Two days before the king's desperate proclamation, before the kingdom learned its jewel had vanished, a girl named Meredith opened her eyes to a world that was not her own.
Her first thought was panic. Where the fuck am I?
Just two nights ago, she had been cramming routines for the cheerleading championship, arguing with her best friend about pom colors. And now—she was sprawled in ragged sheets, wearing what looked like a cross between a Victorian gown and something dragged from a costume chest. Her skin was powdered in a chalky white paste, a string of gaudy French corals hung heavy at her throat, and grime clung to her nails.
When she stumbled to the cracked window, her confusion only deepened.
Two suns.A barren wasteland stretched beyond the walls, its soil like ash. She felt a thirst so sharp it clawed at her throat. The air was hot, choking, and smelled faintly of rust.
"This… this is hell," she whispered.
Then came the pain—blistering memories that weren't hers. They seared through her head like lightning, filling her with half-formed recollections: ballrooms, suitors, arguments, laughter, and despair. She wasn't Meredith anymore. Or rather, she was Meredith trapped in the body of a princess—headstrong, defiant, a girl who had humiliated every suitor her father had presented. A princess who, unable to accept her fate, had leapt into a well to escape it all.
And instead of death, she had landed here.
The bushes rustled. Meredith turned—and froze.
Eyes glowed crimson through the thorny cactus-like bramble. Goblins. Small, twisted creatures, their gnarled hands clutching crude wooden clubs. Their laughter was shrill and filthy. Their stares crawled across her body like insects.
"No, no, no—"
She tried to run. Her skirts tangled her legs, and before she could sprint, one of the beasts struck her down. Pain lanced through her ribs, and the world spun. The goblins whooped, bound her wrists, and dragged her like spoils of war.
Through twisting caves they carried her, past slick walls alive with rats, snakes, and mole-like beasts the size of oxen. The stench grew fouler with each step, until she was thrust into a cavern vast as a cathedral.
A dragon's lair.
The goblins set her on a crude stone table. Around her, grotesque vegetables were hacked apart—mandrakes that screamed like infants, green carrots oozing foul sap, mushrooms with faces that grinned and shrieked. The air reeked of burning flesh from the massive hearth that roared in the corner.
"This isn't real. This is a dream. Wake up, Meredith, wake up—" she muttered, trembling as the goblins lifted her once more.
They dragged her toward a pot so large it could swallow five men whole. Boiling liquid hissed, spitting droplets that blistered the floor. They meant to throw her in.
And then—
The ceiling split with a thunderous crack. A knight descended on ropes that shimmered faintly with runes. His sword flashed, scattering goblins like dry leaves. He seized her in one arm and pulled her from the brink just as the cauldron's steam licked her skin.
Meredith gasped once—then blacked out.
When she opened her eyes again, she was bound across the saddle of a massive warhorse. Hunger gnawed at her belly, thirst cracked her lips, and her limbs ached with every jolt of the ride. The knight was faceless, his head encased in an iron mask, his body broad and unyielding as stone.
She shut her eyes again, feigning unconsciousness, though she was painfully awake. Memories of the princess—the real princess whose body she now wore—pressed at her mind. A father. A kingdom. Suitors she had driven away. And now, a faceless knight delivering her back to a place she wasn't sure she belonged.
As the gates of the palace loomed ahead, Meredith—princess, cheerleader, impostor—remained silent. She would not humiliate herself before a man who claimed to be her father.
So she let herself be carried like cargo into the lion's den.