The Author's Will

47 | Mirrored Blades

　　 As the maid's blade closed in on her, a bitter realisation overcame both Snow and Irene, who were overwhelmed by the demonic powers of the old witch. There was not enough time for Irene to get away from the blow — and no one could save her now.

The mirrored blade of the knife glinted dangerously under light. It's clean, smooth sheen ready to become stained with the colour red.

What would become of Irene when that knife pierced through her body?

Crash!

Just then — in the split second before the knife's edge could touch her — a great force suddenly thrusted Irene's body aside.

She was shoved away from the blade's path, and instead, it pierced into something else. A pained yelp escaped Irene's lips, as she struggled to process what happened for a moment. Irene had her eyes screwed shut when her back collided with a nearby shelf - causing glass ornaments to fall and shatter to the ground from the impact.

Silence fell over the room as opened her eyes to find herself staring in complete horror, at the scene before her. A shrill ringing echoed between the walls as time almost stood still for a moment.

Mikael was somehow standing perfectly on both his legs despite the injuries — eyes glowing a pale blue; blood staining his little white shirt and gushing out like a fountain of red. Overwhelmed with shock, Irene gasped inaudibly when she realised the deathly crimson fluid was coming from Mikael's hand.

He caught the blade before it could hurt him in any vital areas, whilst pushing Irene to safety simultaneously. A gaping whole had been cut open in the centre of his palm. Mikael's blood poured from the wound onto the floor, soiling the carpet in thick, messy pools.

But what bewildered them all the most, was the fact that Mikael was standing there with not an ounce of emotion on his face. There were no signs of pain, no hints of agony.

He looked as still as a hollow doll.

The witch stumbled back, releasing the dagger and shocked by the frightening look of icy cruelty in his eyes. She was so sure the mirrored knife would kill Irene from that speed, so how in the world did he manage to move the girl and stop her within that second?

Just seconds ago he was cowering with a beaten body — unable to walk. But the way he was looking at her as though she were a putrid bug was so frightening — it instilled fear in the maid who became overcome with petrified shock.

Not once in his life did this wimpy, meek child look at her with those eyes. Something was definitely wrong with him.

He should be crying in agony right now... Why is he looking at me like that?!

A chill down Irene's spine when she noticed the air in the room becoming startlingly cold. As if a sudden gust of winter storms had crept into the room, goosebumps formed on her little arms. The air began to condense as nature's law became subverted between the walls.

Snow too, glanced around to see ice glossing over the surface of the walls and furniture, growing increasingly white.

What in the world...?

Is this... Magic?

"Mikael!" Irene called out to the prince, her eyes swelling with tears at the sight of the blood that trickled from his fingertips. But he remained unfazed.

As if by his will — the shower of crimson leaving his body became completely frozen in place.

A sharp sound like clinging glass echoed through the room. Irene froze when she noticed there was no more red pouring from his hands.