The echoing sound of heeled boots tapping precisely on the stone floor of the passage sent a shockwave of fear jolting through her fluttering heart, adrenaline flooding into her veins, the ancient reflexes of self-preservation coming into play as she ducked quickly to her knees, desperately combing the room with her grey-blue eyes for a place of hiding, a sanctuary to protect her from the satanic reflection who would surely kill her first and worry about the consequences later. The only area which promised the welcoming aura of a dark, unassuming place of safety was the cramped space beneath the wrought iron double bed which rose just far enough off the floor to allow the clearance of the trembling body of the young witch. She clasped the treasured book to her thin, heaving chest, her racing mind praying that the deafening sound of her heart thudding against her ribs and the noisy amplification of her blood pounding in her ears, attempting to reach her frantic brain would not betray her, a metaphorical whiff of scent to the pursuing nose of the huntress who would be stalking her every move, determined to track her down. She attempted to restore some regularity to her constricted breathing, praying that the book in front of her would provide some assistance in helping her to escape from this nightmarish situation, flicking through the ancient pages with renewed purpose, carefully separating the elderly pages one by one to avoid the tell-tale flutter of pages turning. "There has to be something…" she muttered feverishly, squinting in the appalling half-light at the myriad of supposed enchantments which for all she knew could have merely been the product of the mind of a bored writer, but she had to believe in their validity, to trust in their support, as it was this belief that would be the only force capable of allowing both her and Constance to escape from the hellish scenario.
The persistent ostinato of footsteps rose in a crescendo as the feared twin grew ever closer, the rhythmic din echoing within the enclosed space as she swept back to continue the merciless taunting of her detested double. The brisk footfalls halted momentarily as the door handle turned, the creak of hinges announcing the arrival of the demonic doppelgänger as she stormed into the room, her icy composure remaining firmly intact as she strode purposefully towards the mirror, a jet of red sparks glancing against its smooth surface, jolting the exhausted form of Constance Hardbroom back into a semi-consciousness, the incessant, malevolent tones grating wearingly once more against her diminishing self-control.
"Well, at least that feral animal will not disturb us any further, Constance…" she smirked triumphantly in the knowledge of the disposal of the unwanted intruder. Covered in cuts and bleeding gashes, Morgana was now cowering in the darkest corner of the staffroom, licking her multiple wounds that she had received in the course of duty that was defending her rightful mistress, the satisfying taste of the blood of that evil creature still lurking on her taste buds in a sweet reminder of her small victory over the hated intruder.
"At least you have managed to instil your doctrine into the brain of some dim-witted creature, although the general consensus seems to lean towards the latter given the woeful basic knowledge of your students, the majority of which can't even brew a simple potion without risking life and limb!
The shadowy form of Constance flinched at the criticism of her beloved students, anger flaring within her once more as she fought to cling onto consciousness once more.
"Always playing the controlled, rigid leadership figure when you fail to inspire the slightest amount of respect from your students, mocked, held up as a figure of ridicule for your pathetic attempts at installing discipline and knowledge into the empty, vacant heads of the backward students which fall under your woeful care. The fact crushing in its harsh simplicity is that the woman who presents herself as the faultless, impeccable Constance Hardbroom has failed as much in her disastrous attempts at teaching as in her pathetic, weak, self-absorbed approach to her pitiful existence! You-"
She broke off in a shriek of surprise and agony as a blinding jet of golden light hit her squarely between her narrow shoulder blades, shaking her to the core with the intensity of the magic which jolted through her. She wheeled around to face the enemy, casting fingers already summoning a deadly spell as she acted upon pure instinct.
Mildred Hubble had lain beneath the bed in the protective cocoon of darkness, feeling the inhuman surge of anger building within her, screaming for an outlet, the rage soaring like the mercury in a thermometer, the needle of fury shooting toward the top of the scale of human tolerance, demanding an immediate release, the further rush of adrenaline to her already teeming mind causing her to abandon her previous self-doubt and caution and to attempt the highly complicated spell that she had spent the past five minutes deliberating over the use of, her protective nature springing to the aid of her stricken tutor without the first notion of doubt or self-preservation, an untamed outflowing of the purest of magic bursting forth from her untainted soul.
