The magic rushes over the sneering prince, sending his robes and hair billowing about his form as though caught in the eye of a storm. There's no visible impact, no concussive blow and still he staggers half a step back.

Pure light. Love. For such seeming harmless concepts, their effect is nothing if not remarkable.

The prince gasps, and as the light fades, so too do the darkened circles around his eyes, the shadows of his hollow cheeks and the dark stain of his mouth.

One precious moment of long-forgotten innocence, torn to shreds by a vicious snarl.

The glade is suddenly empty, save for the snow coming down to sleep. There are no footprints, no marks as to where the prince has gone. It's as if he were never there in the first place.