"A woman?"

"She's ghastly!"

"Mama, why is there a corpse?"

Cateline's eyes opened wide as she gasped for air, her body soaked and clothes wrinkled. Directly above her was a girl with blonde hair and the purest blue eyes, her lips curling into a frown as she screamed. She ran away, tucking away behind her father. Cateline's chest heaved up and down with each breath, sitting up carefully before turning to look at the family who stared at her like she was a ghost. Cateline shuddered and backed away from them on all fours, her bottom dragging along the grass with each shove. Smashing into what felt like a picket fence, she cried out and held the back of her head. As she looked at her fingers, she noticed no blood, no indication of a wound. It was only wrinkled from the water.

What in the world?

The man stepped forward, his grip around a cleaver tight and his brow furrowed. "Tell me, whater' you doin' here?"

Cateline opened her mouth a few times to respond, only air croaking out. Holding a hand over her throat, she leaned over and coughed up a mixture of water and blood. Everything hurt, even if she had no wounds. Tearing her eyes away from the bloody spit on the grass, she looked around swiftly and felt the panic settle in her chest. Growing harder and harder to breathe, she placed a hand over her chest and thought of her brothers.

It was difficult to overhear as the child cried out for her mother, but Cateline could decipher the matron saying Cateline needed water. "Water would be lovely."

They all twisted their heads to look at her, leaning forward to hear her whisper of a voice. "Water?" The matron asked. "Senevia, go grab a cup and fill it with water, please."

Cateline wiped her mouth, watching the child hesitate before running off. She disappeared around the back of a cottage, the stone building seemingly humble to Cateline. Smoke wafted out of the fireplace, dispersing into the sky in gray plumes.

At the edge of this lot, the grass transitioned into golden sand. The freshwater of a river splashed idly in the background, running downstream to what appeared to be a lake just past this residency. There were many homes here, too. It didn't feel like Axulran, her home, although Cateline wouldn't have a clue what the outskirts of the Kingdom looked like.

She was never allowed to venture there.

Still, despite this ignorance, this city felt warmer than her homeland. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the mountains in the distance were topped with grass and dirt, not ice and snow.

"What's yer name?" The man challenged, waving his knife at her. She snapped her head up at him, frightfully raising a brow.

Mouth parting at the threatening man, she stuttered a response. "C-Cateline, of Axulran."

Cateline concealed her title, she feared what these peasants would do to her if they knew of her status. She was in an unknown land, the greenery as vibrant as the cliff she could have sworn she was just on.

Luckily, there was no rain.

Unluckily, she was just as terrified.

The child came back into the picture, slowing her jog to a hesitant walk, the cup shaking in her hand as she reached her arms out as far as possible to hand it to her. Accepting it gladly, she drank the water until the full cup was empty.

"Axerl-ran?" The man asked. "Across the Emerald Staght?"

"Strait." the matron corrected. "Yes, across the Emerald Strait."

Cateline set the cup on the grass before standing, lifting her hand to observe the gash from the woods. What was once bloody and raw now as smooth as silk. Looking up at them, she stood with her heavy dress and chapped lips. So, she wasn't in Axulran afterall.

"D-do you know how I g-got here?" Cateline stuttered, drawing her arms across her chest as she shivered. Despite the greenery and sunlight that surrounded, the air was frigid. She knew her wet clothes only worsened this.

"You floated up tee pond!" The man screamed, lifting his hands up in the air. "Yee were brokeen and tattered, but when I pulled yee in... poof! Alive, awake, and put back teegether!"

Cateline's face twisted in disbelief, finding it hard to follow the man with the difficult dialect. There was simply no way she floated up that strait. Impossible.

"You look cold," the woman said and stepped forward. She lowered the man's hand which held the cleaver, stroking her thumb across his knuckles calmly before nodding. "Why don't we get you some stew and a fresh set of clothes?"

Cateline eyed the cleaver, turning to look around her. There were a few houses scattered about, farmers in the distance pulling hay in wooden wheelbarrows. There was a lake nearby, but nothing else. As Cateline saw it, she didn't have much of a choice. So she nodded.

