Chapter 3

3

W hat a strange wedding day… I am seated in the front row, unable to comprehend the sight of my mother standing alongside my greatest fear. The nave of the church is dressed in reflections, ornate mirrors and polished silver decorating the space…

The nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach does not fade as my mother stares into the eyes of the king who has killed so many. No , it seems to grow worse with each word she utters.

“ I promise my heart to you, King Balor? —”

Does she not see the darkness surrounding the king? The smell of rot and decay seeping from his pores. He smells like death, but it seems that I am the only one who feels uneasy. No one else appears to see the gleam in his eyes as my mother hands him the keys to the kingdom before their vows draw to an end.

That gleam frightens me even more when he turns his gaze from my mother to look straight at me. This is the first time I’ve seen Balor , the King of Wylan , an utter brute of a man who looks like a bear squeezed into fine silk, in person. But his eyes look wrong, they hold no color except a metallic gray. They look like mirrors…

I tear my eyes away, stopping on one of the many mirrors that line the walls as decoration. Balor must have forced my mother to have them put up because she usually has better taste. I look at myself in the mirror and shiver because, for just a second, I see my reflection mouthing something I cannot hear yet somehow understand. She is telling me to run.

The moment the officiant pronounces them husband and wife, the world explodes. Fearful gasps pull my gaze from the many mirrors, only for me to wish I had listened when she told me to run. I stand frozen as I watch the new King of Arcelia plunge a dagger into my mother’s throat.

Chaos erupts around me, but my eyes are locked on my mother as she lets out a soundless scream. Their lips are still touching as blood pours from my mother's throat. I see the dagger, curved and wicked, ripping through my mother’s soft skin.

Her white gown quickly turns crimson as he nearly cuts off her head. The way he flourishes the dagger sends a spray of blood into the priest’s face just before the point is driven into his eye. The priest and my mother fall into a heap on the ground.

The world seems to slow down around me as I stand frozen; the only thing I can hear is a ringing in my ears. Hands land on my shoulders and forcefully turn me away from the horrific scene. Charlotte stands in front of me, wide eyed and screaming, but it takes what feels like forever to hear what she is saying.

“ Run , Princess !”

I’m shocked out of my daze by the deafening screams around me. I look around, my eyes widening as I watch the mirrors all over the room shatter, turning into swirling portals of shimmering glass. Wylan soldiers begin pouring through, cutting down any who try to resist. But that isn’t what catches me so off guard. It’s the fact that every single soldier looks identical: dull gray skin, emotionless faces, and eyes like balls of glass.

Through my shock, I feel Charlotte dragging me toward the doors. Roaring laughter jerks my gaze back to the new king, and I see mother's blood dripping down his face, his blade held high above him.

“ Arcelia falls tonight!” His gaze finds me in the chaos, and his smile turns sinister before he shouts, “ Worship me!”

The room erupts with replies of, “ All hail our God , King Balor !”

I take in the room around me and realize the only people who reply are the king’s undead soldiers. Blood covers the wooden floors as my eyes meet the king’s once more. He steps down from the altar and yells, “ You cannot run from a God .” Someone screams beside me, followed by the sound of more glass breaking. Looking over, I find Charlotte in Balor's grasp, his blade having pierced her chest.

“ Charlotte !” I scream as her hand slips from mine, and she drops to the ground. Balor's tongue, still covered in my mother's blood, licks Charlotte's ear before he lets her fall.

I can't breathe, my lungs refusing to inhale. The new King of Arcelia smiles down at me with his hypnotic, mirrored eyes. “ You are my prize. The precious Snowflake of Arcelia . Mine to put in a globe and shake as I please.” He runs his thumb over my lips leaving some of my mother’s blood behind. “ I’ll enjoy making your dance atop my miniature tower.”

Fear , pain, and loss twist inside my broken heart, quickly morphing into anger. “ At least you admit that it's miniature—” I hiss as I slap him across the face. He doesn't even move to avoid the impact, but then my arms are wrenched behind my back. “ A little frost bite isn't going to hurt me, Princess .”

Something feels wrong with my legs. I begin to panic when what feels like giant worms slither up my legs, gripping my calves under my dress. I'm forced to my knees, and the way they slowly creep up my bare legs makes me feel somewhere between being tickled and being violated.

I want to laugh, cry, something! My knees crunch against broken glass, cutting through my dress and slicing my skin. I know I'm bleeding, so I look down to check, only to take in what’s happening.

Where Balor's shadows obscure the light; the shattered mirror shards reflect his dark countenance and exude black tendrils that begin to form larger tentacles. Black smoke shifts into liquefied-glass state, reflecting me obscenely upon their surfaces before moving to restrain my arms and slide beneath my dress.

When I look up, cold, reflective eyes are peering down at me. His smile widens as he slides the smooth side of his blade across my jaw and down the center of my chest. He smears my mother’s blood across my skin only to stop at the neckline of my dress. I see him tremble with excitement, and it makes my stomach twist. “ I do hope you bleed as beautifully as your mother did. I wonder if your screams will be as delightful.”

I let out a screech as he drags the knife down the center of my dress, parting it to reveal my undergarments, and I stare down in horror at the tentacles of mirrored glass that wrap around my waist. I want to cover myself, but my hands are restrained, so I'm forced to watch the tentacles push up under my bra. I try not to make a sound, not wanting to give him any satisfaction, but I can't help my squeal of surprise when my bra is ripped apart.

I close my eyes, feeling the tentacles wrap around my breasts. They squeeze, and I feel something I’ve never felt before: a pressure growing just below my stomach. It doesn’t feel bad, and that terrifies me.

