“Thank you so much for doing this,” Genevieve said as she led Klara upstairs. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

“No problem,” Klara replied, smiling nervously.

“I just... I need to know things are going to get better,” the middle-aged woman said, her voice and expression looking so fragile. Like she was on the brink of tears, or of collapse. “I need to know there are better days ahead. You can tell me that, can’t you?”

Klara made a noncommittal sound in response, her heart aching. She had a gift that had been spoken about around town for such a long time - she could foresee the future. It didn’t work all the time, and her visions could often be quite hazy, but what she did see clearly had a tendency to come true. Some saw her as a freak, but many thought she was a marvel. Her parents told anyone who would listen about their clairvoyant daughter and her ‘gift’.

At times, it felt more like a curse. Particularly when a divorced neighbour on the verge of bankruptcy offered her the last of her savings in exchange for predicting a future where she was happy and financially secure. Klara had run into this problem in the past - some people seemed to believe that she could actually shape the future. She couldn’t. She could only see it. And if she saw something dreadful, in vivid detail, that was doomed to come true. That hadn’t happened often - she usually saw mundane things, and occasionally really nice things - but she was still haunted by the memories of trying in vain to stop her best friend’s father from falling victim to a hit-and-run.

Genevieve seemed to believe things couldn’t get worse for her, but what happened if Klara saw something even more terrible in her future? Or what if she just foresaw things continuing on the same trajectory they were already on? She didn’t think she could lie about what she saw, or pretend not to have seen anything if she did. But it’d be devastating for both of them if she had to tell Genevieve she’d envisioned her home being repossessed, and her ending up on the streets. A big part of her hoped she simply saw nothing.

She’d tried to avoid this. When she’d passed by Genevieve’s house, and the woman had darted outside and asked for a ‘reading’, she’d rejected her entreaty twice. But the woman’s desperate pleas pulled at her heartstrings, and she couldn’t refuse a third time, instead meekly nodding and following her into her home. She figured she’d get this over with as quickly as possible, and then get out. She was heading back to college in a couple of hours anyway - her car was all packed up.

“I heard it works better when you look into a mirror,” Genevieve said, entering her bedroom and approaching her vanity dressing table. She gestured to the mirror standing on it. “This is an antique - a family heirloom. I thought maybe that’d add to it, make your powers even stronger?”

“Good idea,” the clairvoyant college student said weakly. The truth was, any reflective surface would work just as well, whether it was an antique mirror or a puddle of rainwater. But it wouldn’t hurt to let her spur-of-the-moment client believe her heirloom was helping to enhance Klara’s ‘gift’.

She took a seat on the stool in front of the vanity, setting her purse down before her, and looked directly at her reflection in the smooth, polished glass of the mirror.

“What can you see?” Genevieve said eagerly.

“Nothing yet,” Klara said in an almost chiding tone, without breaking eye contact with her mirror image. “It usually takes time.”

There was a pause before the older woman spoke again, sounding like she was forcing herself to remain calm. “OK. That’s OK. I don’t have anywhere to be. You just take your time, dear.”

In fact, it was only a few more moments before the familiar feeling began to overtake her. Her eyes started to grow a little hazy around the edges, her peripheral vision around the mirror becoming blurry - while the mirror itself grew sharper, clearer, almost as if it were lit from within. Slowly but surely, indistinct images started to appear in the glass, superimposed over her own backwards face.

It occurred to her that the process was faster than usual. Maybe the antique mirror really was enhancing her abilities...

Focus, she told herself. Concentrate on what you want to see, on who you want to see. Genevieve. Genevieve. Genevieve... And so quickly she barely noticed it happening, her reflection faded, as another woman’s image appeared over it - Genevieve.

“I see you,” she murmured, so lost in the vision that she barely felt her mouth move. Her voice sounded distorted, as if she were listening to it while underwater.

“What do you see?” Genevieve said, her voice oddly clear in comparison. “What am I doing?”

“You’re...” Klara took in the future figment’s stylish clothing and her flashy jewellery. Around her, the image in the rest of the mirror changed from that of Genevieve’s current bedroom to a living room in a lavish penthouse apartment. A tall, muscular, tanned man stood behind Genevieve, his hands on her shoulders, giving her a backrub.

