Tired from her fright, Margaret ran up to her father’s bedroom. A single, warm candle flame lit the white room and reflected off the golden blankets. She slipped under the covers and fell asleep feeling safe.When she awoke the next morning, she thought it had been a nightmare. The king did not believe the tale either. They slowly edged down the stairs until they reached the door to the library; it was wide open. He drew the curtains back, letting the sun finally enter the room. The pair reeled back from the sight in horror. The light revealed that the walls had been painted red not with paint, but blood. A beam directed their eyes to the center of the room where the stepmother lied, knife still in her stiff hand.

Composure regained, they dragged the body toward the already unlocked cellar and tossed it down the stairs. Once they heard the last thud echo, they slammed the door shut. They locked the door with a servant’s key and slid it through the gap, preventing future eyes from ever peering into the darkness.

The king and his lonely princess hastily packed their bags and returned to the castle. When questioned about the disappearances of the queen and two princesses, the king said they had terrible accidents which prompted their early departure. Years passed and the story was forgotten. The king died of old age and Margaret grew up to take over the throne and guide her kingdom to the light.