"Perfect." the matron then turned to her daughter who was hiding behind her. "Senevia, please go fetch one of my gowns while you are grabbing another glass. I need to get Cateline away from this wind."

Cateline sat in a blue cotton dress, the fabric itchy and tattered at the end of her skirt. She was on a wooden chair, the child sitting criss-cross on the floor and staring up at her while her mother prepared the stew. The father was outside, distracting himself after arguing with the matron. There was a fire to her right, warming her as she recuperated.

She had never understood dehydration, as water was ample and plentiful even for the poorest villager, but she was on her third glass and her throat still was like sandpaper against her windpipes. Coughing between gulps, Cateline attempted to drink in a respectful manner but failed miserably.

"Where is Axulran?" The girl asked as Cateline set the now empty glass down.

Turning her head, Cateline looked at the child with raised eyebrows. She didn't know, for she had never left her kingdom walls before. Cateline hardly visited the cities that her kingdom controlled, let alone visit neighboring ones.

"I... well, I am not so sure, Senevia. I don't know where I am now. I think your father said it was across a strait."

"Well, then, what is it like?"

"Snowy. It snows year-round, even when the summer sun pays a visit. We call it our own eternal frost."

"Sounds miserable."

Cateline smiled subtly, lowering her stare to the wooden floorboard. "You get used to it. We cannot control what is given to us by nature, so we learned to embrace it."

Senevia nodded and scooted closer, peering around Cateline dramatically before returning front and center. "Who are you? You can tell me, I won't tell no one!"

Cateline's pursed her lips, curling her fingers into her palms as a means to distract from the anxiety of this question. "You are full of good questions, are you not?"

Senevia furrowed her brow and huffed out. "That is no answer."

Cateline chuckled breathily, keeping her eyes on the curious girl for a moment before her mother came back in. She felt at ease around Senevia, perhaps it was that childish curiosity.

"Senevia!" her mother scolded as she approached with a bowl. "I will not tolerate this behavior. Go on, scram, you will be eating after our guest has been fed."

Senevia pouted, not budging until her mother gave her a look only a mother could. Her lips were pursed and thin, wrinkles forming at the corners as she tapped her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Within an instant, the child was up and out the backdoor.

"My apologies, Cateline."

Cateline moved to a small wooden table, accepting the bowl as the matron laid it before her. She peered into the mysterious liquid, a strong stench of herbs and rotten meat filling the airways. It was brown, dark brown, and light brown—little color was left to please the eyes.

"What is your name?" Cateline asked, looking at either side of the bowl for silverware. There was none. As the matron sat down, she watched as she lifted it to her lips and drank from it.

This method of eating did not allow her to be picky, and as she drew the edge of the bowl to take a sip, the stench could have made her gag. That being said, Cateline was famished. She would eat a raw cow if it meant she would get food. Still, the idea of silverware was a distant daydream now.

"Petunya Liverstone."

Cateline mouthed her first name, nodding carefully as she set the stew down. It tasted fine, bland, and otherwise unexciting despite the smell. "And your husband?"

"That is Joseph, a drunkard, and a carpenter."

Cateline nodded, folding her hands across her lap, and looked around the cottage. It was chillier here, further away from the fire and closer to an open window. There was a flame on the table that flickered as a gust of wind flowed through the house, but Petunya seemed unphased. Cateline wondered what had happened, and how she survived the trip. This was clearly not Axulran, with its green landscape and sunnier skies. Overall, Cateline felt normal, and that alone worried her beyond belief. Despite this complacency, the idea of floating across an open body of water and somehow ending up at this strange town made her queasy. More than anything, she was fearful to show this anxiety.

So, she forced herself to smile and fake a conversation.

"So, Cateline, how did you end up left for dead in the strait? That is a hellish place for a woman to be left in."

Clearing her throat, she blinked and bit the corner of her cheek. "If I am being honest, I do not know."

