Ironically, she who lifted the curse had to pay the price to keep the world balanced.
In my case, the price I had to pay would seem benign, even shallow, at first. It even seemed that way to me in the beginning, until I realized the atrocity of such sacrifice.
My curse was simply this: I wasn't allowed to see my reflection in any clear mirror or reflecting surface for the rest of my life. If I ever did, something horrible would happen to me and my family and my land.
12
It's hard to describe how an adolescent girl's life without a mirror is like. I can't even bring myself to remember it now. I need to take a deep breath before I write about it.
Give me a second, please.
At seventeen, all the talk about my ancestors soon escaped my adolescent memory. I don't know what it was that actually made the idea of not seeing how I looked liked intolerable. I had always thought of it as a great sacrifice. When you're young and naive, you think that sacrificing yourself for others is a good thing.
Maybe it was knowing that I was "prohibited" to see my reflection. Deny anyone anything and they only want it more. Maybe it was my hormones kicking in. How was I supposed to walk over the threshold of womanhood without seeing and—hopefully—admiring my looks? Sometimes, I wondered if all this was only a camouflage faked by my parents so I never saw how hideous I looked.
But it didn't make sense. How did all those visitors look at me as if I were the most beautiful of them all?
My curse began to bother me. Who was that witch who cursed me, and why weren't we allowed to speak her name, let alone know it in the first place? Why did she curse me?
Although I repeatedly asked my parents about her, they never succumbed to my wish to know her name, or where she was from. All I knew was that she hated our ancestor and I was supposed to be her nemesis. That was all. They said it was for the best for everyone.
Those unanswered questions weren't helping me occupy my mind, as I needed to forget about my curse. They didn't help me forget about my reflection and pretend I was the only one in the world who didn't need to see it.
My father and mother grew more concerned about anything resembling mirrors, including my mother's precious copper mirror.
Still, my father and mother worried if my blossoming into womanhood would urge me to break the rule and have greater interest in watching myself in the water's reflection, like any normal teen would do. This resulted in me being almost cut off from meeting any boys.
As obedient as I was, I seemed to forget all about mirrors again—which also worried them. Why isn't she curious about her looks? What is wrong with her? You know how parents are. Sometimes there is no way to please them.
My parents worried whenever I neared any kind of water: rivers, streams. Any shining metallic objects, like armors, worried them, although they believed the curse specified my reflection in either water or a mirror.
I spent my days hearing about girls staring at their reflections in the Pond of Pearls, debating who was the "most beautiful of them all." The famous and shiny pond looked like liquid pearls underneath a full moon from far away. I could only see it from my mother's chamber when I visited, now that I wasn't even able to leave the few chambers I was allowed to enter in the castle. Each day I contemplated if I should burst out of the castle and run to the Pond of Pearls, defying my parents' wishes and having to live with the consequences of breaking the curse.
I didn't want to be special anymore. I didn't want to be a hero, saving the land. I didn't want to be pampered. I just wanted to be a normal girl—something I was never granted, neither then nor now.
***
On my seventeenth birthday I had asked for a bigger chamber with a better view of the Pond of Pearls. My wish was granted a few months later only after endless debate between my parents.
I had to promise them each day that I wouldn't break the rule. A look at the pond from afar wouldn't hurt anyone. My father's soldiers guarded the gates leading to the Pond of Pearls anyway.
It was only a few days until I realized the luxurious castle I lived in had been nothing but my personal prison.
But whom was I fooling? Watching the Pond of Pearls each day from my window intensified my need. I have never seen girls giggle as much as when they saw their reflection in the water.
The curiosity was also sparked by admiring my mother's beauty—the more she aged, the more beautiful she looked to me. Older, but more beautiful, more graceful and elegant. She didn't know that, though.
"You're so beautiful, Mother," I told her, fiddling with strands of my golden hair, which I had to keep ridiculously short so I couldn't see it often—they were afraid the sight of my beautiful hair would increase the need to see my face.
"Not as beautiful as you," she said, combing her hair.