“You’re rich,” the clairvoyant murmured. “With a hot boyfriend.”

“That’s wonderful,” the present-day Genevieve crowed. “What else? Is there anything more?”

The image of Genevieve remained, but her surroundings changed to an upper-class store. She was clearly in motion now, marching through the shop, a different muscle-bound boyfriend hurriedly following her with several bags of shopping hanging from each arm.

Klara was taking in those details while still fixated on Genevieve’s face, knowing that the vision would dissipate if her stare wavered at all. She was used to using her peripheral vision to observe as much as possible, from years of practicing precognition. Now she turned her attention to the woman’s facial expression. Genevieve looked much more confident than her present-day self - bordering on arrogant, in fact. She wore a smug, self-satisfied smile, the kind Klara imagined wealthy people wore most of the time.

And her eyes... her eyes were hard, and cold. Devoid of empathy, like a predator.

“Keep looking,” the woman’s voice encouraged her. “Tell me what you see.”

Klara tried to swallow nervously, and realised she couldn’t really feel herself doing it. She couldn’t feel much of anything. This was an unfamiliar sensation - she’d never gone so deep into a vision that she lost physical sensation to such a drastic degree. It was unnerving. “M-more of the same,” she mumbled, her mouth numb. She figured she’d seen enough to satisfy her client, so she could break the connection. She could look away from those cruel eyes now.

Only she couldn’t. She couldn’t look away. She couldn’t turn her head. She couldn’t break eye contact. She couldn’t move at all.

“Just keep looking, Klara. Deeper and deeper into the mirror. Deeper and deeper into the future.”

Klara thought she might be having a panic attack. She certainly felt panicked. But she couldn’t feel her body, or hear her breathing. All she could hear was Genevieve’s voice. All she could see was the mirror.

The vision changed now, the hard-faced future Genevieve vanishing to be replaced by... by Klara. This was rare. She almost never saw herself when viewing the future. Klara’s counterpart in the mirror looked just as distressed as she felt, her eyes wide and frightened, desperately mouthing inaudible words. She looked like she was screaming and shouting, but of course she couldn’t be heard, because it was just an image.

But the most bizarre thing was how little of Klara there actually was in the vision - it was literally just her face. No torso, no shoulders or arms, no neck, no hair, even. Just eyes, nose, mouth, cheeks, forehead, and a hint of chin. In contrast with the clear vision of Genevieve, the Klara figment was faint and pale, like a ghost. The middle of her face was the most distinct, but she was more insubstantial further out - the borders of her face were blurred. Her surroundings were completely obscured and distorted, as if she were standing amidst thick grey fog.

“What can you see?”

Klara couldn’t make herself answer, gripped by terror and dread at the sight of her own spectral face. She wasn’t sure what she was seeing. She just knew she didn’t like it one bit.

There was a light laugh. “That’s OK, dear. I think I can guess.”

Her world suddenly spun crazily, as if she was pitching forwards. Her image came rushing forwards to meet her, as she fell face-first into the mirror. She let out a yelp of fear and closed her eyes, expecting a painful impact on her face.

Nothing. No impact. No collision. Not that she felt, anyway.

Opening her eyes, she found herself looking into the mirror again, as if she hadn’t fallen at all. She still couldn’t move, or feel any physical sensations. Her vision was still filled entirely with the antique glass, reflecting the room back at her.

But there was something odd about the reflection now. She realised the image had been reversed - so now it was showing the room as it actually was, rather than a mirror image. This took several moments to register, mostly because she was too distracted by the main difference in the reflection.

She wasn’t in it.

But that didn’t make any sense. She was still sitting there, staring into the mirror. She was sure she was seeing the present now - the vision had been dissolved when she’d broken eye contact and toppled over. So she should see her face staring back at her. Where was she?

There was movement in the mirror, and Genevieve stepped into view. Not the fancily-dressed future Genevieve, but the modern version, who wore comfy, casual ‘mom clothes’ similar to those Klara’s own mother habitually wore. But now she had the same cold, merciless eyes as her future self. And her mouth had twisted into a jubilant grin.

