The golden hand mirror laid broken at the top of the steps, its shattered pieces glistening under hills of sand—forgotten. When she and her travel companions first explored these ruins, they were amazed by the grand statutes and the intricate details of the artifacts lying around. But the mirror called to her. So she went back, this time alone, to rid herself of the nagging feeling that she had left something behind.

Gianna sat at the third step of the ruins, brushing away at the sand piling over the glass pieces. Though her common sense ridiculed her for such aberrant behavior, her inner spirit felt satififaction each time she freed a glass piece from the sand and returned it to the mirror. When she returned its last piece, she waited for something to change, but nothing happened, and Gianna turned back to leave for camp.

“…princess” what sounded like an odd mixture between a sob and a whisper travelled through the wind, echoing. Had her friends returned to play some sick prank on her? No. They were already down the trail, at least an hour away by now if they had not stopped.

“…princess Diona, wake up.” She heard again. Then the voice—a women’s voice— broke out into a faint cry. Gianna walked the steps, eying the golden mirror from which the voice came. Peering into the mirror, she no longer could see her reflection. Through the broken cracks emitted a blue-white glow, which formed a woman lying on the ground.

“Diona, please, if you can hear me…” she whispered. “Don’t go, it’s not time yet.”

Immediately Gianna was drawn in, taking in her desperate pleas as if the woman were speaking to her. She wanted to help but didn’t know how.

The woman turned to the other sitting beside her. “Your spells, they’re not working. She doesn’t hear my calls.” She said, her soft cries now turning into a hiss.

The other woman remained calm. “Or maybe she does hear your call, she just doesn’t want to answer them…Let her go.”

Before Gianna’s eyes, the glowing woman scattered away into nothingness. When she turns, the same woman reappears, this time sitting on the edge of a bed.

“Daughter…” She whispers. “10,000 people stand outside our walls, waiting for your words of wisdom. You promised to protect them. Have you forgotten?” The woman tucks Diona’s hair behind her ears, then lifts her voice in a gentle song.

Just as the last image flew away, the scene vanishes into thin air. Gianna looks to her side to see a chorus of people gathered at a tombstone, laying down gifts of pearls, jewels, and flowers. Tears rolled down some of their faces. This was it. Princess Diona was gone with no way of returning. Yet her memory remained trapped between the cracks of the mirror. And now they lived on Gianna’s memory.