Her disappointment is a tangible thing, a murky blanket weighing her down as she stares blankly up from her mattress.

No one knows when Sir Han will be back. Apparently, it’s simply how the man operates: here one day then gone the next, disappearing into the countryside with his apprentice in tow.

“No one really knows what they get up to either,” Seraphina had said bemusedly. “A large portion of the magic tower’s work is confidential to begin with; but even when not, I suppose not many people feel inclined to know more.”

“Really? Why not?”

“Personally, I hold no interest in the royal mage nor his apprentice,” Seraphina said, tone turning wry. “But as for everyone else… let’s just say that biases remain difficult things to overcome.”

Aster blows out a breath through her mouth, wispy strands of white fluttering away from her face.

No lead on the maze. And no lead on Damien either.

After a few more minutes of mindless staring, she begins to push herself upright. Moping around for too long was never her style. Plus, it got old real fast.

She slides off the bed, making her way to the bookshelf in her study. A finger lifts up to trace over the selection of books she’d brought with her from home, hovering over spines with cracked edges and stiff hardcovers crammed with illustrations. She pauses on a thin hardback, pulling it out from the shelf before she flops unceremoniously into her chair.

The Princess and the Wisp. A fairytale, like most of the stories she’d brought along with her from home.

To be honest, Aster’s never been all that good at studying. If it weren’t for the agreement she made with her father or what little sense of duty she actually possessed, she would’ve been more than happy to skip out on her lectures in favour of running rampant around the estate.

Having someone explain concepts and theories orally to hear made the ordeal somewhat less painful, because then at least she could have someone to bounce ideas off of. It’s the main reason why she had Seraphina accompany her every time she visited the library, just so she could keep Aster from drooling onto the pages of the denser books they had to crack open in pursuit of answers. 

Now, she flips her storybook open, yellow-edged paper and elaborately drawn ink warm with nostalgia under her fingertips.

Once upon a time, the story started, (the way all the best stories do). There was a princess who lived in a beautiful castle. In her castle, she had everything she could ever want. Delicious feasts fit for a princess. Exquisite gowns and shining jewels. Parents who pampered her and an adoring staff.

The princess herself, was as lovely as a freshly plucked flower. Her smile was effervescent, radiant enough to rival the sun. Her voice put birdsong to shame. Never a day passed by where the castle did not echo with her sweet song. Never a day passed by where it was not encased in gentle sun.

But the princess, lovely and bright as she was, could never step out of the castle. For she harboured a dark secret.

You see, the princess was cursed.