"Immalatus Excabatus, mentat corpus, hibiscus liberatus. Veni specculus, praecantatio reversus!" she screamed, scrambling out from beneath the bed as the final stinging insult slipped from between the lips of the evil reflection, the golden arc of light striking her nemesis in the back, not allowing her the luxury of the first blow, a direct shot designed to eradicate the poisonous foe for good.
The reflection paused, a menacing smile playing around her lips as she surveyed the sprawled form of Mildred Hubble, the unruly hair escaping wildly from the unwinding plaits, a look of fierce intensity radiating from within her azure eyes, her chest heaving with emotion as she lay prone on the stone floor, praying that the incantation would take effect and rid the world of the evil which was now laughing hysterically at the supposedly ineffectual attempt that had merely glanced off her alabaster skin, a sadistic mirth erupting within her at the mere thought of the incapable student being able to banish her from her increasing hold upon mortal existence. She raised her slender hand, preparing for one last deadly curse.
"You're going to regret this day, Mildred Hubble!" she snarled as she drew back her arm to deliver the lethal blow.
Mildred shut her eyes, praying silently for the pain to be over quickly, at least dying in the knowledge that she had tried to bring about the resolution, bravely waiting for the eventual descent into nothingness. Instead, she heard an unearthly scream of pain and frustration as her fairytale curse finally took effect.
A sickening crack filled the room as the fragile façade of life began to decay, little hairline cracks slowly appearing in the skin and dress of the reflection, accelerating rapidly as they travelled the length of the deteriorating image as it began to shatter like a sheet of glass being struck by a sledge-hammer, falling to the ground in a rainbow of shards, a blinding white light ferociously punching gaping holes in the waning form as the appropriated magic sought to return to its rightful owner, draining away the final reserves of life from the inanimate shadow as it dissolved into a final burst of light, destroyed completely by the removal of the crutch which was the powerful magic, the anchor being raised, leaving her helpless at the hands of the devastating forces of nature that crushed it's pathetic, floundering form beneath their mighty weight.
Blinking slowly in shock at the sight of the carnage that had unfolded in the wake of her deadly spell, Mildred stretched out her trembling, cupped hands to the floating orb of white light, the pure magic which had been stolen from Constance when she had been incarcerated in the mirror, the magical core which made her one of the most powerful sorceresses of her generation, the raw, ancient power which was centred amidst her very soul, the very essence of a witch which now sat reluctantly in the outstretched hands of Mildred Hubble, fighting initially to return to its owner, before relenting that the only feasible method of reinstatement relied solely upon the merits of the young girl, sinking slowly into her skin, allowing itself to be absorbed into the epicentre of the girl, strengthening her with the intoxicating glow of the untainted extract of pure magic.
Words could not describe the omnipotent power which Mildred felt slowly filtering through her body, an incredible force of ancient command which seized the constricting rules of nature and forced them to bend to her mighty will, the indefatigable magic radiating from her in a visible glow, the golden spark of increased vitality saturating everything within her in its expansive wake, bathing her in the monumental potency of the supreme existence. Rising majestically to her steady feet, she strode assertively towards the awaiting mirror, unerringly confident in the indescribable knowledge that albeit temporarily, she was the most powerful sorceress in the world. The combined force of her own developing magic fused with the unbelievably strong powers of Constance buoying her towards the path of rescue, experiencing an feeling akin to walking on air, having to physically check to see if her freezing feet were indeed still in contact with the stony ground despite what her soaring senses were informing her, so intense was the power that she was containing within her young body.
She stopped millimetres away from the icy glass, a new resolve pounding within her heart as she fixed the fading spectre with an assured gaze willing for her to cling on to existence for the few short moments that it would take her to finally reach her.
