One moment I stood before the long mirror in the royal chamber, pinning my hair over the pale points of bone at my temples. The next, the woman reflected in the glass lowered her hands while mine remained raised.

The difference lasted less than a heartbeat. Long enough.

I froze with one silver pin between my fingers. The reflection smiled. I did not.

Behind me, spectral candles bent toward the mirror. Their blue flames thinned until the room looked underwater. On the floor, my shadow stretched from my bare feet to the black frame of the glass.

Then it stood up.

Not fully. Darkness gathered where no body existed, lifting from the obsidian in the suggestion of shoulders, throat, and a crown too tall to be mine. The shape turned its head toward the door as if listening.

“No,” I said.

The shadow stepped through the mirror.

Cold passed over my skin. The reflection became ordinary again: dark hair half pinned, black veins under brown skin, gold threaded through them, bone crown hidden badly beneath stubborn curls. No second woman. No smile.No shadow at my feet.