Jack Frost and the Beanstalk
I scrambled back, staring wildly at what had been near-boiling water moments before. The fire flickered low in the hearth, and I turned... to see snow. It was snowing. The steam was clearing rapidly, transforming into snow right before my eyes. An ice crystal floated in front of my face, getting bigger as I watched. I stared at it, entranced. I stopped shivering.
I watched it until it settled to the ground, joining a thin layer that covered nearly everything in the large bathing room. Slowly, as if in a trance, I turned toward the large looking glass mounted on the wall. In the flickering light from the fire, for a moment, I didn't recognize myself. A pale boy, with albino skin, brilliant white hair and the most striking silver eyes stared back. I shifted, and the figure did the same. Slowly, I reached out, my finger and the figure's getting closer and closer, until suddenly, they met glass. A soft crackling sounded, and I jerked back.
From the point where my finger had touched the glass, A fine web of silvery lines spread, painting feathers of filigree across the huge mirror. I stepped back, and when the figure, which was now mostly covered in frost, stepped back as well, I lost it.