In front of her is a vast white birch woods, a shortcut to her destination. It is splattered with dashes of yellow and brown foliage and covered with a blanket of snowy-silver blossoms. She slows down her horse as she sees a batch of verdant grass growing directly ahead in the cobble-stone littered, sinew-thin trail. She has not noticed the leering orange pumpkin monster in a grey-cowl, who's hiding itself behind the silvery branches.
A single fluffy dandelion stands swaying gently in the sudden eldritch breeze. She lifts up her hlemet mask, gets down from the tall war steed and lightly touches and plucks up the white flower.
"Never mingle in the affairs of the magical and divine forces." Somewhere in her mind, a faint voice prompts her to set down the dandelion.
As if a wisp of smoke has gone out of her, she falls down unconscious.
A witch with long curving nails, dresses in black and wears a smiling mask comes forth. She has no face and only darkness envelopes her entire being. She comes and carefully bears her away.
The horse stays rooted to the spot where the grass grows and faithfully awaits for his mistress to return.
She becomes a dreamy maiden, pampered as long as she doesn't remember her origins. Often as travelers pass by the spectral Castle Vanishing, en route to the Kingdom of Exsanguinous Pure, they would see the fabled fair lady, singing on a balcony, surrounded by Baldachin coverings of the finest quality. Waiting, waiting for her valiant square-bannered knight.
Will a Prince Charming come and rescue her, or must she rescue herself?
The end = ?
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