One

It was easy to escape when everyone was focused on the revelries and opulent decorations.

Not wanting to draw attention to herself or her puffy lilac gown, Arrella swept through the crowded ballroom and up the grandiose stairs as quickly as her heels could carry her. The longing to escape the castle lingered over her every day—but today, it was suffocating. She couldn’t endure it any longer. Her parents' subtle disdain. Her inability to produce any results. Her constant need—and inevitable failure—to please her parents.

The absolute fake nature of the celebration.

Despite everything, she couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at her lips, knowing that Jan was waiting for her at the hidden alcove.

She reached the end of the hallway and stopped to tug off her heels. To the right, the staircase to the alcove was just visible in the shadows. She was just about to keep walking when a door swung open, abruptly cutting her off.

She had explored every nook and cranny, every room in the castle, and knew that this door shouldn’t exist. That the walls at the end of the hall didn't have doors.

She knew there couldn't possibly be a door—there were no rooms on that side of the wall.

But there was one. And it was in front of her.

She wasn’t afraid of many things and was never any good at walking away from unexpected secrets. A puzzle. An undeniable pull to go inside and take a small peek. Though she wasn’t like Jan in having a sensitive nose, she could smell excitement.

But she was afraid of getting caught. Already pushing her luck by sneaking out of the party, she wasn’t sure how long she had until people started to wonder where the birthday girl had gone. And she still needed to meet up with Jan to ask her about the mysterious journal she’d found in her room this morning. Was it another prank from Mira? He had told her to expect a surprise from him today.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something…off about the journal. Something that twisted her stomach into a tight knot and left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She shook her head, trying to calm her racing heart. No, I can't get caught today. I need to figure out what the journal is.

She turned to leave, pushing the door closed, when a heavy chill crawled up her spine, gooseflesh prickling her fair skin.

A haunting feeling settled over her. Vengeful. Bitter. Sorrowful. 

Nostalgic.

The same feeling she’d had when she found the journal underneath her pillow. She'd never seen one that close before. She wasn't allowed to own one, let alone write on permanent materials like paper—or use ink. The few times she was allowed to write, it was done secretly—on the damp dirt in the rose garden or the frosty glass window in her room. Even then, she never had the luxury of keeping her words, always vanishing with the gentle breeze or melting with the dewdrops before her parents could find out.

She needed to ask Jan. Where did it come from? Whose was it?

While she was incredibly curious, she was too afraid to open it alone—not wanting to risk anything and wanting to hear Jan’s thoughts first. Maybe it was actually from Jan. It was her birthday after all. Maybe it was meant to be a surprise, though she'd had enough of those.

She peered inside the room again.

It was so dark that even the light from outside couldn’t reveal the hazy outlines of the room. It felt as though she was staring into the darkness from underneath her bed. Scary but familiar. Uncertain but compelling.

The pull to step inside was becoming impossible to ignore, growing stronger with every second.

Maybe it was the entrance to a magical world. Like the ones in the stories. With dragons and trolls and little people who could fly away and never come back. At least, that’s what she used to believe hid under her bed as a child.

It intrigued her—thrilled her to her very soul. 

She shifted between the balls of her heels, considering. Mentally racing through every scenario that could go wrong if she got caught.

But the fairies.

Gnawing at her lip, she gave in to the urge. Jan would just have to wait.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she marched in, her body trembling—from fear or excitement—as she slipped inside.