“And there we are,” she cackled, her voice as clear as ever. “Just like that, I’ve got my very own magic mirror.”

“What?” Klara blurted. Her own voice was still muffled. “What happened?”

“Well, technically, it was already a magic mirror,” the older woman elaborated, sitting down on the same stool Klara was perched on - or had been perched on. “Just not in the ‘Snow White, mirror mirror on the wall’ sense. Not yet. You really should’ve checked the back, just to be safe. It’s positively covered with magic sigils. I never put much stock into that kind of thing, but my grandma... oh, she was obsessed. She had an old spellbook that she left to me, along with this mirror. Told me I could do whatever I wished with it, use it to secure my future. I never did, until now. Felt like I didn’t have an option - it was a last resort. But boy, has it paid off!”

All the time that Genevieve had been rambling, Klara fought to move - to stand up, to move her arms, to look away, anything. But it was hopeless. She couldn’t move her body if she couldn’t feel it. A horrible thought struck her, as she remembered the vision of her floating phantom face. What if that was what she was, now? What if that was all that was left of her? How could she know - how could she check, if she couldn’t move and she couldn’t look down at herself and she had no reflection?

“Lucky she labled them all,” the divorcée continued. “Took a lot of reading, but I found the ones I was looking for. Sigils to amplify precognitive powers - that got my attention, knowing there was a gifted girl in my neighbourhood. Sigils to trap the spiritual essence in an object. Sigils to enforce submission, to bind you to my will. I took a big gamble - I vandalised a family heirloom and ruined my chances of ever selling or pawning it - but it was worth it. Now I’ve got my very own scrying glass. My own oracle, at my disposal whenever I need it.” She reached up above Klara’s sightline and tapped the mirror’s frame, as if patting her on the head. “My own magic mirror, just like in Snow White.”

The awful meaning of Genevieve’s words dawned on Klara. “Noooo,” she whimpered. “No, please, you can’t do this... Please, Mrs. Addison, you’ve gotta let me go -”

“That’s ‘Lloyd’, actually,” Genevieve corrected her. “I’m going back to my maiden name. Probably forever - I can’t imagine ever wanting or needing to change it again.”

“Mrs. Lloyd... please let me go... You have to, you have to realise you can’t keep me here. People are gonna realise I’m missing, they’ll figure out where I am...”

“How?” She smirked. “No-one saw you come in here. No-one was with you. You didn’t call or text anyone to tell them where you were - I was paying close attention as we came in.”

Klara’s heart sank. That was true enough. She’d been on her way home from the local diner, where she’d grabbed a cheap last-minute lunch before making the drive back to college. And she hadn’t texted anyone because she figured she wouldn’t be there for long, and that the woman was trustworthy. Why wouldn’t she be, after all? She was a neighbour, a friendly mom-type (despite being childless) whom Klara’d known, vaguely, for pretty much her whole life.

“My parents,” she said quickly. “They’ll wonder where I am. When they get back later and see my car’s still there -”

“So they’re not home right now?” Genevieve grinned. “That’s useful to know. Where are they? Answer me, fully and truthfully.”

“They’re both at work. I said goodbye to them this morning, because I knew they wouldn’t be home when I leave for college.”

Klara would have clapped her hands over her mouth if she still had hands. She hadn’t meant to admit that, but she’d felt compelled to answer - fully and truthfully. Just as Genevieve had asked.

‘Sigils to enforce submission, to bind you to my will’...

“Well, there we are then! That’s easy to resolve,” Genevieve snickered, reaching out and grabbing something off the vanity - Klara’s purse. Hunting around inside it for a moment, she fished out Klara’s car keys. “All I’ve got to do is take your car, and move it somewhere no-one’ll find it, and everyone’ll just assume you’ve gone back to college. Maybe I’ll stow it in my garage for now, and figure out what to do with it later. Oh - will anyone catch me in the act, mirror spirit?”

Images formed in the glass surface Klara was staring at, depicting her captor’s act of auto theft. She tried as hard as she could not to speak, but found the word forcing itself from her incorporeal mouth: “No.”

