The Anti-Fairy Tales Mirror Of The White Demon Arc

Part One

The White Demon's Mirror

Princess Pheoshan woke, it was now the last month in the year and snow fell heavily like on her fathers' kingdom coating it like white icing sugar. It made her smile as she tasted a sour taste of nostalgia for her old life as Alex Fistone. How she used to have snow ball fights with them, knowing what she did about Wolfox she knew that they were dead when he had destroyed the Dream Hell that she grew up in. It may have been a hard pill to swallow but as she looked over the list of the prisoners of the Dream Hells only they were missing.

She still found it strange, that she had slept all that time without any knowledge of her Princess stats and despising the thought of the stereotypes that world concocted. Now that she knew she found that she was still feeling a sting of resentment but she had quickly found that she could be and was her own princess. She could still have fights and not get pampered whenever she did not want it and was able to train with Prince Coalphyre and her brother which had helped her with her fighting and he even taught her different techniques.

Her eyes slid to her mother sleeping sweetly beside her bed, she had given her a warmth that, until she gave it, she did not know she had longed for. Even-though that it was all too clear that she was making up for lost time Pheoshan did not mind for she gave her love that she never knew was absent, like a black hole in the sky is to the naked eye. Her mother had given her so much that even she could not know about, she had given her a light that she had desperately needed. Even-though she would never know it she had given something to her mother too. Something that she had needed too, the assurance that her daughter was safe now and that she had turned out to be something that she could have been proud of.

Then came her father. She genuinely did not know what to make of him. They had not spent that much time together. He seemed to spend more times on other things rather than her. In fact they both did, she spent time either training or having a head in a book to help her learn as much as she could about the real world, however she had caught him looking at her during training with a smile on his lips of some sort.

“My love?” her mother asked as she woke. “Have you come for Pheo?”

Her father nodded as she looked at her as she sat up. His eyes were stern as per usual but there was she could see that they stung with something that she just could not place.

“Pheo, get some cloths on and join me after breakfast in my study.” he said as if he was speaking to a soldier. Her mother gave her father a stern look.

“Artah, she is your daughter not one of your soldiers.” her mother said calmly. Her father smiled.

“Well she might as well be with the way that she fights.” he joked.

“Well she is your daughter and believe me, she is more like you than me.”

With that his eyes were raised as he turned he smiled out of pride as Pheoshan could see a tear fall from her father's cheek. Her mother groaned as she ran off after him. She wondered what that was all about as she started to get out of bed. She looked all around her body still amazed at the fact that she had not even a scratch to remind her of the Dream Hells. She made her way to the wardrobe and put on her brown leather trousers and her thick white dress that had a layer of black lacing. She then took her black boots with a thick medium high heel with a tier-like sole for good grip.

She quickly ait her full English breakfast and drank her deep red wine. Then ran to her father's study and spent a moment to calm herself down and compose herself at the double doors that were incredibly well polished. When she felt she was ready to see him she knocked on them. Her father opened the door and she walked in taking care not to make a fool of herself.

This was the first time that she was in the study so she drank in every single little detail. The room was big but not too big. Her father's desk was at the back with two bookcases beside and a black pantha rug pointing to the portraits of people who she deduced were her ancestors. As she looked back she spotted that there were two swords locked in a cross and two spears locked in the same way but they pointed down and a shield covering where they met. Then her eyes finally rested on a mirror next to the door. It was white with roses moulded into the bizarre white material with their thorny stems that ended at the top where there were two rows of text lay.

Myroh Zina Demohcos

Zina Withale'

“It is Sky Elvish.” said an effeminate male voice. Pheoshan almost screamed as the door closed revealing someone who she thought was dead, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Sythvin!”

“Thought that I had been executed?” he laughed. “Well as soon as your mother found out who it was that had sent you into the Dream Hells we had to stage something.”

He looked at her father and pushed himself off the wall. Pheoshan looked at him as he gave her a black look unnervingly void of emotion. Her eyes darted back at him with angered questions. He smiled as he placed a hand against the keyhole. Pheoshan heard a click.

“Let me show you.” he said as he looked at her father. “Artah, there is a sword behind your desk get it out.”

She could only watch as he pulled out a sword behind the desk. Still there was nothing in his eyes.

“Now point it at your very own throat.”

Suddenly the edge of the blade was now pointing at her father's throat. Pheoshan's eyes the size of an anime' character.

“How are you doing this? No! Why are you doing this?” she asked as the horror of the situation was sinking in. Sythvin was now walking closer to her as she felt herself backing away and deeper into the room.

“Have you never heard of magic?” he asked as he passed her in a way that he seemed to be belittling her intelligence.

“Magic exists?” she exclaimed as he stopped walking by the mirror.

“Yes, now back to the mirror.” he said getting back to a point as he extended his arm to her. “Come.”

She raised her eyebrow as if to tell him if he thought her that stupid. He showed her just how foolish she was being by glancing to her father. Knowing what he was implying she clenched her fist and swallowed her pride and walked up to him. She had to bite her lip to prevent herself form doing anything foolish as he rested his hand on her back as they looked at the mirror.

“As you can tell this is no ordinary mirror.'Myroh Zina Demohros Zina Withele'. Do know what it means?” he asked as his hand slipped down to her hip sending an angry storm in her mind.

“No.” she answered wishing nothing more for him to quit toying with her and get to the point.

“'Mirror of the Demon of White'.” he translated as his hands moved to her arm sending lightening in her mind as he starting stroking it. “By the way, did you know that it has it's own dimension? You know that if you go through the mirror, but there is one little draw back.”

He pulled her in and pushed her into the mirror. For a moment she thought that she was going she was going through the glass but no her head hit the glass and fell down. He then picked her up by the hair. She had to hold herself up just to stop herself from feeling more pain. He drew her up to his face.

“You can not physically push somebody through, They need to have their own motivations to go into the world of the mirror.” he said as he let her back on the ground. “So if you see where I am coming from? I have to give you a motivation.” he smiled as he pointed over to her father. Her eyes widened his eyes raised in false pity. “I guess I hardly need to say what my motivation is for you.”

She looked a her father then her eyes slid back the man who controlled him wishing to set him alight with her mind. Her eyes looked back at her father painfully as she looked back at her own reflection in the mirror. She then turned to Sythvin with anger in her eyes.

“When I get out of here, you're dead!” she said as she ran into the Mirror of the Demon of White and passed in through the ripples of enchantment into the world of the mirror.