She gazed at her reflection in rapture, caressing every strand of her glorious mane.
Until the glass misted over with an icy mist that formed spectral words: ‘Cut your hair or suffer my curse.
Ignoring the threats, she defied the mirror with a mocking laugh. A grave mistake.
The next day, her hair had fallen out completely.
Her piercing screams echoed through the abandoned mansion.
Since then, the house's mirrors reflect a silhouette with a demonic smile outlined by rotting lips.
The locals warn: ‘Never despise the beauty you possess, or the Lady of the Mirrors will condemn you to an eternity of ugliness.