Balor steps closer to me, the smell of iron overwhelming. He runs the tip of the knife down my chest to my abdomen, stopping just above that strange sensation.

“ Are you going to kill me?” I whisper.

“ Why would I kill a prize like you? No .” He drags the knife back up to my breast before saying, “ I’m going to have my fun with you.” He presses the tip of the blade into my nipple just hard enough to be uncomfortable but without drawing blood.

“ Scream for me.”

He digs the knife in further, and I bite my lip so hard I taste blood as I attempt to keep the scream inside. He laughs and removes the knife. “ Still have some fight left in you, I see. Good , you will be fun to break.”

When the pain subsides, I glare up at him. “ Never !”

He licks my blood from his knife and grins. “ Never say never, Little Snowflake . You will break, just like your mother did, all you need is time.”

“ I’ll die before I let you break me,” I sneer.

He shrugs and walks away, calling over his shoulder, “ You will break either mentally or physically. It matters not which it is.” He gives me a wicked wink. “ I do hope you last long enough for me to give you to my son, though.”

With a gesture, Balor commands his tentacles to move. I squirm as they lift me off the ground, a single tendril sliding under what remains of my undergarments with a soft snap. Then I am left naked several feet in the air.

I look down and see a wriggling pile of tentacles on the ground, a hundred reflections of my body made into something monstrous. It moves forward, randomly grabbing at the ground to pull it, and me, toward the doors of the chapel. The tentacles clutching my body tighten with every little movement, the ones on my breasts sliding over my nipples.

Don't feel it, I think, don't make a sound . I try to focus on anything besides the tingles of sensation traveling down my body. How can he say such cruel things? Treat me like an object, a toy to give his son after he does… what? What is he going to do to me? Why do my legs feel cold… and wet?

Balor stares at the giant double doors, continuing his villainous monologue without even turning to look at me. “ Yes , my son will appreciate you as much as I will, especially after I've trained you to be a good bride for him.” He twists his hand in a gesture, and the tips of the tentacles holding my hips move further between my legs.

I cry out as they vibrate against a part of me I never thought about. The sensation makes my brain burn, an explosion that makes everything fade away for just a moment. When the world comes back into focus, my stomach twists at the sound of Balor's laughter.

“ That won't be too hard to accomplish.”

Tears run down my cheeks, and I keep my gaze pointed on the floor. I barely register the horror that crawls out of the pile of tentacles below me as skeleton arms rip their way free from the mass, a skull made of glass silently screaming as it fights its way out. The shape is hard to see through my puffy eyes from sobbing, but when something sharp like needles scratches my feet, I turn my focus on it.

I recognize the crystalline copy of a bear pelt covering the skeleton's back. The fur is made from thin glass needles, and I cannot lift my legs to keep them from poking my toes. I remember seeing a man like this once, a huntsman who was hired to travel with my father.

Giant bone fingers seem to reach for Balor , only to move past him and grip the doors. They are ripped apart in a frenzy that causes the skeletal huntsman to shatter. The new king walks to the chapel, me following behind against my will.

When I manage to peer through the wide-open doors leading out of the chapel, I let out a gasp. The once luscious lands of rolling green grass and colorful flowers are now a monochromatic wasteland. My kingdom… My family… Gone … All in a matter of minutes.

“ I do hope you love the change of scenery,” he taunts with a laugh. After walking down the steps, Balor stops. Something else begins to take shape from within the mass of tentacles, something not as horrifying. The shape of a woman rises, and I can’t help but gasp at her beauty.

Her face, crafted in mirrored skin, looks at me with sadness. Her body is stretched, seeming to melt endlessly back into the wriggling pile beneath me. She moves around me, removing the tentacles that hold me.

Yet I do not fall, my restrained arms shifting from behind me. The strange mirror-woman holds my hands, manipulating my arms to stretch out, as her body curves into a seated position. There I sit, on display, staring down at what remains of my people.

Glass soldiers made from the broken mirrors corral them and force them to look up at me. “ Why ?” I whisper. Balor hears me, though, walking back up the steps with his dagger pointed toward me. He taps the underside of my chin with the tip of the blade.

“ You will find that in this world there are no such things as heroes and villains. There are people who let their morality dictate if they do something or not. They often let things go, blaming their morals. Then there are those who do what needs to be done no matter their morals.”

“ Which one are you?” I ask, genuinely wanting to know why he is such a monster. Balor's smile fades away, and he stares into my eyes for a long time before he replies.

" A hero would have married your mother, promised you peace and strength. A hero would have loved you like a daughter, raised you to be just as good. A hero would not have hired a huntsman to assassinate your father.”

Balor tosses the dagger away. For just a moment, I think I see… something in his eyes. But then the mirrored finish fades, and I look into human eyes filled with… nothing. Completely void of emotion. He grips my throat, whispering in my ear as spittle sprays onto my cheek.

“ A villain would fuck you right here, force these people watch as I make you scream. A villain would slit your throat, drink your blood, and laugh. A villain would sit on the throne and make you their queen on a leash.”

With a wave of his hand, the glass soldiers massacre my people below. The blood of men, women, and children sprays everywhere, desecrating the church steps. I scream and beg for him to stop, but he doesn't. They stab, slash, and stomp until nothing remains but bloody piles of meat smeared across the ground.

When they eventually stop, and the ringing in my ear fades, Balor speaks, his voice empty of all emotion.

“ I am neither.”

Darkness falls upon the Kingdom of Arcelia, leaving behind nothing but a barren wasteland because of a heartless king's whims. Rot gives way to much harsher forms of life, weeds and thorny vines creeping across the once lush landscape. Empty cities turn to overgrown ruins, save for the castle that was once my home… Now nothing more than a tomb of my broken innocence.