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“There are those who doubt my right to rule, those who say my daughter is old enough to be queen, that she should take my throne. Tell me Moira, does my daughter threaten my reign?” said the Queen with a terrible gleam in her eyes.

Moira’s eyes closed as vertigo washed over her. She stood in her glade as fog swirled about her. Slowly a breeze blew the fog away, revealing Eirwyn astride a great white horse, crowned with an ornate tiara of silver and glass leaves. A nobleman approached her on a black horse. The man wore a white tabard adorned with a red rose over his shining armor. When he reached the princess he took her hand and laid a gentle kiss upon it.

“Victory is ours, my queen.” said the stranger. Eirwyn smiled sadly and turned to face the company of men who rode behind her.

“My noble champions,” rang her voice, clear and strong, “Today marks the end of my mother’s tyranny. While I celebrate the end to her reign for the sake of my people, my heart is heavy with grief for the woman who gave me life. Tonight we feast, both in victory and in sorrow.”

Moira was pulled away from her niece, back to her glass forest and the magic mirror. The Queen stood on the other side, impatiently awaiting her answer.

The words came unbidden to Moira’s lips, “Eirwyn will soon be queen, crowned in silver and enchanted glass.”

The queen’s features darkened. She let out a feral scream, smashing her goblet against the wall and staining her scarlet robes an even deeper red. She pulled her hair and wildly crossed the room, flinging glass and overturning furniture. In Moira’s forest, the sky grew dark and the glass leaves tinkled as a strong wind blew. The Queen’s guards fussed about her, trying to calm her rage.

The End

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