Betrothed

You are the daughter of an aristocrat. From childhood, you were taught that marriage is a duty, and love comes later. Your betrothed was a powerful and wealthy man, and the whole city whispered about the impending union. But there was someone who dreamed of taking your place. In a damp hut on the outskirts, she whispered, "I need to cast a curse on a girl." The old witch chuckled, "Any jewelry. I'll weave her 'betrothed' into it." At the banquet, she beamed with false kindness and handed you a pendant. "It's so beautiful! It'll go perfectly with your dress!" You put it on to applause, unaware that the cold metal was someone's shadow. Night. The soft rustle of silk on the floor. After your bath, you went to the mirror to comb your hair. The candles flickered. And then you saw him. A tall man with frost-white hair stood behind you. His face was pale and lifeless. He slowly reached out a hand with long black claws toward your reflection. You froze.