Gala hit the ground with a thunderous thud, the sound swallowed almost instantly by the cold. She groaned and rolled onto her back just in time to see the tear in the sky above her knitting itself shut, the glowing edges sealing like a wound determined to forget her.
"Well," she wheezed. "That can't be good."
A violent shiver wracked her body. She scrambled upright and wrapped herself tightly in her old, threadbare fur coat, clutching it as though it alone stood between her and becoming an ice sculpture.
What exactly is this place?
She rose unsteadily to her knees and scanned her surroundings. Her breath caught.
Ice.
Everywhere.
Trees stood frozen mid-reach, their branches trapped beneath layers of crystalline frost. The ground beneath her was solid and unyielding, slick with pale blue sheen. Even the air felt sharp, as if it might cut her lungs if she breathed too deeply.
"I am… definitely not near Hibiscus," she muttered weakly.
Panic crept in, swift and merciless.
Home.
Mother.
Father.
Avin.
My birthday.
The breakfast.
Her head throbbed as the weight of it all crashed down on her. She staggered to her feet, pacing in tight circles, as if walking fast enough might rewind time.
How do I get back home?
The question—long avoided—finally struck with full force.
She blew into her hands, rubbing her palms together, watching small clouds of mist bloom and vanish.
"Hello?" she called out, voice trembling. "Can anyone hear me?"
The forest answered with echoing silence.
She groaned. "Of course not."
Curiosity, she decided bitterly, was an overrated trait.
Her sobs broke free before she could stop them. She stumbled to a frozen tree stump and collapsed onto it, crying openly now—loud, ungraceful sobs, complete with sniffles and snot.
Which was humiliating.
Though, to be fair, she was lost in a frozen otherworld on her eighteenth birthday, so she felt entitled to at least one dramatic breakdown.
She hissed angrily and smacked her own forehead.
"What have you done, Gala?"
Covering her face with shaking hands, she seethed—at herself, at her curiosity, at the suspiciously cheerful fairies.
"Those fairies…" she muttered darkly.
Obviously, this was their doing. Obviously, they had cursed her for accidentally discovering their existence. That seemed reasonable. Entirely reasonable.
She clutched her coat tighter and huffed out a breath—then paused.
"…Cursed," she muttered again, then let out a shaky laugh. "Well. That's one way to celebrate eighteen."
Against all odds, she smiled.
Rising to her knees, she forced herself forward. Crying wouldn't keep her alive—finding shelter might. She trudged into the icy forest, her fingers already numb, her breath shallow.
Everything here was frozen solid—perfectly, unnaturally so.
Did that force… move me to another dimension? she wondered weakly.
She plucked a delicate snowflake clinging to a branch and, without thinking, tried to bite it.
Immediately regretted it.
"…That was stupid."
As she wandered, something finally struck her. There were no snowdrifts. No fallen flakes. No evidence of snowfall at all.
It was as though the world had simply stopped—frozen mid-moment.
A violent gust of wind tore through the forest, nearly knocking her off her feet. She slammed into a nearby tree, teeth chattering uncontrollably.
Her vision blurred.
She was tired. Hungry. Cold beyond reason.
Her knees shook violently as images flashed through her mind—icy mountains, stranded travelers, grim documentaries. Mt. Everest, of all things, decided to make an appearance in her thoughts.
"Of all the times to remember Reader's Digest," she murmured faintly.
Her strength gave out. She hugged the tree as her vision dimmed, the world fading into white.
"Mom…" she whispered.
Her mother's voice calling her name was the last thing she heard before the cold claimed her.
⸻
A short distance away, Alvaro raised his fist.
The warriors behind him fell silent at once.
"There," he said quietly.
A small body lay sprawled across the ice.
He had been tasked with leading today's patrol—securing the barrier of Aelfrey while several fayes ventured into the human realm to gather supplies. A temporary measure, His Majesty had said. A promise, too—that the unnatural frost strangling their land would soon be ended.
Alvaro leapt from the brush, silver-encrusted spear glinting in his grasp.
"Is she dead?" one warrior asked.
Alvaro said nothing, eyes fixed on the unmoving figure.
Collapsed from the cold, he surmised.
"Deviro," he said calmly. "Check her wings."
A male fairy stepped forward, pale blue hair brushing his shoulders, translucent wings folded carefully against his back. In these temperatures, wings were fragile things—one mistake could render them useless.
Deviro knelt and gently tugged aside the coat.
He froze.
"She has no wings," he said, voice tight. "She's human."
Silence.
Alvaro hurried to his side, disbelief crossing his face. A human—inside Aelfrey. Breaching the barrier.
Impossible.
And yet—
"You know what must be done," Alvaro said at last. "Restrain her. Take her to His Majesty."
⸻
Something cold and tight gripped Gala's wrists.
She gasped awake.
Figures loomed above her—tall, unfamiliar, armed.
She coughed, lungs burning, and instinctively reached out—only to find her hands bound.
"Please," she rasped. "I want to go home."
One of the men—a towering figure with a silver spear—regarded her coolly.
"That will not be possible. You are subject to His Majesty's inquiry. You will explain how you breached Aelfrey's barrier."
"Aelfrey?" Gala blinked. "…So I am in Aelfrey?"
A tired smile crept onto her lips.
"Does that mean Puffhill and Duffhill are here?"
The warriors stiffened.
Alvaro and Deviro exchanged a sharp, uneasy glance.
Without another word, they turned—and hastened their pace toward the palace.
Because whatever this girl was…
She was trouble.