Once upon a time, in a small picturesque village nestled among rolling hills, lived a young woman named Eliza. She possessed a rare beauty, with long raven-black hair that cascaded down her back in gentle waves and eyes the color of the midnight sky. Eliza grew up in a loving family, surrounded by the laughter and joy of her parents and two siblings, Owen and Emma.

They lived in a cozy cottage, adorned with flowers and vines, where they shared many happy moments. Eliza loved to paint, capturing the beauty of nature and life on her canvases. Her parents encouraged her talent, proud of their daughter's gift. Owen and Emma often posed for her portraits, smiling and teasing each other. Eliza's paintings radiated with warmth and love, reflecting the harmony of her family.

However, tragedy struck one fateful winter's eve when Eliza was just seventeen. A terrible accident claimed the lives of her parents and her beloved brother Owen, leaving only Eliza and Emma to weather the storm of their grief. The once vibrant household now echoed with a melancholy silence.

The villagers mourned with the sisters, offering their condolences and support. But no words could ease the pain that pierced their hearts. Eliza felt as if a part of her had died with them, leaving a gaping hole in her chest. She blamed herself for surviving, wishing she could trade places with them.

She remembered the last words they had exchanged before the accident; words of love and gratitude, words of farewell. She wished she could hear them again, to hold them close and never let go. She wished she could turn back time, to undo the cruel fate that had befallen them.

But she knew it was impossible; they were gone forever, and nothing could bring them back.

In the wake of their immense loss, the sisters clung to each other for support, their bond growing stronger with every shared tear. Day by day, Emma watched as Eliza's laughter faded, replaced by a veil of sadness that clouded her beautiful features.

Eliza's heart became cold, guarded by walls of sorrow, as she vowed never to let the world hurt her again. She withdrew into herself, finding solace only in her paintings, which whispered the sadness that consumed her soul onto each canvas. Through her art, Eliza could express the depth of her sorrow without uttering a single word.

Her paintings became dark and gloomy, filled with shadows and tears. The colors drained from her palette, leaving only shades of gray and black. Her portraits were no longer alive with emotion; they were empty and hollow, like the eyes that stared back at her.

She painted them as a way of coping; as a way of escaping; as a way of dying.

She painted them until there was nothing left of her; until she became one with them; until she was no more.

As the seasons changed and years passed, Emma noticed that her sister's likeness began to fade, gradually replaced by the shadow of a lost soul. Emma's heart ached; she yearned to see Eliza once again filled with joy and life, the Eliza she remembered from their childhood.

She tried to cheer her up, inviting her to join the festivities in the village or to take walks in the countryside. She brought her flowers and gifts, hoping to spark a smile on her face. She told her stories and jokes, trying to make her laugh. But nothing seemed to work; Eliza remained distant and aloof, locked in her own world of misery.

Emma felt helpless; she didn't know how to reach out to her sister; how to break through the walls that separated them; how to save her from herself.

She felt guilty; she wondered if she had done enough; if she had been there for her; if she had loved her enough.

She felt angry; she cursed the world for taking away their family; for leaving them alone; for making them suffer.

She felt lonely; she missed their parents; she missed Owen; she missed Eliza.

She felt hopeless; she wondered if there was any point in living; if there was any happiness left; if there was any reason to hope.

One evening, Emma stumbled upon a storybook in the attic. Its worn pages and tattered cover revealed its age,
as if it had been untouched for decades. Intrigued, she dusted off the layers of neglect and began to read.

Deep within its pages, Emma discovered a tale of a magical mirror. Legend claimed that this mirror had the power to reflect the truest desires of one's heart. It could show one what they longed for most in life, what they needed to be happy.

Hope flickered in Emma's eyes; she believed that this enchanted mirror might just be the key to unlocking the hidden happiness within Eliza's tortured soul.

With the book firmly clasped in her hands, Emma set out to find this fabled mirror. She traversed treacherous terrains, crossing forests and mountains, determined to bring light back into her sister's life. After several long and arduous months, Emma stood on the precipice of an ancient cave, where the magical mirror was rumored to be hidden.

She ventured inside, guided by a faint glow that emanated from within. She followed the trail of light until she reached a large chamber that housed a magnificent mirror. It was framed by intricate carvings of flowers and stars, its surface gleaming like polished silver.

Emma approached it cautiously, wondering what it would reveal to her. She looked into it and gasped; she saw herself standing next to Eliza, both smiling brightly. They were holding hands,
surrounded by their parents and Owen, who looked healthy and happy. It was as if they had never left them.

Emma felt a surge of emotion; she reached out to touch them, but her hand met only cold glass. She realized it was only an illusion; a cruel reminder of what she had lost.

She sobbed quietly; she wished it was real; she wished they were here. She missed them so much; she missed their love and warmth. She wondered if Eliza felt the same way.

She wiped her tears and composed herself; she had to be strong for her sister. She carefully wrapped the mirror in a cloth and tucked it in her bag. She made her way back to the village, hoping that the mirror would work its magic on Eliza.

But when she arrived at the cottage, she found it engulfed in flames. A crowd of villagers had gathered around, watching in horror as the fire devoured the home of the sisters. Emma dropped her bag and ran towards the inferno, screaming Eliza's name.

She tried to enter the burning building, but the heat and smoke pushed her back. She saw a figure in the window, silhouetted by the flames. It was Eliza, holding a painting in her arms. She looked calm and serene, as if she had accepted her fate.

Emma cried out to her, begging her to come out, to save herself. But Eliza didn't move; she didn't speak; she didn't hear.

She only smiled; a sad and beautiful smile; a smile that said goodbye.

The roof collapsed, burying Eliza under a pile of rubble. Emma collapsed on the ground, overcome by grief and despair. She had lost everything; her family, her home, her sister.

She had lost herself.

She wished she could die with them; to join them in the afterlife; to be with them again.

But she knew it was impossible; they were gone forever, and nothing could bring them back.

She looked at the mirror in her bag, shattered by the fall. She saw nothing but broken glass; broken dreams; broken hearts.

She realized it was all a lie; there was no magic; there was no happiness; there was no hope.

She realized it was all a curse; there was only pain; there was only sorrow; there was only death.

She realized it was all a tragedy; there was no happy ending; there was no fairy tale; there was only once upon a time.

The End

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