"I promised I would come back for you…" she breathed, the words of unswerving loyalty hanging bravely in the silent air as she stared unblinkingly at the wretched figure, her voice wavering slightly with renewed hope as she wordlessly pressed her small palms to the still surface of the mirror, the formidable magic within her transforming the mill-pond like surface into a rippling, fluid entity, the stagnant waters of reality parting once more to allow her access to the satanic world of the shadows, the intrepid rescuer finally coming to the aid of the stricken witch, diving through the flowing, icy waters, snatching a last gasp of vital oxygen before the shock of the impact drove the air from her body as she sank into the black depths between the dimensions, determined to pull the drowning corpse to the surface.
The arctic lake of ether swirled around her slender form, dragging her unopposed beneath the decaying mire of time, pulling her into the murkiest depths of existence where she knew the dwindling band of existence was where Constance would be trapped, teetering on the edge of the dark void of death. Plummeting through the frozen wastelands, she steeled herself for the awaiting task, knowing full well that even the colossal focus of magic within her may not be enough to return them safely to the surface, knowing that the utmost faith and concentration were to be required at all times. Finally, she reached the diminishing physique of Constance Hardbroom.
A sweeping wave of pity crashed within her at the sight of the hunched, crippled, shaking wreck, who was curled up in a foetal position, wasting away to nothingness in the dark hell, now completely devoid of her humanity, condemned to spend her last fated hours in the stifling atmosphere of the suffocating hell. Two hazel eyes, stared back at her from within the skeletal form, the standing out from the emaciated face, the delicate bones in danger of bursting through the ashen skin which was pulled taut to the point of incredibility, the faint, delayed movements of her eyes the only sign of life that was flickering within the midst of her deathly pallor, unable to trust what her distorted senses were telling her, incapable of comprehending the joyous thought that her somewhat unlikely rescuer had finally arrived, the powerful enchantments overcome, the gateway broken down in the determined wake of her saviour, the ever loyal, ever trusting Mildred Hubble.
Mildred felt the magic within her straining to return to its rightful owner, a tug on the figurative leash, demanding a successful homecoming as she edged ever closer to the pitiful, huddled skeleton, reaching out slowly and placing her hands gently upon the sagging shoulders of the once mighty witch, the cold hands feeling like boiling lava springs to the numb flesh of Constance as Mildred unleashed the imposing flow of magic from within her, the healing outflowing of power soothing the excruciating pain, numbing it tenderly, allowing Constance to summon the iota of strength required to raise her trembling face to look in wonder at her saviour, the warmth of the power spreading slowly through her frozen veins, unfreezing the garnet, clotted blood, restoring the steady flow of oxygen, a faint pink flush of vitality every growing upon her gaunt complexion as the magic continued to breathe life back into her failing body, the dying cells rejuvenating, the unrelenting, encompassing fog which had covered her failing senses for the time of her incarceration now slowly lifting to reveal the sharp light of day which was filtering back into her psyche, health beginning to slowly redawn upon her frail torso, a new genesis , a new birth as she began the slow fight to escape from the constrictive prison like a new-born chick fighting to chisel its long way through the captive, concrete shell of its egg, each shred of unutilised energy being directed towards the eternal struggle for escape. Mildred could feel the golden light of the magic flowing through her outstretched hands into the emaciated flesh of the disintegrating woman, a feeling of joy and elation passing through her as the life-blood began to flow back into the captive witch, breaking her iron shackles and setting her free from her imprisonment, reuniting her with her trusted ally which had fought at her side for all of her troubled life as the power slowly began to reabsorb into the depths of her very soul, beginning to patch the gaping wounds of emptiness, the torn, purulent flesh beginning to knit together once more as the invincible force returned firmly to its mistress.
