The moon hung high in the sky, its silvery light bathing Snowveil Palace in a serene and majestic glow. The entire frozen kingdom lay cloaked in an almost sacred silence, broken only by the occasional whisper of the wind that stirred the curtains and carried with it a biting chill.
On the second floor of the palace, in the stillness of her chamber, the Sorceress Sherwood tossed and turned, unable to find rest. Each time she closed her eyes, the shadow from her recurring dream loomed over her thoughts, relentless and consuming. Beyond the dream’s mystery, a different yearning gnawed at her—a longing for the world beyond her snowy prison. Images of human towns, bustling with life and vibrant with color, filled her thoughts. What is the human world truly like? she wondered. The question rooted itself deeper in her mind, refusing to be ignored.
At last, Sorceress Sherwood sat up, her silvery lashes quivering faintly under the moonlight’s soft glow. Her cascading white hair spilled around her, glimmering like frost caught in motion. Sliding out of bed, she donned a simple white gown, airy and unburdened by adornment. She carried neither coat nor provisions—only her wand, grasped lightly in her hand. The moonlight streamed through the window, casting an ethereal glow on her pale face, as though she were a spirit born of snow.
“Tonight is the night,” she murmured softly to herself, her resolve solidifying. Her heart raced, a blend of exhilaration and trepidation surging through her as she tiptoed to the door. She eased the door open, stepping into the corridor. Each step down the grand staircase felt like treading on thin ice, the silence so fragile she feared the faintest sound might shatter it.
By the time she reached the grand entrance, a flicker of triumph swelled within her, igniting her with daring anticipation. She stretched out her hand to push the colossal glacial doors. But just as her fingers brushed the cold surface, a steady voice rose behind her.
“Where might you be heading, Princess Mollie?”
Sorceress Sherwood froze, her hand suspended in mid-air. Slowly, she turned to see Jack, the playing card knight, emerging from the shadows. His frosted armor gleamed faintly in the moonlight, a long sword poised in his hand. His stance was rigid, his sharp gaze cold and unyielding as ever.”
“Ah… Jack,’ she said, forcing a lighthearted tone. “I… was just stepping out for a walk. You know, a little fresh air.”
Jack’s brow furrowed slightly, a glimmer of suspicion lighting his eyes. Having guarded her for 120 years, he knew her every habit, every subtle shift in demeanor. Whenever she lied, her gaze wavered, her voice turned hesitant. He saw through her pretense at once but chose not to confront her, waiting silently for her to continue.
“A walk?” His voice was calm, measured, revealing no trace of emotion. But Sorceress Sherwood could feel his doubt weighing heavily on her. “At this hour?”
Her pulse quickened as she scrambled for an explanation. “Yes! The moon is so beautiful tonight. I just wanted to enjoy the night air and take in the view.”
Jack didn’t move, his eyes piercing as though they could unravel the very fabric of her thoughts. After a long pause, he finally spoke.
“Princess Mollie, you know I have protected you for a very long time, don’t you?”
Sorceress Sherwood nodded, uneasily.
“Then you must also know,” he continued, his tone unwavering, “that I can tell when you’re lying.”