“Excellent.” Genevieve leaned close. “Now, here’s how this is going to work. You are my magic mirror now, Klara. You answer to ‘magic mirror’, ‘mirror spirit’, ‘scrying glass’, ‘oracle’, ‘mirror mirror on the wall’, and anything else I think of. You will obey my every command and answer my every question, fully and truthfully. You will use your incredible gift of foresight however I ask, and you will describe all your visions to me, sparing no details.” Her mouth twisted into a slightly deranged leer. “And you’ll refer to me as ‘my Queen’, ‘Your Highness’, ‘Your Majesty’, and any other variations on that you can think of. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Klara replied helplessly.

“Perfect. Now, spirit of the mirror, tell me more of my future wealth and success.”

Visions began to appear in a flurry, more vivid than ever before, in the surface of the mirror that Klara now knew she was looking out of, rather than into. She began to describe in detail everything she saw, explaining how ‘Her Highness’ would become vastly wealthy and influential, moving to the city and becoming a top investor and shareholder in numerous companies. She would own multiple homes, including the gorgeous penthouse Klara had seen previously, and several houses both in the US and overseas. She’d have a string of lovers, both male and female.

And the worst part was seeing how she’d achieve such success and happiness. Because in almost every image of Genevieve’s home, there sat the antique mirror on her desk. Several visions depicted her talking to the mirror, the pale floating face of Klara barely visible in the glass, speaking back to her. It was Klara’s gift that would secure Genevieve’s success, day by day, her unerring precognition guiding Genevieve’s manipulation of the stock market, enabling her to go from near-bankruptcy to one of the wealthiest women in the country within the next five years.

Beyond ecstatic after hearing of her future fortunes, Genevieve finally stood up and began to saunter towards the bedroom door, Klara’s car keys clutched in her hand.

“Please, please, please, my Queen, don’t do this, don’t do this,” Klara sobbed frantically. She might have been crying, but she couldn’t feel any tears on her face. She couldn’t feel her face. “You can’t leave me like this, you can’t! People are still gonna figure out that I’m missing, eventually...”

“Oh, I know. But they’ll never figure out what happened to you. After all, who would think you’d been transformed into a magic mirror? And even if, by some incredible chance, that did occur to anyone... who would suspect me?”

That was a fair point. After all, Klara hadn’t suspected anything off about her, herself.

“Besides, as you just told me - you saw yourself guiding me throughout the future. So you know no-one’s coming to save you. And you know I won’t set you free.”

Klara did know that, and she knew that her vivid visions meant the future she saw was pretty much inevitable. But she couldn’t help herself - she couldn’t stop desperately begging and pleading for her freedom. Genevieve stood and listened for a while, seeming more amused than moved, and finally said, “Hush now, magic mirror.”

And Klara shut up. She had no choice. Her cries silenced, the sentient scrying glass stared at Genevieve in anguish.

“Much better. From now on, you’ll only speak to answer my questions. Now, I’d best be off to move your car,” her Queen said nonchalantly, half-turning towards the door. Pausing, she shot a smile back at the mirror. “I should tell you, by the way, just in case you’re harbouring hopes of someone coming in here and finding you like this - I’m the only one who can see and hear you. And even I won’t see and hear you all the time. Thanks to one of those sigils, your face will only appear when I call upon you, and you’ll disappear again when I turn my back on you. Because sometimes, I just need a mirror, you know?”

Snorting with malicious laughter, Her Majesty began to turn back to the doorway, but paused once again, shooting a last look back at her possessed heirloom.

“I meant what I said, by the way,” she said with a sadistic smirk. “I really am very grateful.”

And she trotted through the open doorway and out of sight, leaving the face in her mirror to vanish, faster than condensation on the glass.

Klara stared out at the empty bedroom, unable to look away, unable to turn the head she no longer had, unable to even close her eyes. She found that she could at least escape into the future, changing her view to visions of days to come - but nothing she saw made her feel better. Her fate was fixed now. She was condemned to serve as Genevieve’s oracle, guiding her through every step of her journey to success, for the rest of her life.

With no hope of salvation and no way to resist the rules imposed upon her, the spirit of the mirror was left invisible, inaudible and insubstantial, waiting for her Queen to consult her again.