Finally their eyes met in a shared glance of understanding, emotional intensity radiating between them in a sheen of charged feelings, relief, trust, anxiety and fear shared in a haze of silent questions as blue met on brown. Constance began to feel the missing strength returning to her like a hibernating animal awakening from its long winter slumber, released from her comatose confinement, however, still weak through lack of nourishment, she clutched tightly onto the supportive arm of her student, wincing sharply, drawing her breath in between her gritted teeth in a defiant display of courage, drawing upon her last reserves as she clawed her way to standing, albeit very unsteadily upon her violently shuddering legs, gasping with the sheer effort of maintaining the simple stance without allowing her screaming, protesting muscles to slacken, and fall down in a limp heap like a rag doll. Observing the fragile state that Constance was in, Mildred effortlessly looped her arm around the microscopic waist, pulling the waif-like body towards her in a supportive embrace, cradling the wasted body to her tightly, her subconscious decreeing that almost as if by decreasing the distance between them, she would be able to transmit some of her own strength and determination into the flagging sinews and muscles of her deputy head, a simple act of comfort and reassurance which gave the winded enchantress a moment of peace in which to draw breath as she faced the draining ascent ahead of her.
"Give me your hands," whispered Mildred urgently, gently interlocking her fingers of each hand with the long, slender, brittle digits of her counterpart, binding them ever closer, sealing a wordless pact in order to be able to project the pure magic which would enable them to rise slowly to the gateway between the two worlds. "You know what we have to do?" she questioned quietly, not allowing worry to permeate her hushed tones, to which Constance slowly inclined her head in assent, summoning what was re-established of her inexhaustible powers. Tiny sparks of supressed magic danced in a bright, rhythmic pirouette between the braced fingers as the two witches began to murmur beneath their breath, a shared enchantment of commitment and trust, an ancient chant unknown to any mortal witch, which flowed effortlessly from their synchronised lips, a spell which was channelled from the heart, an enchantment that was not contained in any but the most perfect spell-book itself, the human soul, unleashed in only the most desperate of hours, the moments when a witch is closest to the valley of death.
"Veni,Veni, tempestatus liberates, compaginellus vitunes, esas neler et tinus urquate prestoris!"
A delicate chain of golden sparks began to unfold from between the interlinked, delicate fingers, binding the two witches irreversibly together as the radiant magic unfurled into the glistening strands of hope which decorated the hellish surroundings in a cheery glow which jarred with the heavy, chillingly sombre atmosphere, the eternal lightness emanating freely from the purest of magic, the intense force battling and savagely destroying the dark trappings of despair that obstructed its cleaving pathway, a spiral of celestial light bathing the two witches in its protective beam as they slowly rose, unchallenged through the murky world of shadows, nearly breaking through the solid barrier between the dimensions before the flickering light guttered wildly, casting a wild stream of wavering shadows, before dying completely as the weakened Constance once again lost her battle to remain conscious, fighting desperately to maintain her rigid focus as the world swam in front of her exhausted eyes, splitting into whirling fractions of colour and sound, unable to defend herself against the stealthy feeling of spent exhaustion which was crawling menacingly beneath her milky skin, like an invading swarm of ants injecting their irritant toxins deep into the flesh, the unbearable itch of sleep building behind her brow, forcing her eyes to bow shut, powerless to resist, she relented once more and allowed the blackness to envelope and swallow her once more, drowning yet again beneath its suffocating cushion of painless surrender.
For the first time in recent memory, the protective dam of courage in Mildred's heart faltered at the feeling of the draining of the united power, the resolute, steady progress being halted by the collapse of the sickly potions mistress, the sheer effort of survival proving to be a more demanding challenge than previously anticipated. She carefully cradled the unconscious form closely to her, nestling the mass of skin and bones into the warm contours of her flesh, trying to preserve the fading life-force within the afflicted woman whilst feverishly plotting her next move. It was all down to her now.
With an almighty effort which felt as if she were swimming solely against the overwhelming, combined forces of the overbearing tides of the five oceans, she determinedly continued the draining ascent, like a diver rescuing a priceless treasure from the seabed, she kicked hard, drawing harshly upon her emotional and magical reserves, determined to land her precious cargo safely upon dry land. At last they stood face to face with the unyielding wall of glass, the invisible barrier which trapped them mercilessly inside the shadowy underworld, prisoners condemned to face the fate of time should they not be able to forge an escape.
Breathing calmly, Mildred began to assess the situation, seeking the key to escape, the missing factor apart from magic that would guarantee their release, what would appease the enchantments of the mirror, what would rebuke the ancient curses and allow the gateway to open for them? What was it that was required to survive upon the other side of the glass, that the reflection had had to acquire to stand mockingly in the alien, foreign land? Magic of her own certainly, but what else? The answer came to Mildred in a breathless instant, shocked at her own ability to think around the apparently unsolvable problem.
