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Eron’s concerned face fills my vision. I smile as I lift my hand to cup his cheek. “You are a floating head,” I whisper. “Am I back in the Hallows?”

He shakes his head, and the murky edges of my vision clear to reveal the rest of his body. “Poseidon left, Daphne, but I could not return you until you gained consciousness.”

“I passed out?” I drop my hand and rise to my elbows to take stock of where I am. Still in the throne room. How embarrassing that I fainted.

“Not uncommon when dealing with Idol oaths. They are a lot for a soul as delicate and perfect as yours.”

I snort. “Delicate Daphne? I believe that is the first and most likely the last time I will ever be associated with such a word.”

Eron offers me a hand, and I clutch it to drag myself to my feet.

“Delicate doesn’t mean weak,” Eron says with a smile as he tucks a curl behind my ear that must have pulled free of my braids.

“It’s resilience wrapped in grace. The finest silken petals of a flower can withstand the strength of a storm.

True strength lies in the ability to bend but not break.

Being delicate is knowing when to yield and when to stand firm.

It’s the power of a whisper heard over a shout.

You are rare, fragile to the touch, yet enduring beyond expectation.

You don’t have to be loud to be strong, or forceful to be unstoppable. Delicate is powerful. Own it.”

My eyes sting as a king no less, declares my place in the realm is not insignificant or a burden. That’s always been a worry I carry beneath the bravado and bluster. “I appreciate you more than you can ever know,” I tell him.

He cocks his head and smiles. “I’m honored to be part of your story, Daphne. Now, I believe we have a date with a cake.”

My stomach rumbles, but the sword in my hand weighs heavily with responsibility. “I think I need to get back, but I would love to return for cake soon.”

He bobs his head. “You are quite right—mission before cake. Plus, I have enough of my own sword-wielding grumpy guards to contend with.”

He leads me out of the room, and we pick up a set of twin shadows. Eron sighs and spins to face them. “Erik, there is no need to follow me. I will return once I have Daphne safely back in the arms of her knights.”

Erik scowls at me like I dropped his sausages in a vat of bunkum poop. I roll my eyes. “I swear, I am just trying to leave,” I tell him.

Erik nods once and snaps his gaze to the other guard. They fall back, and we begin our trek out of the castle, gaining more of those curious stares as we ascend the hill. I marvel at the lakes beneath my booted feet.

“Will you become confused again once I leave?” I wonder.

Eron presses his lips together. “I would imagine so. The original mirror’s state has warped my consciousness. Perhaps I will return to full health when I find those shards.”

I grab his arm and turn him to face me. “I vow to make it my mission to find them.”

He nods as his eyes mist. “Thank you, Daphne. You loved me in my lesser state, and that is a precious gift.”

The mirror emerges in the center of the lake, glinting under the pale moonlight.

My heart pounds as I clutch the legendary sword, Excalibur.

The gleaming blade feels heavy in my trembling hands, a testament to the power it holds.

Before me, the air shimmers with an otherworldly chill.

Out of the surface of the lake, a woman arises, her sleek blonde hair falling over her shoulders.

She wears a striking red dress paired with black tights, her appearance as sharp and deliberate as the maliciousness burning in her eyes.

Beside me, Eron strides forward, his presence steady and commanding. “Malice, you are a traitor and a plague. You will pay for your deeds tonight,” he says, his tone calm yet urgent.

The woman’s blue eyes flick to me, a predatory gleam igniting in their depths.

“Poor little Daphne,” she taunts, her voice dripping with mockery.

“A maiden playing outside of her league. Did you really think such brave knights could ever love a creature like you, and did you truly think you could wield that?”

My grip tightens on the hilt, knuckles white. Who is this girl?

“Ignore her, Daphne. Malice is trying to get inside your head. It’s what she does best, stealing the best bits of people because she herself is evil incarnate.”

I raise Excalibur. Nobody is taking my knights or my sword. “They are mine, as is this sword.”

She laughs, a sound as sharp and cold as shattering glass. “Oh, darling, it’s not about what’s yours or mine. It’s about who deserves it. And you? You can barely stand without tripping over your own feet.”

Eron steps in front of me, his hands raised as an orb of light forms between them. “You’ll go no further, Malice.”

Her laugh deepens, turning into something guttural and chilling.

With a flick of her wrist, a surge of dark energy barrels toward us.

It collides with Eron, sending him sprawling across the surface of the lake, ripples spreading beneath his motionless form.

“Pathetic,” she mutters, her focus returning to me.

