She wakes, slowly and painfully, but at last she wakes. She lifts eyes hazy with the agony that torments her form and there finds before her a large mirror that hangs poised in the air above a raised pedestal. Beside it stands a woman – a beautiful woman no doubt, such beauty that despite herself, the Nymph feels her breath grow sharp and short. But then she remembers; this is the woman who appeared with an unannounced suddenness and swept the Angel aside with a flash of steel. It is also the same woman the Angel spoke to her of, because as she regains herself, the Nymph recalls his words upon seeing the poison bearing flowers.
The Nymph pulls herself up from the cold floor. "Who are you?" she demands.
The woman saunters towards her, hips swaying as she spreads her arms in a gesture of welcome. "I am Calamity".
The name holds no significance for the Nymph, but yet still she feels something rising to the surface of her skin, something prickly hot and passionate; the foreshadowing of an anger she has directed at no other until now. She glances away from the woman for a moment, catching her reflection upon the floating mirror. Her harrowing trials have left their mark upon her; she is tired and worn, and the battle with Calamity only leaves her with more bruises. But that is of little consequence to her. With the Angel's words upon her mind, the Nymph confronts Calamity with a question.
"Are you the murderer of my kin? Is it you who poisoned the earth and set Man and the Gods against us?"
Calamity's smile begins slowly, and it is a cruel, mocking thing. "It was I", she confesses easily. "You wretched creatures thought to steal the glory of my perfection; I will share it with no one, and so for your insolence, you must be destroyed".
The Nymph stares up at the woman. She does not understand, but perhaps understanding is not required her. She has all that she needs; Calamity has confessed to her crimes. All of her Sisters are dead by her hand and nature spoiled by her deeds. That is all she needs to know.
The Nymph launches herself at Calamity with a cry of vengeance – but she is weak, weaker even than in their previous bout. Calamity expends no effort in bringing the Nymph once more to her knees, a mocking laugh the song of their battle. She fastens her grip about the Nymph's throat and brings her before the Mirror. Here, once and for all, she will have her question answered.
"Mirror, Mirror", she sings. "Show me your perfect truth. Who is most fair in all creation?"
The Nymph is bruised and broken, worn and weary. She hangs limply in Calamity's grip as the surface of the Mirror is hidden beneath silver mist, what dwells behind it for the moment a mystery to both of them. And then the mist clears.
The Nymph looks upon herself – but she is transformed. The Mirror shows her an image of herself before Calamity's purge, and beyond that, it shows each and every one of her Sisters, for the moment no more dead, but alive and encompassed in an aura of peace and contentment. Her reflection smiles wide and bright, her eyes shining with the light of happiness.
Since the dawn of Time and her creation, Calamity has posed her question to the Mirror. The Mirror is born of her realm and at one time knows nothing more than she and the heavenly courts, among which there surely exist no equal. Even when Man grace the earth and angels the sky, the Mirror sees none among them. But when it finally sees the nymphs, they who exist between the realms of Man and the Gods, it knows that they are different.
They are a selfless people, with a deep and pure love for the things of nature. They seek only peace and between the Gods and Man often serve as its broker. The sheer physical beauty of Calamity they may not possess, but the Mirror is compelled to look beyond the physical surface once it turns and sees the nymphs. Their beauty is a wholesome thing, and once it knows of them, the Mirror has only one, unchanging answer to Calamity's one unchanging question.
Calamity stares upon the Mirror as the Nymph stared upon her, all reasonable thoughts and words chased from her mind. And then she casts the Nymph away from her and with a shout of rage lashes out at the Mirror. The Mirror shatters violently beneath the point of her sword.
The Nymph hears something whistling through the air, but also the sounds of sharp, wet impacts, numerous to her count. She does not turn to verify with her eyes what her ear assumes however, for only moments after the Mirror shatters does Calamity's realm begin to tremble.
The realm is a labyrinth of twisting corridors and shifting walls, and as the Nymph tries to flee from it as reality seems to precariously bend before her eyes, she finds that her efforts somehow lead her back to the very same room she had left. In the centre of the room, the empty frame of the Mirror hovers silently above the raised pedestal. Calamity lies before it with her hair and limbs tossed askew, impaled upon silver shards.
Suddenly, a hole is ripped into reality as the world around her collapses and the Nymph stumbles towards the darkness of the Keeper's domain. She spares but a glance for the strewn form of Calamity before escaping the demise of her realm.
All is still and quiet, and the Nymph does not recognise where she is. She looks down and slowly lifts the arm she clutches tight to her stomach. She staggers – almost falling to her knees – as she looks upon the scarlet wound inflicted by Calamity's blade. After a long moment, she looks away and gathers her remaining vestiges of strength. There is no other thought or desire within her mind other than to find the Angel, and so she begins her journey.