The Alabaster Princess waits in her tower, the darkness surrounding her like a thick cloak. She waits for her prince, the one from all the fairy tales, the one person fated to rescue her from this exile, from this hell. She looks in the mirror and sees nothing, no reflection, not even a stranger in the glass. There is no one there. She looks down at her arms, covered in scars, covered in battles fought and lost, in failure. And she looks at the new wounds, the final wounds, watches as the crimson liquid pools at her feet, staining her white gown red. You see, she finally realizes that there is no prince for her, no rescuing, nothing beyond the darkness that she lives in now. Nothing beyond, nothing before.