Before I can respond, she lunges. The lake erupts into chaos as I raise Excalibur to block the oncoming strike. Sparks explode as her jagged dagger clashes against the blade, forcing me back. I stumble, the water rippling beneath me as I catch my footing just in time to stay upright.

Malice presses the advantage, her movements fluid and predatory. Each strike she delivers seems designed to mock my inexperience, forcing me into a desperate, awkward defense. Excalibur’s brilliance dims under her relentless assault.

I find myself cornered with the mirror looming behind me, its surface rippling unnaturally.

Sweat drips into my eyes as I gasp for breath, my arms burning from the weight of the sword.

Her dagger nicks my shoulder, tearing through the fabric of my tunic and drawing blood.

I cry out, but her triumphant laugh drowns out the sound.

“Give it up, Daphne!” she sneers. “This was never your fight. You are simply the first foolish girl he risked bringing here.”

Gritting my teeth, I swing the sword with all my might.

She sidesteps effortlessly, her hand darting out to grip my wrist. With a brutal twist, she disarms me.

Excalibur clatters into the water, floating briefly before sinking below the surface, its once-mighty glow now a faint flicker.

This lake is clearly deeper than I realize, but I guess the magic that keeps us above it, doesn’t stretch to swords—no matter how special they are.

“You were never worthy,” she hisses, snatching up the sword. I sense the moment Excalibur’s power leaves me and pulses as if resisting her touch, but she holds firm, her dark power overwhelming its protest.

I lunge for her, desperation overriding my exhaustion, but she’s ready. With a mocking bow, she steps backward into the mirror. Its surface swallows her like water, rippling and glowing as she disappears with Excalibur.

“No!” I scream, diving after her. My hands strike the mirror’s solid, unyielding surface. I pound on it, my breath fogging the icy surface.

On the other side, Malice emerges into the chambers. The knights gasp, their expressions shifting to awe and relief. My sister, Gwyneth, rushes forward.

“Daphne, you’re back!” Gwyneth exclaims, throwing her arms around Malice, who wears my face like a mask. Malice smiles sweetly, her voice a perfect mimicry.

“Yes, I’m here. And I have Excalibur,” she says, lifting the blade. The knights erupt in cheers, oblivious to the truth.

Hart steps forward, his face glowing with admiration. Malice grabs him by the collar, spinning him around. Before he can react, she pulls him into a kiss. Everyone falls into a stunned silence.

Over his shoulder, Malice meets my gaze through the mirror. Her lips curl into a cruel smile, her eyes gleaming. She raises a single finger to her lips in mocking silence.

I scream, my fists slamming against the glass. “No, that’s not me. Please, look at me.” My cries go unheard. My sister and the knights don’t even glance my way.

I bang harder, my screams growing hoarse, but the mirror remains unyielding, the cold surface mocking me. I wait for them to realize they have an imposter in their midst, but it never comes to pass. My fists ache, my voice falters, and despair claws at my chest.

Gwyneth is at her side, the knights each looking at her with love and adoration she did not earn. The sight burns hotter than any wound Malice inflicted.

Malice’s gaze locks onto mine again, her expression twisted in triumph. She tilts her head, almost playfully, and mouths three words through the glass. You are nothing.

My legs buckle, and I sink onto the lake’s surface. The cold seeps through me, chilling me to my core. Tears blur my vision, and the world on the other side feels like a dream I can no longer touch. My chest heaves, each breath a battle.

But as Malice turns away, something stirs in the depths of the mirror. The faintest shimmer, like light caught on water, ripples outward. It’s small, almost imperceptible, but it’s there—a flicker of hope.

A voice, soft and distant, whispers through the stillness, “The reflection bends, but it does not break.”

I blink, frozen. The voice is gone as quickly as it came, leaving me staring at my distorted reflection in the glass. My hands tremble as I press them against the surface once more, my resolve hardening despite the futility.

Malice spins in a circle, Excalibur gleaming in her grasp. “To new beginnings!” she declares, her voice ringing through their chambers. The knights roar their approval.

But as they cheer, I whisper to the mirror, my voice steady despite the tears still streaming down my face. “They’ll see through you, Malice, and if they don’t, I’ll stalk you through the realm. Every mirror you find will wear my face. There’s no escaping me.”

The lake beneath me hums faintly, and for a moment, the mirror ripples as if acknowledging my vow.

Malice pauses mid-step, her smile faltering. She glances back at the mirror, her brow creasing for the briefest of moments. Weak, she mouths before dismissing me with a wave of her hand.

My eyes narrow. I’m not weak, Malice.

Eron’s words hum in my veins. Delicate is powerful. Own it.