Geppetto lived alone in a confined little factory at the edge of city. It smelled of sawdust and oil painting, with ringlets of wood piled on the bottom like drifts of snow. Every day he sculpted cabinetwork and toys, not for wealth he noway had important of that — but to put chuck on his table and to bring a bit of cheer 

Life in the timber continued with a meter of gentle harmony, yet Snow White’s new reality was far from simple. Though the queen’s immediate trouble had been baffled, her covetousness dallied like a shadow across the area. Snow White had awakened not only to the love of the dwarfs and the Napoleon but also to the responsibility her beauty and courage demanded. She could no longer simply live in the timber and hope the world would leave her alone. She had to act wisely and with courage, indeed if peril was still bruiting beyond the trees.

Once upon a time, in a area shadowed by dark timbers and lofty mountains, there lived a queen who endured for a child. Each day, she peered into a window of black ebony, tracing the delicate busts of roses and stars, and rumored her want into the cold air “ If only I had a son with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony. ” 

The corridor of glowing flowers led them to a part of the forest unlike any they had yet seen. Here, the air shimmered with a pale green light, and the mist clung thickly to the ground. Each step felt surreal, as if they were walking on the edge between reality and dream.

Time no longer flowed in a direct way. Elara and Aric stood within the heart of the timber, yet they felt its hugeness expand into perpetuity. Every splint, every tale, every shadow was alive with memory, wisdom, and possibility. They were no longer simply trippers
 they were the guardians, the keepers of its heart, and the personification of every trial they had faced. 
 

The reflection stepped free of the glass with a sound like shattering ice, though the glass itself remained unbroken. Elara staggered backward as the thing stood before her — her own likeness, yet wrong in every detail. Its hair lustered darker than raven’s bodies, its lips twisted in a mocking smile, and its eyes glowed with sanguine fire. The shard in her hand palpitated in alarm, its tableware light glaring against the corrupted gleam. Kaelen moved fleetly between them, hammer raised. “

Steel disaccorded in the city forecourt, echoing like thunder between the lodges. Kaelen’s hammer chimed against a dogface’s brand, sparks scattering as iron met sword. The crowd had fled to doorways and alleys, watching in alarmed silence as the black- armored riders advanced. 

The light that poured from the glass did n't fade so much as transfigure. At first it was bedazzling, a storm of tableware fire that wrapped around Elara until she no longer knew which way was over, nor where her body ended and the light began. also, little by little, it softened, dissolving into shapes and forms casts of worlds not her own. She floated in a vast ocean of images, suspended like a splint on a swash of stars. She saw fiefdoms rising and

The light that poured from the glass did n't fade so much as transfigure. At first it was bedazzling, a storm of tableware fire that wrapped around Elara until she no longer knew which way was over, nor where her body ended and the light began. also, little by little, it softened, dissolving into shapes and forms casts of worlds not her own. She floated in a vast ocean of images, suspended like a splint on a swash of stars. She saw fiefdoms rising and

Morning broke over the remains with a pale, cold light. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the argentine sky, and frost had woven delicate lace across the broken monuments. Elara stirred from her restless sleep, her heart heavy with the question that had visited her dream What will you surrender? She rose stiffly, brushing snow from her cloak, and set up the white fox watching her, its amber eyes glistering with undecipherable depth.