(Winter’s point of view)

“Oof!” 

Winter was suddenly airborne and landed hard on dead leaves. The sudden fall from several feet up knocked the wind out of him. He stayed there, groaning and wondering what the hell just happened. He glowed like a lantern, was sucked into that watch, became air, and fell! 

When he rolled over onto his back, he stared up and blinked. The gnarly, twisting tree branches above hid most of the sky. Red moonlight beamed through some spots between them. Since the crimson moon didn’t seem as bright as before, sunrise was nearing soon. But even when it became daytime, he wasn’t confident it would be enough light to penetrate through. 

Where am I?

Winter slowly sat up and rubbed his arms. The temperature wasn’t cold, but rather muggy and humid. There was no snow at all in this creepy forest. Perhaps the treetops prevented any of that white fluffy stuff from collecting.

The high pile of charred-looking leaves reached to his waist. If it hadn’t been for those, he likely would’ve gotten seriously hurt had he landed on something hard… like the path over there. He noticed the tall tree behind him. It was the same one from the “painting” inside the pocket watch. It differed from the others—thicker trunk, curled branches, and the bark was a more grayish-white color. 

Was I… transported? What sort of watch is that? He touched his pockets and other places of his body. Then he felt along the forest floor under the leaves. It wasn’t there. So the watch dumped me here and didn’t come with me. Perfect. What else is going to be thrown at me?

Plus, he shouldn’t have been surprised. The device belonged to the King of Myrkrheim, after all. By what he was told, things were not what they appeared. But those voices… What did they mean by “here?”

Winter was totally lost. Everywhere in this realm was freaking dangerous for a human—the city, the castle, and that gloomy elf. Ah, and let’s not forget the weather that changed often. Cold. Hot. Cold. Hot. And he did not want to be outside when it became freezing again.

Plus, his shoe—

The prince gasped and wiggled his toes against the moist leaves. He shivered at the feeling, visibly disgusted.

“I’m not wearing any shoes!” he mumbled. 

One thing he discovered while living with the seven dwarves—Winter hated the sensation of touching certain textures with his bare feet. The grass was mostly okay if the blades were dry. It was mainly dirt, mud, and feeling the bottom of the lake while swimming. It just repulsed him. And seeing how wet that bumpy path looked, Winter would hate every step.

I don’t want to return to the castle but… I need to consider the safest place for me no matter where. And that place is with King Taerynn. But I’ll have to figure out a way to protect myself if he attempts to cut me open again. 

“He’s the one who brought me here.” He stood and wiped off the dirt from his pants. “So he can take me back to Ascelin, far away from Nordenstein Castle and the Queen.”

Placing his hands on his hips, Winter observed his surroundings. Goosebumps peppered his skin and it wasn’t from the weather. The aura wasn’t good. He glanced behind him, growing more uneasy with every passing second. He couldn't see far ahead because it was dark with only a little moonlight to guide him. If anything were watching, he would never know. 

If only I could see where the castle is. What if I go the wrong way?

Winter carefully trudged out of the leafy pile. Dirt got between his toes. “Gross.” When squirmy movement crawled over his foot, he jumped with fright and panic-kicked away the unfamiliar thing. But all he saw were tree roots peeking out from the slimy soil where he stood. Okay?

SNAP.

The scared human quickly faced where the sound came from. He took a few steps back toward the weird-looking tree from the “painting.” Out of all the trees, it didn’t feel as spooky despite its disturbingly unique appearance. His backside pressed against the rough trunk, and he stared wide-eyed at the direction of the twig snap. 

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP.

He did not like this. Winter swallowed hard and closed his eyes. It was harder to breathe as fear gripped his lungs. This had to be his imagination. Or was it? This entire damned realm tested his sanity!

“Here.”

Oh, great. Now he was hearing things! Again! 

“Here.”

That voice! Winter opened his eyes. He turned around to inspect the warped tree. The word simultaneously uttered by dozens of… people, ghosts, demons, or whatever, was real. And the whispers came from this tree.

His face grimaced. His chest hurt like the previous times, right before the ache worsened. It would be a death sentence if that happened now! Though there hadn’t been another SNAP of wood breaking since, the eerie sixth sense that something wasn’t right lingered. But thankfully, the ache did not erupt into an unimaginable burst of sharp pain that made him want to die. It stayed at this dull level.