Blood.
The doppelgänger needed flesh and blood to sustain herself, a permanent body in which to reside, a payment which would allow her to walk through the entrance to the mortal world unquestioned, unrestricted by the strict laws of nature, free to roam as she saw fit as long as a pulse was flickering away steadily beneath the alabaster skin. Blood, the universal fluid of life, the carrier of oxygen which fed the demanding cells, the sustaining fluid which supported life itself, pumped regularly by every beat of the bass ostinato that was the heart, every contraction and dilation of the myogenic tissue assuring the presence of existence for another unit of time.
Reaching up to the freezing surface, wincing slightly as her skin made contact with the chilling wall, Mildred closed her eyes, diverting her attention from what was about to happen. She couldn't stand the sight or smell of blood, particularly her own, but if it was what it would take to ensure their freedom, she didn't have a minute to loose. Steeling herself mentally, trying to quell the sickening churning of her uneasy stomach and supress the burning wave of acid that was gathering at the back of her confined throat, she took a deep, shaky breath as she recited the short spell, careful not to be too enthusiastic in her casting, not wishing to lose a limb amidst the exacting process, her concentration levels functioning at their utmost.
"Malima sanguitalus!" she whispered, bracing herself for the razor sharp pain that she knew would most likely accompany the spell, a faint cobweb of microscopic fissions opening slowly across her extended index finger, carefully allowing a single droplet of the precious ruby liquid to escape, trickling slowly down the sub-zero surface, a defining line between the dimensions shimmering into view in the wake of the restorative gift, slowly peeling apart to allow the mysterious shimmer of moonlight to shine unhindered into the dark ravine, a new dawn emerging in the morning sky, saturating the world in the bloody red of the rebirth, signalling the triumphant re-emergence of the unified witches, the two lost souls re-entering the mortal world hand in hand acting as each other's guiding light, the beginning of a new era, the formation of a new level of trust between the two women.
Time slipped by unnoticed as Mildred gently rocked the quietly slumbering form of the exhausted potions mistress, her small hands combing away the soaking tendrils of hair that were plastered in icy spirals to the frozen forehead of the semi-conscious woman, not wanting to leave her to seek assistance, deriving an odd feeling of security from the minuscule weight resting in her lap that reminded her that against all odds, they had survived. Reaching forwards, she snagged the edge of the purple woollen throw which still covered the bed which hadn't been slept in since that disastrous night, pulling it towards her and tucking the cosy fabric around the vulnerable figure of the witch, cocooning her inside the warming material, soothing her troubled brow with her cool hands just like Constance's mother had all those fated years ago, whispering gentle reassurances into her delicate ears, the warm breath tickling slightly as she conveyed her ceaseless message of love and support for the woman whom she had previously despised.
Looking down at the faintly lined complexion, she pondered idly to herself that Miss Hardbroom really could have been breath-taking in her beauty, the flawless, high cheek bones and almond eyes contributing to an amazingly feline stare, the mass of glossy ebony hair effortlessly framing her oval face, falling in a tumbling cascade of dark curls over her narrow shoulders, but there was a hidden reserve of bitterness that was poisoning her from within, the weight of the world being born upon her narrow shoulders as the emotional tumults fought intensely for supremacy over the decaying bridge between sanity and madness, threatening to jettison her into the awaiting chasm, dashing her frail form to pieces upon the intolerant boulders below. There was something of the sleeping tigress about her, stunning in her striking contrasts, a majestic, imperial strength evident in immeasurable quantities, but the hidden, raging power and perpetual uncertainty leaving the viewer in the constant, uneasy state of fear that a scathing attack was going to be launched, that the huntress would awake unannounced and pounce upon whomever had grown too close for her liking.
Alone, with nothing but the overriding silence of the room, Mildred began to speak gently to the sleeping woman, in full knowledge of the fact that a situation like this would never be permitted to arise again by the controlled woman, airing her thoughts and thanks to the witch who had lead her so far along the path of magical development.
