Snow White, as told from the mirror's point of view.

Moira paced, biting her lip and nervously twisting a lock of golden hair around her finger. Ulrich promised he would return from the Queen’s palace in three days. A week had come and passed with no sign of Moira’s husband. Moira had waited long enough. She could no longer sit idly by hoping that her husband would return to her. She crossed the small dirt floor to her cabinet of potions and poultices, burned the herbs that would make the threads of her magic visible and chanted the old language of the forest that would bring Ulrich to her mind’s eye. When her closed eyes beheld him, she began her work. She created the first knot of magic, tied it to herself and Ulrich, then wove the spell that would bind him to her. 

Moira felt a chill as she realized hers was not the only spell that held him. Dark magic swirled around her husband, bathing him in shadow. She saw the dark threads that surrounded him, wound angrily together around a large knot of magic. She tugged at the threads, trying to undo the mess left by a powerful but careless witch. She labored so long and hard on those threads, pulling and pinching, winding and weaving, that the world turned to night without Moira once glancing up from her work. The harder she pulled on the threads, the more tangled around Ulrich they became. 

Only when someone entered her garden, disturbing the threads of a protective spell she had woven, did her attention waiver. Moira jumped to her feet and nervously glanced about her, disoriented from hours of focused effort. She felt them, just outside, several intruders who wore the threads of black magic as thick as woolen cloaks. She dove for her mattress and reached underneath the straw pallet for the engraved bone knife Ulrich had given her as a wedding gift. She reached for the protective spells, pulled them to her and knotted them together to create a more powerful barrier. As she wove her magic, she noticed a black thread hanging from her fingertip, a remnant of the black magic tied to Ulrich. She shook the thread off in an attempt to protect her spells from its dark influence but the thread would not leave her. As if the magic had a life of its own, the thread wound about her hand, pulling her own threads with it, corrupting the white magic. 

The End

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