The stone walls of the north tower were cold, and the single barred window barely let in any moonlight. Elira sat on a worn bench, her wrists sore from the iron shackles. Her mind raced, torn between panic and disbelief.
A mirror… a kingdom… a cursed prince… and now possibly a death sentence.
She buried her face in her hands.
Then — a creak.
The iron door groaned open.
She looked up, expecting guards again. But instead, he walked in.
Him.
The prince from the mirror.
He wore a deep navy tunic embroidered with silver threads, a dark cloak sweeping behind him. Two guards flanked him outside the doorway, but with a flick of his hand, he said, "Stay out. I won't be long."
The door shut.
Silence stretched for a moment as he studied her from across the room.
"You really don't kneel, do you?" he finally said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"I've had a long night," Elira muttered. "I'm too tired to play princess and prisoner."
He chuckled lightly and walked closer, hands behind his back. "You're either brave or foolish to speak to royalty like that."
"Considering I got arrested for just breathing here, I don't see the point in holding back."
His silver eyes glinted. "Fair enough."
He circled her slowly, like a cat watching something interesting — not quite dangerous, not quite harmless.
"You said you saw me in the mirror," he said softly.
Elira stood straighter. "Yes. Right before I got pulled into it."
"What did you see?"
"Your face," she replied. "You looked… sad. And kind of furious at the same time. It lasted only a second."
"Hm," he mused, stepping closer. "It's rare for anyone to look into the mirror and come out alive. Even rarer to see me in it. Do you always dream of mysterious men before bed, or am I the first?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Is this how you interrogate all your prisoners?"
He smirked. "Only the interesting ones."
Elira crossed her arms. "You don't seem very cursed for a cursed prince."
"Ah," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "that's because you haven't seen me after sunset."
Her breath caught for a moment, not sure if he was joking — but he wasn't.
"You said you came through the mirror. But that mirror was sealed centuries ago," he continued. "So either fate is playing games… or you're lying very convincingly."
"I'm not lying," she said firmly. "I didn't ask to come here. I just touched the mirror and—boom. Time-travel, fantasy-land, now I'm in chains."
He looked her over carefully. "You're not dressed like a noble. Not a thief. Not a warrior. Not even a witch..."
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.
"So what are you, mirror girl?"
"Human," she shot back. "Last time I checked."
He chuckled again, but there was something else in his gaze now. Curiosity. Hesitation. Maybe even recognition.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Elira."
"Elira," he repeated, letting it roll off his tongue like a test. "Pretty. Sounds foreign. Dangerous."
She raised an eyebrow. "And yours?"
He smirked. "If I told you, you might start dreaming of me again."
"Oh, please," she scoffed. "I already regret the first dream."
His laughter echoed in the stone room. "You'll fit in here better than you think."
A pause.
Then he turned toward the door.
"Rest, Elira. The king may see you again tomorrow. And if you're lucky… you'll still be breathing by the end of it."
Before she could ask what he meant, he slipped out the door.
But just as it closed, she heard him say to his guards—
"Don't harm her. Not yet."