility. She had found her protectors, her prince, and most importantly, herself. Two futures shimmer before her. One born of devotion. One born of desire. Shay whispered to herself, “Once upon a time, a princess lived happily ever after.”
The End
Epilogue
Two possible futures. Two possible fates.
Only one can be yours.
Snow White stands at a crossroads. Fate splits. Desire splits. Which path calls to you?
Choose your destiny:
Epilogue A: Devotion
Epilogue B: Indulgence
Once you turn the page, the future you choose becomes the only one that exists.
Epilogue A: Devotion
Theballroomfeltcold,even with the roaring fire in the hearth. Shay traced patterns on the condensation of the wineglass, ignoring the politely spoken conversations swirling around her. Months. Months of being Princess Shay again, betrothed to Prince Jacob, months of smiles and curtsies and endless processions. She’d anticipated it, of course. A life lived under glass, a queen expected to be seen and not…felt.
Jacob found her near the French doors, overlooking the frost-laced gardens. He didn’t speak, simply slid his hand over hers, the warmth of his touch instantly thawing the chill that had settled in her bones.
