(Dwarves’ point of view)

Once upon a time, there was a tragedy.

BOOM, CLASH.

Lightning flashed across the late evening sky. The mountains were briefly illuminated, showing the three dwarves the familiar trail they had taken for so many years. But they didn’t need the storm’s gleaming light to help them, nor was a lantern required. They knew it by heart, every rock, every crack in the beaten trail.

And right now, with their brethren fighting the Queen, she would be on their heels soon, much sooner than they’d like. The darkness, which was usually frightening from the things hiding within, was their friend tonight.

The nameless dwarf in the front did not anticipate a fallen tree. He tripped over the wet wood. The coffin resting on his back fell, but he caught it just in time before it hit the ground.

“Are yeh alright?” the middle dwarf huffed.

He grumbled, struggling to get to his feet. The Queen had stabbed his thigh earlier with her dagger. The fiery pain shooting up his leg hurt like hell. “Yeh. Is the coffin okay?”

They felt the glass top since they could barely see it. On cue, lightning cracked again, showing them its condition for a few seconds.

“It looks fine. We need to hurry. Keep going,” the third dwarf in the back ushered.

“Ahhhh!” a very distant scream echoed in the valley, reaching near the top of their mountain. It was the pitiful, pained sound of a dying creature before taking its final breath.

The three paused mid-step, rain pounding, soaking their blood-stained clothes. They were stunned that they had recognized one of their brother’s wail.

“It wasn’t... supposed to be this way,” the middle dwarf teared up. “We were happy. We were thriving. Why now?”

“I don’t know. Keep goin,’ keep climbing,” the leader said, voice hoarse, throat so tight from holding in a cry that wanted to erupt, to grieve for their close-knit family.

But he couldn’t. That would give away their location. And if their location was revealed, the Queen...

The trio hurried, feeling the path with their feet. They were more careful of fallen branches and rocks that had tumbled from above. The storm was getting worse. Strong winds howled in their ears.

Finally, they reached the part where they’d venture off, heading to their secret location. It didn’t look any different from the thick forest surrounding it, which was almost too thick to trek through from lack of recent maintenance. No one knew where their mine resided in this mountain strip. It was full of endless diamonds and precious metals, items that their species loved to collect and make weapons.

The complicated tunnel system they had built over the years went so deep into the earth, that anyone who entered would surely get lost and meet an unfortunate end—falling into the pits of caves, impaled by sudden sharp stalactites hanging from low ceilings, and so on.

That was where they were going.

The wet soil was slippery, and they almost lost their footing several times. The coffin bumped around haphazardly, disturbing the person inside.

“Careful!” the front seethed.

“Speak for yehself! Yeh be careful!”

After what seemed like a lifetime, they found the entrance to the cave-turned-mine. There was a layer of vines over it, strategically weaved to look natural and insignificant to any wanderers.

Pushing the vine curtain aside, the mine was dry and pitch black.

The third wheezed, “I can't hold on much longer. My stomach…”

“Stop it. We’re all hurt,” the first scolded. “Think of our four fallen brothers. Their deaths can’t be in vain. We must finish this. Now.”

“I at least want to see where I’m walking…”

“Ugh, always complaining, even in this situation. We have a lantern somewhere around here.”

Pausing to find it, the light source was found and lit. A small fire flickered the narrow, rocky wall, full of holes from diamonds once wedged in them. Those glistening jewels were picked off and sold when the seven dwarves were in their prime.

They could barely stand to look at their friend. It was terrible. It was a tragedy. It just shouldn’t have happened!

“K-keep… keep… goin’ further.”

And keep going, they did. Going deeper. Going until the temperature decreased. Going until on the brink of collapse.

The last dwarf’s arms began shaking, the weight of the fragile box they held affecting him. He looked down, seeing the trail of his blood behind them. His head was going dizzy, feeling lightheaded and sick. That witch got him good.

My belly… is this what it feels like to be dying? he thought.

Eventually, they reached the place where they would temporarily store the coffin. It was a small, handmade room. Over time, they picked it with a pickaxe because they discovered a smorgasbord of colorful diamonds.

The three gently placed the coffin on the table that they kept down there and brushed off the tools.

And when they made sure their friend was okay from the journey, they all sighed and patted the top sadly.

“We'll be back. It won’t take long.”

The dwarves, wounded and exhausted, left to continue the fight near their small cottage.

But no one returned.

***

(33 years later)

(Taerynn’s point of view)

It was nighttime. The dark elf walked along a trail that had once been used but was now overrun with weeds, bushes, and young trees. His black feathered cape kept getting caught in the plants, and his boots sloshed in mud from the recent storm.

“Hmm,” he hummed, scanning the area.

It’s here. I can sense i—

CRACK.

His foot stepped on bones. It was a decomposed body. The elf studied the skeleton wearing tattered clothes, noting the rusty insignia pins on the jacket. There was a sword, too.

That corpse was a prince from some faraway land who had met an unknown end. It didn’t look like the bones were broken from any attacking predators... well, except for the one leg he had accidentally crushed.

And it wasn’t the first body of a prince or knight he had found on this vast mountainous range within the last 22 hours. No, this was the...

Seventeenth. I'm sure there are more on this damned land.

He had heard rumors of the cursed area, poisoning those who only sought to find the lost princess somewhere, waiting to be woken up from some mysterious sleep.

