I drew a golden thread to match the barley and compared it to my mirror. As I watched it shimmer, I remembered a golden morning so long ago. Sometimes I missed my love but years had killed the burning passion and the throbbing ache. Time had robbed me of everything, even hope. Alone and empty, I could only face each glittering morning with a song on my lips.

I didn't know how I had managed it in the beginning, crying myself to sleep and whispering the name of the one I missed the most. I had stopped eating. I'd thought I'd make him pay for abandoning me when he returned, if he ever returned. Even though I'd forsaken food and water, even sleep, I did not die. My tower kept me alive and it has continued to do so.

I ceased to be lonely after a time. Why should I be lonely? I had my mirror. It had been a gift from my love. It was enchanted so that even when we were parted I could see him, but it grew blank one day. It took my months to learn how to re-enchant it and even then it was imperfect. My mirror showed me the road to Camelot and that alone. I needed nothing more.

My tapestry, my tapestry was everything. It was woven with a skill that had taken me longer to perfect than I would have liked to think. I'd chosen each thread with care and torn them out a thousand times over until it was perfect. The grain appeared to sway under my fingers like magic had touched it somehow. Perhaps I had given what little power I possessed to the tapestry and it really did move.

I cut the last thread, a perfect gold for a perfect morning. My masterpiece was finished. It was so bland with nothing on the road. I saw so many people pass every day on the road to Camelot. I hadn't been able to decide who to place there. It was a decision I could make slowly, with as much care and thought as every thread in the rest of the tapestry. Time had not meant anything for a very long while.

Something flashed in my mirror and I looked to it lovingly. It was the metal on a mule's harness. The scene was quaint but not splendid enough for my tapestry. Nothing was splendid.

I closed my eyes and was transported to a hovel in the woods on a sun-kissed morning. My love was smiling at me—his silly little grin. He'd just made a joke and I was flustered. He'd begun laughing shortly after that and fell out of his chair, but that was partly my doing because I'd knocked out one of the legs. I'd begun to laugh as well. I'd never been so happy in my life.

Nothing was real like that anymore. It was all shadows since that bright time.

I hadn't noticed, but in my remembering, I'd looked away from my mirror. When I looked back, the donkey and its cart had passed out of my view. They were off to Camelot. Splendid Camelot. I didn't dare look on Camelot. I was cursed never to see Camelot for I was magic and magic was forbidden there.

I turned my attention back to my mirror. Passing on the road now was a pair of lovers. They were so happy. I couldn't see their faces but I could imagine it. I could imagine stories for every person passing on that road but I'd grown bored of that so long ago. I could only mirror my own life in their stories and my life was dull.

So vivid were the images from my life that fleshed out the story of these lovers that I uttered aloud the word, "No!" I pushed my mirror away and only just saved it from shattering. "I am sick of shadows," I moaned as I compulsively returned my mirror to its rightful place.

I refused to look at my mirror after that for days. I looked instead at the stable and empty picture on my tapestry. I tried to draw from my memory an image bold enough to stand out against my nearly living background. I could not.

When my mirror flashed again, I reflexively looked to it, hoping it was not another pair of lovers. It was not.

Instead, it was a gallant troupe of knights. Their armour glistened in the sun. Their red mantles fluttered slightly. They were bold and suited my picture perfectly. I studied them carefully before they left the view of my mirror and disappeared for what could be forever.

As I studied them, I saw a flaw. One man among them was not dressed as a knight. He wore no armour. Rather, he wore the simple clothes of a servant. The moment I saw him, I was captivated. I could not take my eyes from him. The more I watched him, the more certain I became that I knew him. I knew his name. I became so certain that I whispered it aloud.

"...Emrys..."

And then they were gone from my mirror's view.

So desperate was I to not lose that servant that I ran to the window which overlooked that same stretch of road. I leaned out and watched him ride up to Camelot, the place I feared.

Coldness washed over me and I was afraid of Camelot no more for a far greater curse had taken hold. The magic of my tower, which had protected me for so many years, was broken. My mirror slid from its place and one black crack sliced across it the moment it touched the ground.

Memories returned to me, memories I'd forgotten so well. I remembered the hateful witch and the curse that had separated me from my love. I remembered how he'd built for me the tower to keep me safe until he returned. I remembered how long I'd waited before I lost hope.

I could not pause to examine my memories, though. So much magic that had been at odds, keeping itself from moving, had slipped its place. So much, that had been frozen, was now in motion.

I fled my tower then, for I could stay there no longer. I ran from the shadows. I ran until I could not run any further and sat to rest a moment by a broad stream. I saw a boat nearby and I knew that I would take it. I pressed, in magic, on its side, my name. It wasn't the name I'd used in the life I shared with my love but it was a name that suited me better for who I became. The Lady of Shalott. Shalott was my tower and I was its lady and that was all that was left of me.

I am now floating down that stream, toward Camelot. It rocks me gently, like a mother does to her child. I know I haven't long now.

I think back to that golden morning, a few hours before the jokes and the laughter. The sun had just risen but I did not want to rise yet. My love was still asleep, next to me under the blankets. I could see the golden rays of the sun filter in through the window. I thought of a song my mother taught me and I couldn't stop myself from singing. When I realised that I'd woken my love, I halted but he told me, "Don't stop. I love to hear your voice."

I sing that song now. My voice falters but I keep singing. As I sing, I think back to that morning and imagine that the witch had never come and that I am still living in that cottage with my love.

I dream until I can't feel the motion of the boat. I dream until I cannot hear myself singing. I dream until all that is left is the dream.

My love is waiting for me. He smiles.

"Welcome home, my Lady."