The Mirror – A Dark Retelling of Vanity, Power, and Redemption

Chapter One: The Forbidden Descent

I always knew I wasn’t supposed to go down there. But curiosity, that wicked companion, gnawed at me year after year until, at last, I gave in.

Every year on this very day, my mother would vanish into the depths of the eastern wing of our castle — down, down, down into the cold cellar where even servants dared not tread. I was done wondering. I needed to know what secret waited below. So I prepared for months, learning to move without a sound, practicing in the disused stairwells where no soul ventured.

My dearest friend, Ashley, had sworn on pain of death to help me master silence. She even concocted a sleeping tonic to silence the ever-watchful guard. On the fateful morning, the castle was alive with usual noise, but I watched Mother closely. As expected, she quietly excused herself after breakfast. The King — my distracted stepfather — barely noticed.

Shoeless and cautious, I slipped past the slumbering guard and descended the staircase, each step swallowed by shadow. Torchlight threw trembling silhouettes along the walls, but I was determined. When Mother finally reached the end, she pulled a massive iron key from her pocket and unlocked a grand wooden door, heavy enough to creak and groan with a sound that echoed like thunder. She heaved it open just enough to slip through, but — to my fortune — she didn’t close it.

I waited, heart pounding, then crept forward. The darkened threshold beckoned like a whispered invitation. My breath caught in my throat. This was it — the truth behind the mystery awaited me.

Chapter Two: The Chamber of Secrets

Stepping inside, I was immediately swallowed by darkness. Cautiously, I felt my way forward until I stumbled upon an old chest of drawers. I crouched behind it, eyes slowly adjusting, shapes materializing from the gloom. Shrouded furniture loomed like ghosts, draped in dusty sheets.

Then I saw her — Mother — standing before an imposing oval-shaped object hanging on the far wall. A mirror.

She was trembling. Her breaths shallow and rapid, as if she stood before a predator rather than a piece of glass. Time ticked away relentlessly — somewhere, a clock measured each heavy second.

Suddenly, she drew away the sheet. My hand flew to my mouth, barely silencing my gasp. The mirror was magnificent and terrifying — an ugly beauty that seemed alive.

Mother stepped forward and placed her hand on the glass.

Then, to my horror, a shadowy figure emerged within the mirror, its voice smooth as silk but as venomous as a snake:

“To you, my Queen, I give my loyalty.
For you, my Queen, are highest royalty.
Ask what you wish — I will show you truth reflected.”

Frozen in place, I watched her close her eyes, steadying herself, then she asked:

“Mirror, Mirror, on the wall —
Who is the fairest of them all?”

The figure smiled, its grin unnerving.

“Famed is thy beauty, Majesty.
But hold — a lovely maid I see.
So fair, she is more fair than thee.”

Mother’s face darkened. She demanded the rival’s name.

The mirror replied:

“Lips red as the rose,
Hair black as ebony,
Skin white as snow…
She’s young, but you know her well.”

I felt ice fill my veins. Bianca, Mother whispered — my name.

The mirror continued, its voice dripping malice:

“Your daughter’s beauty will soon surpass your own — unless…”

Unless what? I wanted to scream.

“Unless you destroy her,” the mirror hissed.

I shook, unable to believe what I heard. My own mother? Destroy me?

“No,” she whispered at first. “I won’t do it.”

I wept silently, relief flooding me — until Mother’s trembling voice asked:

“Unless… unless what exactly? Is there a way she can live?”

The figure smiled wider, drawing her closer to the glass, whispering instructions I could not hear.

I had seen enough. My legs carried me in blind panic up the stairs, past the sleeping guard, back to my room where I collapsed in sobbing terror.

Yet I knew — I couldn’t stay paralyzed. I needed help. There was only one person who could help me now — Grandmother.

Chapter Three: Grandmother’s Plan

When I reached Grandmother’s cottage, she was tending her flowers. Seeing me in tears, she embraced me without question. She always believed me — no matter how impossible my words sounded.

When I spoke of the mirror, her expression turned grave.

“That damn mirror,” she muttered. “I feared this day would come.”

She knew. Everyone knew, it seemed — except me. She grabbed an ancient tome, her face set with resolve.

“We must destroy it — now.”

Chapter Four: Gathering the Circle

Grandmother led me into town’s herb district. We gathered a secret circle of women, each holding herbs, crystals, or charms. Some summoned their daughters. All carried purpose in their eyes.

We moved swiftly through town, picking up allies — including Michael, my classmate and one of the best demon-slaying apprentices. When he saw me, he promised, “It’ll be okay. We’ll end this.”

With our group formed, we marched toward the castle. The guards dared not stop Grandmother, even though their eyes brimmed with suspicion.

By the moat, Grandmother turned to us:

“Stay behind us — my granddaughter and I will face her. The rest of you are backup.”

I swallowed my fear. Together, we descended the dark stairway into the cellar once more.

Chapter Five: Confrontation

There she stood — Mother, now a shadow of herself. Her eyes, once sea-green and kind, glowed an unholy emerald. She barely looked human.

“Bella,” Grandmother called. “Step away from that mirror.”

Mother’s laugh was icy.

“You can’t stop me, old woman.”

Grandmother raised the sacred book. Sally gave her a crystal. Others placed tokens of beauty and love — flowers, paintings, a seed.

“These are your truths,” Grandmother said.

I stepped forward.

“And me, Mother. I am your daughter. I love you.”

Her body convulsed as if my words cut deeper than any blade. Around us, the circle chanted, prayed, and sang. The room glowed with the power of unity.

“Look at me, Mother,” I begged, holding her face. “See me.”

At last, her eyes cleared. Recognition flickered. She embraced me, weeping.

Then, with collective strength, we wrenched the cursed mirror from the wall. With a mighty cry, Mother hurled it across the chamber. It shattered into countless shards — the sound of freedom.

Chapter Six: The Reflection We Leave Behind

We defeated the mirror that day, but not the idea it represented. There are mirrors everywhere — some gilded, some invisible — whispering lies about beauty, power, and worth.

We still battle them. But now, I know I am more than a reflection. And so is my mother.

We await our happily ever after — still fighting, still loving, and still hoping.

Moral of the Story:

True beauty comes not from mirrors, but from the love we share and the courage to face ourselves. Vanity corrupts, but love redeems.