From what he heard, no one believed such farce speculations of curses. Mana was rare nowadays. What sort of mountain would be covered in it, a commodity so scarce? And what type of monster could cast such a large blanket of Black mana? No one knew the story behind that, making it unbelievable.

But I know it is not merely a rumor.  

Being a dark elf himself, he could sense the Black mana oozing within each little leaf, piece of bark, and speck of dirt. Not even animals lived here, except maybe dark fae creatures. Even then, there were no threatening beasts around, either.

The curse did not affect him, as he was not there for the fabled princess. No, there was another item he desired.

He checked his gold pocket watch. It contained a secret. The dial read 9:00. There were only two hours left before 11:11. All Hallows Eve would end soon when the veil between the living and the dead was thinnest.

Once the hands struck the synchronized time, he had to go back, unable to return to the mortal realm until the next year on the same day. His own curse made it that way.

I must find it before then.

Twenty minutes passed, continuing on the old trail that didn't even resemble a path anymore.

“Here.”

The elf stopped, turning his head slowly to the left. The whispers. They were calling to him, beckoning like a siren to a lover. Following the indistinct murmurs growing louder, the way eventually ended. The mountain wall was buried in an impenetrable layer of vines upon vines. He raised a hand, long fingernails grazing over them.

“Move,” he commanded, wincing. 

Talking wasn’t necessary to use simple mana like this, but he needed an extra emphasis to make it work. An unsteady amount of energy trickled from his soul core, unbearably painful ever since...

Don't think about that.

The vines trembled, leaves rustling. The meaty growth split apart from the center, layers as thick as his arm. If someone found it, an average sword would take a long time to cut through it. A hidden cave entrance was revealed, shaped wider by the people who had dug there. A wind draft brushed his hair from his face. The air was stale and musty. Without hesitation, he went in, footsteps echoing.

When the moonlight couldn’t reach inside anymore, he snapped his fingers. A ball of gray light shimmered in his palm. It allowed him to see ahead in the thin tunnel. Spiderwebs of enormous size weaved in the corners. He eyed the fuzzy, interwoven threads. Those were not from ordinary spiders. It looked old. 

Keeping his guard up, he mentally noted where his sword was exactly in its hilt.

The whispers grew more aggressive. It chanted faster. Deeper he went. The temperature dropped, not like he cared. His realm was much more frigid than this, enough to make a mortal get frostbite in minutes.

Down he went. Over crumbling bridges. Past the diamond piles on the ground, separated into colors. Taking the hand-carved stairs. Weaving through a challenging labyrinth of passageways that reminded him of home.

Down.

Down.

It seems the curse caused by my Mirror shard only affected here. I’ve been declining down the same flights of stairs for the past few hours.

Down.

Down. Finally, a new part of the cave, bypassing the repeating area.

Dow—

He halted and turned his lit-up hand to the right. There was a boulder purposely placed there. Dust coated the top of it. Taking a large breath, he summoned his mana with a curled lip, knowing the act would be uncomfortable to do. Already, his chest ached in agony.

“Roll.”

The huge rock groaned and moved. On the other side was a room, not much bigger than a closet. He raised an eyebrow when he saw what was inside on a web-covered table.

That... is unexpected.

The long box was obscured with lichens and algae, but it was clearly a coffin.

Here, the whispers called.

Taking a wary step, he approached the coffin, reaching out to wipe away the top. The material was smooth underneath, not scratchy like the normal wooden ones to bury the dead.

Glass?

It was indeed glass.

He leaned and peered inside, holding his glowing mana orb above. A body was peacefully lying inside with their arms across over their chest—black hair, red lips, pale skin, and simply beautiful, even by elvish standards. 

Given the very detailed description he had heard so much about, the elf knew who this was—Snow White.

But... you are not a princess. Nor are you dead. Interesting. 

What was more confusing was that he found the item. It was coming from the coffin—no—it was coming from him. There was complicated mana protecting the coffin, protecting the supposed prince inside, forever stuck in a coma-like slumber while waiting for their “true love's first kiss.”

Now that was a fantasy. 

There was no such thing as true love. It only brought misfortune and death. 

It was now 11:08. He had to hurry before his curse took effect. There was no time to figure out why Snow White gave off the energy he had spent the last three years on the hunt for, combing this side of the country.

Opening the unique coffin carefully, he eyed the resting boy wearing clothes that didn’t belong to a commoner—a satin white shirt and black high-waisted pants—as if just recently laid to rest, never aging or looking a day older than twenty. 

Despite going missing 33 years ago.

He picked him up, cradling Snow White in his arms like a sack of potatoes.

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP.

Your heartbeat. Yes, you are definitely not dead.

He chucked the pocket watch. Before it clanged to the ground, the device glowed more radiantly than the sun. The shape changed, and the metal broke. The mirror underneath the lid grew and grew until it became the size of an oval door.

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, show me where I want to go most of all."

His reflection warped into a swirling circle. The image became a portal to his realm, Myrkrheim—the afterlife for malicious fae creatures.

Where he, King Taerynn, ruled it all.

He eyed the flickering mirror with disdain, which should not be flashing like that. The long crack across it was the reason why he could only teleport on this very day once a year.

The Magic Mirror.

King Taerynn stepped into the oval, carrying his fascinating find. When he passed through, the golden-framed doorway evaporated into smoke.

11:11.