"I don't really know where to begin, Miss Hardbroom," she began nervously, twisting her fingers in her rapidly unwinding plaits, "You don't like procrastination or uncertainty, do you? You like us to get to the point, to be focused, to be logical above all things!" she permitted herself a small, anxious smile at this point, "But, it's to you Miss Hardbroom that I want to address this, you may not be able to hear me, mercifully may not have any recollection of my stumblings and murmurs, but I want you to know this, this truth that has come to me over the last few weeks, the thought that has plagued me since it came to me."
She paused, her hand resting lightly upon the slowly rising and falling neck of the witch, feeling the steady thud of the restoring pulse twitching away beneath the skin.
"You want us to see you as the fearsome dictator, unflinching, irascible, disciplined and unyielding, afraid to show any supposed "weakness" that could be used in criticism of your flawless character, almost scared to show any love or compassion, but it shines through from you if you look hard enough, catch the rare glimpse of the loving, kind woman within, always encouraging us and pushing us to work harder if you can see potential."
She paused to gather her words, carefully musing over the finer details.
"I suppose that's why I always thought that you hated me, always picking on me, but not to be cruel, because you could see that I had the capability to master the complex magic, I just needed the belief, the expression of confidence in me from somebody, and that's why, that day two weeks ago, when you smiled, when you said well done, that I finally felt as if I had achieved!"
Mildred gently bent forward, summoning the courage to say what she could never have said to the commanding witch whilst she was conscious, and whispered quietly into the ear of the unresponsive witch.
"However afraid you may be to show emotion, whatever happened in your past, I can sense that there is still a huge amount of pain within you, it's eating away at your insides…"
Tears were forming in her eyes now as she delivered the final plea to the witch.
"Just, please, please find the strength to allow the pain to escape… please…. before it, k-kills y-you…"
She burst into an uncontrollable flood of silent tears as she cradled the tortured woman in her lap, her caring nature in torment over the sight of the anguish trapped within her.
Footsteps fell on the stone floor of the passage outside, causing Mildred to gasp in fear, involuntarily clutching the immobile body closer, and shielding her from the unseen threat as the projected shadow of the approaching figure moved slowly and purposefully towards them. A shudder of dread passed through her, not the evil reflection again? Had she survived against what Mildred's dazed eyes were telling her?
The echoing clink of the gates opening in the lock seemed to echo, amplified to a thousand times their original volume, the harsh sound hanging purposefully in the still night air as the anonymous presence finally entered the room, the heavy tread of carpet slippers sliding slowly towards the trembling Mildred.
The concerned face of Amelia Cackle swam into view, come to investigate the alarming screams and shouts that had been emanating from the West turret for most of the evening, as she knelt painfully on the stone floor beside her beleaguered pupil, enveloping her in a warm, cosy hug, the rich, sweet smelling perfume that was embedded in the fluffy material of her dressing gown dispersing into the surrounding area.
"Shhh," she soothed quietly as the young girl sobbed into her shoulder, "don't worry my dear, everything is going to be alright," she continued to massage small circles into the back of the crying witch until her sobs subsided, nestling into the comforting embrace offered to her by the motherly headmistress.
"Now then," started Amelia gently, wiping away the last trickle of salty tears from Mildred's face with a lacy handkerchief embroidered with the school crest of a black cat perched elegantly upon a yellow half-moon, "What on earth happened Mildred? What has happened to Constance?"
Mildred raised her reddened eyes to the headmistress and patiently began to recount the complex turn of events, not pausing in her never ceasing tale until she reached the present moment, watching the dawning look of horror appear on the kindly face of Amelia Cackle as she realised the bitter implications of the gift that she had unwittingly bestowed upon her loyal friend, a gift which, she realised with a sickening surge of guilt, could have easily lost Constance her life.