Petunya looked at her with wide eyes, blinking once, twice, thrice... and then nodded. Cateline could tell she held a million questions beneath that stare, but this was a mother. She was used to keeping her mouth shut and not prodding too much. Even as royalty, her mother was the same. Well-tempered, and quiet. Cateline told herself she would never be that way from a very young age, and that her Prince would be a gentleman—unlike her father.

"I was with my parents shortly before I fell unconscious," Cateline recalled quietly. "We were at a party."

That much was true, technically. Cateline was preparing for a soiree of suitors wishing to sweep the dear Princess off her feet. Not that she remembered much, but she obviously wasn't with the man of her dreams. The only man here was large, sweaty and mean.

"That is unfortunate, Cateline. I hope you are able to find your answers."

The answers for the since forgotten yearn for you, that melodic voice chimed in her head. Cateline gripped at the table as if to ground her in reality. Petunya wiped her mouth with a washcloth and looked at her with concern. Daggernest beckons for you, a white, scaled dragon awaits at the gates of your fate.

"Cateline?"

The voice rang throughout her head like it was echoing in a chamber. It sounded warm now, a radiant voice as opposed to an ominous one. It was trying to guide her, but she doubted its intent. It made her walk off the edge of a cliff, after all.

"Sorry," Cateline whispered shakily, "I've got a cramp. Must have been from the water."

"Perhaps... Let's move you by the fire again."

Cateline shook her head, the ringing still distracting her from acting normal. Jumping to her feet, she let out a huff and made ways towards the back door. "I must go, Petunya."

"Cateline, it is chilled outside. You will catch frostbite, your hair is not yet dry!"

"I will return, but I need fresh air. A moment, please."

As Cateline moved outside, the wind picked up again. Her blue gown flapped in the direction of the gust, Joseph and Senevia looking at her as she passed them by in a scurry.

"Cateline!" Senevia called after. "Where are you going?"

Ignoring the child's call, she opened the gate and made way towards a gentle glowing aura. As she neared it, brick and wooden buildings began to come into view. There were a few people running about, tying rope around planks of wood and bartering with merchants. Cateline nodded towards a woman who passed her by, her teeth yellowed and broken when she smiled.

It felt strange. In Axulran, the citizens would curtsy and bow as a greeting. Now, she was one of them, or as far as they were aware at least. Pinching her palm, her eyes landed on a sign with a hand-carved pitcher of beer, the words "Tavern" printed alongside it.

Gulping, Cateline made a few careful strides towards it and grabbed hold of the handle. Just as she got the courage to push the door open, a group of men pushed it open and sent her backward.

"Hey!" She called out as she fell on her behind.

They looked down at her, their eyes hazy and narrow. With a disgusting, gruntled chuckle they offered a hand to help her up. She refused and stood up by herself, wiping the dirt from her gown and crossed her arms.

"Apologies, madam, but you should really avoid running into doors."

"Perhaps you should avoid walking, you are clearly deficient at that." Cateline retorted, moving between the two and gasping when they both grabbed her by the arms.

"A smart mouth is not a good look for a lady," one of them said with a snicker. When she looked up at him, his eyes were dark and beady, drinking her in like she was a glass of mead. He had a balding head, the brown hair littered with gray strands all throughout. She yanked her arm away from him, only being replaced with a stronger grip from the other man.

"Who raised you? The manners of a prostitute are nicer than you!"

"The bitch would be prettier, too, I think she needs to lighten up a little..."

The beady-eyed man grabbed the top button of her gown and tried to snap it open, but Cateline kicked his shin and sent him howling. Her breathing became labored and the skin of her wrists bruised.

"Let me go, and you won't have to see the likes of me again!"

"Not a chance," the man that was holding her said. "You're quite a catch, I like them feisty."

Cateline grimaced, closing her eyes as his breath tickled her earlobe. She felt useless, each yank on her end was met with a tighter grasp by his large, rough hands. Her heart rate increased, the air around her ringing as her stomach churned. There were so many people around her, but none of them paid mind.

"Loosen up a little, wretch."

