The Land of Stories: Rewriting the narrative

Chapter 12: Mirror, mirror

"I'm so glad you made the right choice." She said, every syllable drawn out.
"Of course." He forced himself to smile.
"This will be fun." She gave that wicked grin again, the one that made every fibre of his being scream at him to run.
"I-I'm sure it will." He gulped. She laughed. He hadn't been expecting that. If he had, he probably would have covered his ears. Her laugh sounded like crows cawing over a dead body, vicious nails dragged down a chalkboard, the rasping cackle of an old deranged hag... oh, it was horrible. With it came screams, cries for mercy, desperate pleads. He wondered how long she'd spent perfecting her evil laugh. Maybe she was born with it.

"Behold my most prized possession!" She cried, and lifted a red velvet cloth to reveal... a mirror. A tall, rectangular mirror with gold edges and ruby embellishments.
"A mirror of truth!"
Almost without thinking, he moved to stand in front of the mirror. In it he saw a shadow of the person he once was. He saw a person he never wanted to be. He saw a dream dashed on the rocks. He saw so many things that made him want to sob and shout "Where did it all go wrong? Where did I go wrong?"

Then she stood in front of it, proud and unafraid. It reflected her exactly.
"You see?" She crowed. "I hide nothing! I hold power over truth and lies!" Despite himself, he was impressed.
"Very-very good, milady." She gave a low chuckle and his eyes widened. He had thought the mirror showed exactly the same woman. He was wrong. Because when she smiled, the woman in the mirror had fangs.