That night, Snow White's dream was no ordinary dream.
No forest. No birds. No light. Only… a starless, black sky.
Before her—a figure sat on a throne.
A cloak as black as the bottomless night.
Sharp armor forged from fear.
A long, cold sword, giving the feeling that no mortal creature should touch it.
A helmet—like a crown distorted into something that only existed to make others bow down.
Around her—hundreds of grotesque creatures, with malevolent eyes, sharp teeth, wielding weapons designed to inflict the greatest possible pain.
Snow White should have been afraid. But instead—she felt… Familiar.
Not in form. But in feeling.
"Gravity…" she whispered.
In the real world—
The ground around the house trembled slightly. Not an earthquake.
It was just… a heartbeat deep within the earth.
A small pebble rolled up —
Stopped in mid-air —
Then fell.
Far underground —
Something… moved. Not because of Sauron. Not because of the Ring.
But because —
Something older… had just recognized a familiar signal.
In the dream, the figure on the throne didn't move.
But Snow White felt as if she were being watched.
Not hostile. Not merciful. Just… judgment.
In the palace —
Sauron paused in the hallway.
The Ring tightened slightly around his finger.
Not painful. But… heavier.
He realized — The Ring didn't just react to power.
But to… emotions.
Especially things he no longer had complete control over.
And lately — They had been appearing more often.
When Seraphelle spoke. When she touched him. When she looked at him as if he were the only thing that wasn't deceitful.
In her room—Seraphelle stood before the mirror.
She didn't ask who was the prettiest. She just looked at herself.
She began to recognize a new, ugly, dangerous emotion:
Jealousy.
Not of anyone in particular. But of anything that could pull Sauron away from her. She hated it.
Because it made her weak. But she couldn't kill it either— Because it made her feel… alive.
That night, when Sauron came—
She moved closer than usual.
"What are you hiding from me?" she asked.
Sauron looked at her. Then—for the first time—he didn't answer immediately. Not because he was calculating. But because… he wasn't sure what the answer was.
Far away in the forest—
Snow White awoke, gasping for breath. The ground beneath the house still trembled slightly… then stopped completely. As if something deep underground… Decided to wait longer.
In the darkness, in the lingering dream —
The figure on the throne… Gently tilting its head.
That morning, the forest was unusually quiet.
Snow White ventured deeper than usual, trying to convince herself that what had happened the night before was just a dream.
Just stress. Just imagination.
But the fear lingered in her chest—cold, thick, and unyielding. She stopped before an ancient tree, its trunk so large three people couldn't encircle it.
"I'm alright…" she murmured to herself.
"I'm still snow white, there is absoultely nothing wrong with me…"
The wind rustled through the leaves. She closed her eyes—trying to take a deep breath.
And then—
The ground shook. The ancient tree groaned.
Its roots ripped from the earth as if pulled by an invisible force. Earth and rocks shattered. The giant tree slowly… rose from the ground. No one touched it. There was no magic she perceived.
Only… willpower.
Snow White opened her eyes. She gazed at the scene.
And she screamed.
The ancient tree shattered in mid-air—the wood exploded into hundreds of pieces.
The forest was silent. No birds. No wind. Only her gasping breaths.
"No… no… no…"
At the palace—
Seraphelle no longer kept her distance. No more meetings solely for political reasons.
That evening, she sat very close to Sauron, in the old reading room. Their shoulders almost touched.
"I fear," she said directly, her eyes still fixed on the candlelight.
Sauron did not smile. Neither did he deny it.
"Fear what?" he asked.
"That if I lose you…" she said slowly, as if testing each word.
"I will become… nobody again."
Sauron felt the Ring tighten slightly.
As a protest. As a warning. But he did not withdraw his hand.
"You will always be the one shaping the world around you," he said.
Seraphelle turned to look at him.
"No," she said.
"Only when someone sees me… truly."
A silence. Dangerous. Fragile.
Sauron realized— He didn't know what to do with this moment. Not on the battlefield. Not in politics. But in something… softer. More complex.
In the forest—
Snow White knelt, trembling.
"I don't want this…" she sobbed.
But deep inside—
Another part whispered: You can do more than that.
Darkness fell.
She staggered home. Half-conscious, her lips moved slightly.
"…Witch… king…"
Then she fainted. The dwarves found her near the path.
"A disaster from heaven…" someone whispered.
They carried her back, worried, confused. No one understood what was happening.
But they all felt— Something…was changing around the girl they loved.
Night fell.
Snow White lay with a slight fever, covered in cold sweat.
In her deep sleep—
Far, far away—
A being in the blizzard…stopped. As if it had just heard its name.
At the palace—
Seraphelle placed her hand on Sauron's.
No strategy. No power. Just…a desire.
And for the first time— Sauron wasn't sure
Whether what was growing in this world… was part of his plan.