Despite the frigid air, her hands began to grow warm. When she looked down at her wrists, she noticed the subtlest blue hue and radiant glow. Pushing away from him, she screamed as his fingernails tore into her skin. That was when it exploded.

The energy that grew from her core and extended into her arms turned to reality. She hadn't felt this feeling since she was a child, when her mother gifted her with a pendant necklace that was supposed to conceal her magic. A pendant necklace that was missing.

Magic was forbidden, especially for a Princess. This energy felt good, like an ultimate release of frustration and anger.

Shards of ice flew out of the tips of her fingers, stabbing the man in the arm and gut. Cateline screamed at the sight, covering her mouth as she watched the man bleed and fall to his knees. He looked at her with discontentment, anger and fear. The unharmed friend hollered.

"A witch! This witch just stabbed my brother!" his voice boomed, his hand reaching up in a fist to swing at her. Gasping, she ducked away and looked between the impaled man who lay on the ground, and the angered brother. The sight of that blood made her sick, and the fact that the spears of ice shot from her fingers shook her to her core. Magic was supposed to be an afterthought, a trait so obscure and distant that it could have never existed at all.

She held her hands up to surrender, her lip puckered into a pout as she croaked out a plea. "I-I didn't mean to, sir, I promise! But, you two were hurting me. You must believe me."

Cateline fell sick. Partially because she had either murdered or nearly murdered a man, but also because she just apologized to a duo that was about to do sick, sick things to her. She was fortunate and wealthy beyond measure, but she was not stupid. Her mother made sure she was as wise as any other scholar throughout this land.

A group began to form, made of farmers and peasants. A few mothers held their children behind them while the fathers grumbled to their families. They all shared one thing in common, though—they glared at her with such anger and disgust it made her want to weep. Coming from aristocracy, she knew that only the royals who were about to be beheaded by their own people received those looks.

The man lunged at her once more, Cateline tripping out of the way just in time before a bystander grabbed her by the shoulders and wrapped his arm around her neck. She gasped out, trying her best to alleviate the pressure by yanking on his arm. She was about to be publicly executed.

Cateline's airways tightened with each gasp, her eyes growing wide as the man who held her back talked casually with the drunken attacker, his hold around her neck growing more severe with her every move.

"Let me go!" Cateline demanded, her hands growing as cold as ice as she tore into the flesh of his arm with her nails. The man howled out, dropping his grip, and looked at his arm. He hollered when ice appeared like magic, crawling up to his elbow and freezing his arm in place. Cateline's eyelids grew heavy, her heart beating against her chest like a stone hammer to a slate. Stumbling, Cateline grabbed onto a wooden fence to support herself as the world tumbled and buzzed. Drained was hardly enough to describe Cateline's state. She was falling ill and couldn't support herself from the energy drain.

"This witch deserves a proper send off," he said and tapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth mockingly. Reaching over to a workbench by a half-built fence, he grabbed a chisel and flipped it in the air while walking towards her. "A sacrifice for your silly little devil."

Cateline gasped as the man took her hair in a fistful, yanking her head back so her small adam's apple protruded out. He held the chisel to her neck, his stare on her dead and emotionless. Cateline closed her eyes and gulped while her legs gave way as she tried to move.

"This is for stabbing my fucking brother, you good for nothing who—"

Just as he was about to finish his sentence, Cateline felt the sharpened corner of the chisel graze against her skin and release before it was able to slice into her artery. Letting out a sigh of relief, she almost expected to look up at the man and thank him for his mercy. When she did open her eyes, she saw a man fall with such a loud thud it could have been mistaken for as stone. He looked untouched, his nostrils still moving as he breathed in and out, but he was motionless. Despite her best effort, Cateline let the hoods of her eyes close as the world shifted in and out of focus.

"I swear, Varin, if this tavern gets us in one more bar fight I will never come out here with you again." a voice growing nearer in a grumble.

"This does not count," the other voice said, "it did not happen in a bar, and he did not put up much of a fight."

"Yes, well, this issue might be worse than any fight we have been in yet. What are we to do with her?"