Prince Elian paced restlessly, his reflection in a broken mirror revealing the curse etched into his skin—crimson runes glowing faintly along his jaw. He clenched his fists, frustration flickering in his eyes as he turned to the only letter left unopened on a marble table, its wax seal marked with a coiling serpent. "If anyone can undo this, it must be the witch of the blackwood," he muttered, determination hardening his voice.

Mirella, the witch, sat hunched over a bubbling cauldron, her silver hair wild and her eyes sharp beneath a tangled fringe. The air inside was thick with the scent of herbs and the low hum of magic, broken only by the creak of the door as Prince Elian entered. "If you’ve come to blame me for your misfortune, turn back," she snapped, not bothering to look up.

Prince Elian stepped closer, desperation audible in his tone. "You are the only one in these lands with the power to curse a royal. Please, Mirella, listen. I need your help," Mirella narrowed her gaze, lips pressed into a thin line as she studied the runes on his skin. "You believe what the court whispers, but I swear on my magic, I did not cast this spell,"

Prince Elian held Mirella’s gaze, his voice trembling with both anger and hope. "Then help me prove it. Break the curse and show them the truth. I’ll owe you any favor you name," Mirella paused, fingers drumming on the tabletop, weighing her options. "Magic has its price, prince. If I try, you must accept whatever truth is revealed—even if it’s not what you wish to hear,"

Mirella chants, voice low and urgent, weaving strands of gold and violet light around the prince. The runes on Elian’s skin burn brighter, pain etching across his features as the curse is drawn out, swirling in the air above them. "Show us the caster’s hand," Mirella intoned, her palms raised to the ceiling.

Prince Elian staggered, the weight of the curse gone but replaced by the shock of betrayal. "It wasn’t you... All this time, I trusted the wrong people," Mirella’s expression softened, a hint of grim satisfaction in her eyes. "Sometimes, prince, the truth is the most powerful magic of all,"

Prince Elian turned to Mirella, gratitude and newfound respect warming his features. "I owe you a debt I intend to honor. Perhaps our kingdoms are not so different after all," Mirella smiled, mysterious and knowing. "Let’s see what future you choose, now that you are free,"