Two people stood in the room and silently looked at the wonderful face depicted in the mysterious portrait, not daring to carry out the order and destroy it.
“Is this a portrait?” Said one of the servants, addressing a beautiful blonde girl who stood alone in the middle of a deserted room, but did not want to come closer to the beautiful portrait, but only looked at it from afar.
She looked pretty much like the beauty in the portrait. Only her whole appearance radiated goodness, and in the ominous depth of beautiful eyes from the portrait was read cruelty.
“Burn it,” she ordered, but every word was given to her with incredible difficulty. “Burn it.
Without a drop of regret, the ruthless servants tore the portrait of a beautiful young girl from the wall and threw it into the fire. The picture flared up with a bright flame and it, touching it, for a moment illuminated the beautiful face of the witch with its light.
A tear rolled down the face of the young beauty, but then a snow-white hand fell on her shoulder in a gesture of tender sympathy and support, and the beauty touched her with the same love.
“What should I do, Clara?” She whispered, barely audibly.
“Forget everything,” Clara’s quiet voice answered her.
“Forget it all, Maerlin,” she repeated, “it doesn’t matter anymore.”
The portrait of the beautiful Emily was already burning in the fire, and a particle of evil embodied in the portrait burned with it.
“I would like to be as beautiful as she,” Maerlin said.
She did not yet know that fate was preparing her fate to be many times more beautiful than her own dream.
Waves beat against the shore at the wild rocks. It was another sea and other rocks, Clara took Maerlin away from the witch’s castle and the kingdom of evil.
Clara stood on a high cliff by the steep, deserted shore.
Neither time nor tears could change her beautiful face, not a single wrinkle was visible on her still young face. There was not even a strand of gray in her black hair.
She gazed sadly down at the sea, so beautiful, distant and deadly here on the top of the cliff.
A cold wind blew from the sea, driving the icy waves of the tide. Clara’s hands involuntarily pressed against her body, trying to keep warm.
“Your dreams have died, Clara,” a voice filled with evil whispered behind her, “the memory of them revived me in your memory, your memories brought me here.
She barely flinched when she heard his voice, but did not even turn around, because she already knew who was standing in front of her.
“Why did you come back,” she said, restraining her anger, “why did you come here, this place does not belong to you, there is no magic of your witchcraft in these rocks.
“Forces of darkness are present everywhere, they just need to be awakened by human evil, grief or pain. They will become even more powerful, and the whole world will belong to me when there is no pure, bright and beautiful dream left in it.
“It will never happen,” she hastily interrupted him, “the dream of goodness is immortal in the hearts of people, and it will defeat you.”
“Oh no,” – a short laugh escaped from the chest of the bloody demon, “she needs to be saved, not me. After all, even in goodness I can find evil, in beauty ugliness, in a dream inconsolable grief. This is my strength, I can find the worst in the beautiful soul of people, I can turn their dignity into a curse. It happened with Roderick, it will happen with the daughter of our princess.”
“I will not allow,” said Clara, “I will not allow you to kill her.
“She’s only a human.”
“But why then did you wait for so many years, why do you need her life now?”
“I just know that if some time passes, then the same magical charm of the princess will appear in her, she took your life, so why would you save her daughter.”
“Because she became my daughter, and you cannot deceive me, demon.”
“And I don’t need it, I just give you a choice, Clara, give me Maerlin, and then I will save your life.”
“No,” Clara answered firmly, her decision was unshakable.
Clara slowly turned around and looked straight into the fiery eyes of the bloody demon, who now wanted to destroy her. She believed that Maerlin would survive, no forces of evil could defeat her. Clara understood this, because she loved her, but now she looked into the eyes of her own bloody death.
A clawed, bloody hand rested on her shoulder, and pain shot through Clara’s entire body. Suddenly, something unexpected forced the demon to release its victim from the embrace of death, and Clara’s bloody corpse fell lifelessly down, where the sea was rustling, and its waves forever preserved the beauty of her sweet face. The gaze of the bloody demon instantly rushed to where not far away, on a high rock, stood a small lonely house, filled with warmth and comfort.
“Clara,” came from there the low cry of someone’s clear and beautiful voice, barely drowning out the violent gusts of wind. A beautiful young girl came out of the house, and the fiery eyes of the devil widened in insane anger when he saw her.
“Clara,” she shouted again, gathering all her strength.
She quickly ran forward, although gusts of wind blocked her way to the sea and to the edge of the cliff, where Clara had previously stood.
“Clara,” she whispered softly with growing fear, looking around, but nowhere was a living soul to be seen.
“Maerlin, Maerlin,” a mysterious whisper echoed in a mysterious silence.
“Clara,” Maerlin repeated involuntarily, but she knew that the voice was not Klara’s.
“Maerlin, beautiful dream,” sounded again in the silence, making her shudder all over.
“Who is there?” Looking around apprehensively, she whispered softly and again, in a terrible fit of fear, shouted with all her might:
“Clara!”
Her desperate cry went unanswered. A long, clawed hand from behind reached out to Maerlin, almost touching her shoulder, but as soon as she flinched with a bad feeling, the strange hand disappeared into the mist again.
“Clara,” Maerlin whispered for the last time, but then a sound suddenly made her turn sharply, but there was no one around. Sighing heavily, Maerlin involuntarily backed away. Suddenly icy hands grabbed her from behind.
Maerlin screamed and dashed away with all her might. In the very last moment, when she was about to run back home, something made her turn around. At the edge of the cliff, a huge figure surged up in a fit of pain, or, perhaps, inhuman anger.
Bloody eyes looked directly at her from somewhere in the very darkness, and it seemed to her that if they only wanted, they could kill her at any moment.
“You are beautiful,” the monster whispered softly, almost touching her face with its clawed paw.
In wild fright, Maerlin recoiled, and the small golden cross in her hand, always kept by her as the last spark of good in memory of her mother, slipped out of her fingers and fell to the cold ground with a clang.
The monster’s eyes flashed with fire, now he longed for the death of Maerlin.
Maerlin made a sharp movement, wanting to get away from here as soon as possible, but involuntarily fell to the cold ground next to her golden crucifix. Her hand, in the last hope of salvation, reached out to this cross.
She did not understand that the last moment saved her. As if some light and pure radiance helped her reach the cross, some magic of light blinded the bloody demon for a moment. Maerlin quickly grabbed the cross in her hand.
The cross in her hand immediately shone with a blinding light, reflected in the eyes of the bloody demon. The demon screamed in pain and disappeared.
Then the snow-white hand of the figure slowly bending over her gently touched her shoulder, and there was so much tenderness in this light touch that made Maerlin distinctly whisper one single and so sweet, but never known to her word: