The Heart That Wouldn’t Break

The impact echoed like a drumbeat cracking through frozen glass.

Crystalline veins split beneath their feet, crawling outward in jagged webs across the mirrored floor. Pillars trembled.

Spires cracked.

And something deeper began to give way.

The palace had stopped resembling a fortress.

It had become an unravelling mind.

Every surface turned reflective.

Curved, warped.

Alive.

Around her, fragments floated in place, spinning in a gentle rotation as they caught the dying light. Each shard held a version of herself. Not illusions. Memories.

A playful smile in the shape of a succubus.

A crowned silhouette seated high above a court of frost.

A trembling hand wiping tears.

A figure whispering a name into someone else's sleep.

One mirror showed her watching him. Always watching.

From behind another woman's eyes.

Not a queen.

Not a rival.