#92 An End to Prophecy

by Amara Royce, Guest Writer

“Come here to me, girlie. I have a thing to show ye.”

Izzy shook her head, braids swinging violently, and then hid herself in my skirts. Grown men quaked when the Dowager Warburton called upon them. Who could blame my poor child for her reluctance?

“It’s all right, darling. Go ahead.” I detached her gently and walked her forward. The intertwined scents of lilac and mold took up residence in my nostrils. Despite my rising nausea, I had to convince Izzy the Dowager was safe.

“Here, gel, I’ve a looking glass for ye!”

I froze. Her glance speared me, demanding silence.

Izzy’s shoulders slid from my grasp as she stepped forward. Dear, innocent Isabella. She took the mirror obediently and peered into it. For a moment, I saw the fascination in her reflection. Then the surface darkened to a vision only she could see.

“No!” she cried. I’d never heard such conviction in her voice. Ever. The glass thudded on the carpet as she ran from the room sobbing.

The mirror was irretrievably fractured yet intact, some unseen force holding the broken pieces together.

“We agreed, Your Grace, that she is far too young to learn her fate!”

“Circumstances have changed since our agreement. She needed to know.” At least the old witch had finally dropped pretenses.

“What has changed? Can we save her?” I dared not hope.

“No, we cannot.” The eyes that met mine confessed resignation. “But now that she knows, she can perhaps save herself.”