He spotted a peculiar thing.

Hmm? What’s that?

Winter squinted. He couldn’t get a good look. Peering side to side again to make sure he was alone, he squatted to see it better. It was… an etching. His finger touched it and traced along its outer shape. Oddly, he believed no one had carved it with a knife. The outline was natural and not man-made. 

Yet, that couldn’t be possible, either.

Because the symbol was of a perfect-heeled shoe. 

As soon as Winter made this realization, a sharp pain pinched a small area inside him. It wasn’t in his heart, but higher. He put a hand on the area. “Ah!” The pinching almost felt like… moving, in a way, trying to push downward. His teeth clenched and doubled over. A sweat sheen wetted his forehead. And then red droplets plopped on the tree root. 

He examined the blood. Nose bleeds had never been an issue for him before until being kidnapped. His first big life change was Father’s passing. Then the second was the “incident” when he was younger that gave him extraordinary abilities. Thirdly, getting all these health problems since waking up in that dungeon. 

That damned elf!

A dreadful emotion filled him. The knife-like pinch was wriggling more, as if urging him to go. Go where? His soul seemed to be weeping. It wanted to reunite with… with…

These thoughts do not feel like my own. How do I know I want to be reunited? I don’t even know who!

Winter touched the shoe engraving. This was a clue. It had to be.

Here, the whispers said. They chanted. Here. Here.

“Where?”

“Here. Here. Here. Here.”

“Can’t you say anything else?”

“Here. Here. Here. Here.”

Having enough, Winter yelled, “Then take me there! Tell me what to do! Show me! Open! Close! Scream! Yell! Say more than just ‘here!’” 

He didn’t know what happened to his upset voice in that sentence. Power laced his tone when he said “there” and “open.” Strong energy coursed through his veins, stemming from his heart. 

A bewildering phenomenon occurred. The heeled shoe glowed in that grayish light, giving the neighboring plants a faint glow. The tree quivered. Dead leaves rained. Winter crawled backward fast to avoid touching the shining brilliance spreading between the cracks of the bark. The light traveled from the shoe, up, over, down, and over again, creating an upright rectangle. Then it went out. 

CRACK… CRACK, CRACK, CRACK.

Pieces of bark that had touched the light fell off the trunk. Particles scattered. The rectangle swung out by one side, opening a door in the tree. It was half his height. The other side of the crudely shaped “doorway” was pitch black. A windy draft coming out of it created a ghostly, WOOOO.

“Here.”

“In there?” The stabbing pinch lessened by a lot. 

“Here.”

Winter wasn’t dumb enough to go inside. His expression deadpanned. All these shenanigans exhausted his blue eyes, tired of the bullshit. “No, thanks.”

“Here.”

“I choose life.” At that, he waved his goodbyes and took a step awa—

The prince faltered at the unexpected chest pain. A violent cough clawed him from the inside out. No doubt he was about to vomit blood like before! But when he stepped back, it disappeared. Huh? Winter furrowed his brows and thought about what this could mean. 

Is it actually forcing me to go…? No way. 

Winter leaned toward the path—chest throbbing. He leaned backward to the door—and felt better. He tested this a few times. Yes, his hypothesis was certainly correct. 

“You can’t be serious?” he complained. “Am I being trapped in this specific spot until I go in? Hello?”

The whispers remained silent and didn’t respond. Regardless, Winter knew what they wanted him to do without an answer… and that was to enter the unknown inside a damn tree!

SNAP.

He flinched. It was closer. The hair on his arms stood straight. A chill ran down his spine. Ah. He also didn’t want to come across whatever that was! 

SNAP.

“Oh, heavens. What am I supposed to do?” he asked no one, fidgeting nervously. 

“What are you supposed to do, indeed, Snow White?”

“Ah!” Winter yelped when a tall figure was beside him. He tripped over an exposed root. 

Before accidentally tumbling through the door, a tight grip on his wrist yanked him back. Their chests collided. King Taerynn towered over his height, glaring down at him with annoyance. Wait, could it have been him who was making those noises?

SNAP.

No. The sound was still nearby, meaning it had not been King Taerynn. And now Winter faced two threats—a pissed-off king who did not let go or whatever dark energy was approaching.