"This is all my fault…" she murmured in stunned shock, her heartbeat racing inside her chest as she surveyed the peacefully sleeping figure of Constance, counting the slow rise and fall of her chest as she drew in air to her body, a grave sense of doom falling upon her like a thunderbolt from the skies, tearing mercilessly into her heart as she dared to even contemplate the heart-wrenching loss of the woman who had become akin to her adoptive daughter, the devastating image of accidental manslaughter echoing permanently around her scarred senses as she reached out and placed a gentle kiss upon the cold, clammy forehead of the witch who was lucky to be alive. Why hadn't she acted upon those nagging doubts? Questioned the intruder? Persisted until she had discovered the truth, and trusted her usually infallible instincts to provide the answer to the glaring reservations which were racing inside her mind?
"This is all my fault!" she repeated angrily, more to herself than anybody else as she climbed determinedly to her feet, trembling with supressed rage, leaving a perplexed Mildred to watch on in shock as Amelia hurled a vicious curse at the epicentre of the priceless mirror, shattering it into a complete spectrum of glinting colours as the shards erupted into a rainbow, flying out of the ornate silver frame in a blur of glass, falling to the floor in a graceful arc, smashing into further smithereens upon contact with the dense stone.
Mildred ventured to intervene, but a faint moan from the stirring body of Constance Hardbroom diverted the attention of both witches, both instantly moving closer to the frail witch who had somehow found the inner strength and resolve to cling on against the almost magnetic, intense pull of death, waiting with unerring patience for her saviour to come to her rescue. The pale eyelids fluttered, opening to reveal the hazel eyes which were brimming over with tears of relief and gratitude as her disbelieving eyes saw the world that she had feared that she had left for the last time, the glorious sea of colours and textures flooding back into her vision, casting away the ethereal monochrome gloom and allowing the sparkling detail to wash over her appreciative retinas. Constance reached up with a shaking hand which she rested gently against Mildred's sodden cheek, finally allowing herself to speak from her heart, an outpouring of genuine thanks and emotion.
"Millie,"… she breathed faintly, a gentle smile playing around her lips as she looked into the startlingly blue eyes of her previously annoying pupil, the years of mistrust and uncertainty falling away in one simple gesture as she realised the magnitude of the emotional maturity and magic required to break the complex enchantments, a feat of such difficultly that she knew that even her mighty powers would struggle to cope with.
"Millie, you saved me…" the cracked voice continued, vocal cords being exercised which had laid stubbornly dormant for the past fortnight, "You showed an unbelievable courage and resourcefulness tonight, and an unwavering loyalty to both me and the academy, a completely selfless act that was riddled with danger and self-sacrifice. Words cannot express my gratitude to you, for all you've done, f-for the t-trust and strength that you've s-shown…"
She dissolved into exhausted tears as she exchanged a look with Mildred, the one glance being enough to confirm that she had indeed heard Mildred's solitary confessions, and was now attempting to be brave enough to shrug off her past and move into the next phase of her life.
Constance made to speak once more, but was silenced quickly by both Mildred and Amelia as they leant forward and joined her in an emotionally charged embrace, the warmth of the love radiating from them beginning to thaw the icy layer of the eternal bitter winter that covered the heart of the troubled witch, the final departure of the Snow Queen from within her wintery heart. The time would come for her to face the oppressive demons of her past and would need to draw heavily upon the support of her beloved friends to conquer them, but for now, Amelia conceded, the focus must be placed firmly upon restoring Constance to physical health, the ordeal in the mirror had all but left her as a human skeleton, bones protruding alarmingly from all areas of her body, a pitiful sight that almost brought more tears to the stinging eyes of the motherly woman as she remained wrapped in the hug. But, she resolved, slowly stroking the tangled mass of dark curls of the rescued sorceress as the witches remained in their shared embrace, actions truly speaking louder than the most expressive of words, she had her beloved Constance back, and the seeds were now in place for the healing to begin, the new shoots of hope being allowed to blossom and take root, growing healthily into the beautiful blooms of regrowth, the golden sunshine escaping from behind the grey, stagnant clouds and shedding a beautiful new light of optimism across the landscape as she moved ever closer along the mountainous path to the coveted attainment of the gentle harmonies of peace within the stormy seas of her troubled mind.
THE END