Reflection

Slow, unsure steps. The cold was shooting up through the skin of her bare feet onto her nerves. She could barely make out the shadows that fell on the walls that enclosed her. The room seemed endless, as if she had to walk on forever. Her dress hung limply on her shoulders and the frills cascaded down her legs.

She stopped.

Of course it was cold: she had been walking on a mirror. A mirror that streched for miles, reaching to the unseen ends of the dark room. The silent, stabbing rush that had captivated her while walking faded away. The world stood still - everything had paused, as she stared back at herself.
It had to be the clearest image, as if on smooth crystal. The darkness of the room did not hide it, in fact, the reflection was the only thing that lighted up the place. She stared at awe into that ageless face, into those bright eyes - her very own - that looked back at her. The image's lips were pulled back to the smallest, calm smile.

She couldn't believe it. Here she was - in a weary condition, and her reflection showed the opposite.

Footsteps echoed through the room, and he walked in. Dark robes covered him. He, too, had an ageless face. His eyes shone with some sort of serenity that had a mysterious highlighted glare to them.
"Look at her," he commanded in a smooth, clear tone.

She looked back at her reflection. It still held enough brightness to light up the room. Before the man spoke again, she knew what was happening.

"I'll take it all away."
"No."

But before the protest had even risen to her lips, the glass beneath her cracked. The reflection shattered, and sharp bits cut dug into her bare feet. The image was gone, its place was smeared with red instead.

And once more, darkness took over the room.