Bartok The Magnificent Script (Genuine)

The bell rang again, a joyful cascade. Across the kingdom, the ice melted from Prince Ivan’s body. The coal heart in his chest turned red and began to beat.

“Enough, rodent,” she hissed. “Your ‘magnificence’ is as threadbare as your cape.”

“The kingdom will think him dead,” she crosaked to her stooped, silent servant, Vol. “I will rule forever.” bartok the magnificent script

“And what is that?” she sneered.

He didn’t fight her. He didn’t cast a spell. He simply walked past her, picked up a tiny pebble, and tossed it into the bell. It didn't ring loudly—it chimed a single, pure, childlike note. The note of a little boy’s laugh. The bell rang again, a joyful cascade

The sound shattered Ludmilla’s illusion. Her reflection in the bell showed her not as a regal queen, but as a lonely, bitter old woman. With a shriek, she crumbled into dust, her own frozen heart turning to ash.

“Oh, popycock,” Bartok muttered, and stuffed his wand into his belt. “Enough, rodent,” she hissed

But then he saw the little ice-prince’s face, frozen mid-giggle. The same giggle that had cheered Bartok on through a thousand failed magic tricks.