They are pale grey; really more of a light silver, so astonishing that when you look into them, you tend to forget what it was you wanted to say. The black center shines in the light; a strange sort of midnight in this small world; and the whiteness encasing it is pure and unblemished. From the dark middle to the edge of the silver runs a thin golden line, a thread to catch her dreams on, a fairy’s cradle. They give her wings.

Closed, the contours are soft, and a dark fringe curls gently. The outside is smooth and silky. With a flutter, they are open again.

In the very center of the center, a bright white spot, a reflection of the sun, surfaces. Shining and sparkling, this is the fairies mirror. They twirl on the fringe below, their flaxen skirts swirling. However, it is a cursed mirror—for all it is, is reflections of the pain and sorrow hidden within. But the fairies bring it laughter.

Yes, the fairies dance tonight.