Shadow Grove was forever shrouded in darkness. Day or night, its ominous gloom was so thick that sunlight could never pierce through, as if every leaf carried a curse. This shadowy forest divided two vastly different worlds. On one side lay the human city of Brightmoor, where warm sunshine bathed the streets, laughter echoed, and life felt safe and joyful. On the other side stretched a boundless frozen realm, known to humans as Snowveil Peak—a place covered by a blanket of snow so thick it seemed to mask the mountain in a veil of secrets, one no mortal could unravel.
Yet what people did not know was that deep within the icy heart of this mountain lay a hidden palace—Snowveil Palace. Constructed from frost-resistant white stone and pure ice crystals, the palace shimmered with a soft blue-white glow. Surrounded by endless icy plains, its solitude was illuminated at night by the aurora, painting the frozen landscape with hues of mystery and wonder.
The elders of Brightmoor always warned their children, “Never go through Shadow Grove to reach that cursed mountain. The cold there will freeze every trace of warmth within you. Worse still, atop that peak lives a terrifying sorceress. They say her song can ensnare your very soul, and one look into her icy eyes will turn you to stone, draining all life from your body.”
But Snowveil Palace—how beautiful it was! Who could imagine such terror lived within those walls? Listen closely—do you hear that? A song—melodious and enchanting—drifted out from within. Who could be singing?
The grand halls of Snowveil Palace were brightly lit and filled with an air of festivity. In the middle of the great hall danced a slender, beautiful woman with alabaster skin. She moved gracefully, humming a soft, lilting tune, her long, silver-white hair shimmering like moonlight. She wore a flowing white gown that swirled around her, like a blossoming jasmine flower. In her hand, she held a wand, and with her every movement, the objects in the hall seemed to come alive. Vases, rugs, brooms, and mirrors all joined in the dance, swaying in rhythm to her graceful steps. Even the King and Queen of the playing cards had come alive, forming a merry band, as if the entire palace was hosting a grand celebration.
Aldrin stood to the side, clapping along, his body swaying to the rhythm as he whistled in admiration. “Magnificent, Little Mollie! You are truly the queen of the dance floor!”
Aldrin was an enormous genie with a light-blue complexion. He could alter his size at will—growing or shrinking effortlessly according to his mood. Most of the time, he resided within a magical lamp, appearing only when summoned by his master, Princess Mollie, known as Sorceress Sherwood — or whenever he found himself bored enough to come out on his own.
