Her disappointment is a tangible thing, a murky blanket weighing her down as she stares blankly up from her mattress.

No one knows when Sir Han will be back. Apparently, it’s simply how the man operates: here one day then gone the next, disappearing into the countryside with his apprentice in tow.

“No one really knows what they get up to either,” Seraphina had said bemusedly. “A large portion of the magic tower’s work is confidential to begin with; but even when not, I suppose not many people feel inclined to know more.”

“Really? Why not?”

“Personally, I hold no interest in the royal mage nor his apprentice,” Seraphina said, tone turning wry. “But as for everyone else… let’s just say that biases remain difficult things to overcome.”

Aster blows out a breath through her mouth, wispy strands of white fluttering away from her face.

No lead on the maze. And no lead on Damien either.

After a few more minutes of mindless staring, she begins to push herself upright. Moping around for too long was never her style. Plus, it got old real fast.

She slides off the bed, making her way to the bookshelf in her study. A finger lifts up to trace over the selection of books she’d brought with her from home, hovering over spines with cracked edges and stiff hardcovers crammed with illustrations. She pauses on a thin hardback, pulling it out from the shelf before she flops unceremoniously into her chair.

The Princess and the Wisp. A fairytale, like most of the stories she’d brought along with her from home.

To be honest, Aster’s never been all that good at studying. If it weren’t for the agreement she made with her father or what little sense of duty she actually possessed, she would’ve been more than happy to skip out on her lectures in favour of running rampant around the estate.

Having someone explain concepts and theories orally to hear made the ordeal somewhat less painful, because then at least she could have someone to bounce ideas off of. It’s the main reason why she had Seraphina accompany her every time she visited the library, just so she could keep Aster from drooling onto the pages of the denser books they had to crack open in pursuit of answers.

Now, she flips her storybook open, yellow-edged paper and elaborately drawn ink warm with nostalgia under her fingertips.

Once upon a time, the story started, (the way all the best stories do). There was a princess who lived in a beautiful castle. In her castle, she had everything she could ever want. Delicious feasts fit for a princess. Exquisite gowns and shining jewels. Parents who pampered her and an adoring staff.

The princess herself, was as lovely as a freshly plucked flower. Her smile was effervescent, radiant enough to rival the sun. Her voice put birdsong to shame. Never a day passed by where the castle did not echo with her sweet song. Never a day passed by where it was not encased in gentle sun.

But the princess, lovely and bright as she was, could never step out of the castle. For she harboured a dark secret.

You see, the princess was cursed.

And yet, she never paid her curse much mind. She was happy in her castle, with her doting parents and attentive staff. She was content.

Until one day, a wisp of a shadow appeared before her.

“Do you not wish to see what lies outside of this castle?”

It would come to her when she was alone, sneaking into her dreams, slipping past her defenses. It would whisper to her of scenery that she could never imagine, songs that she’d never even heard of, people and places and wonders just out of her reach. Soon, doubt began to creep into her mind.

“The outside that you speak of is beautiful,” the princess said to the wisp one day. “But I cannot leave this place, for I am cursed.”

“What if I could take your curse away?” The wisp asked. “I could set you free.”

The princess grew excited. Would she be able to leave her castle after all?

“But you must know,” the wisp said. “That once I take away your curse, you will never be able to return to this castle.”

The princess was shocked. Did that mean leaving behind her parents? Her loving servants?

“Yes. But think about the world outside, princess. Think of what you are missing out on. Will you remain in your ornate bubble? Or will you finally spread your wings and soar free?”

The princess was unable to decide. Surely there must be a way? A way for her to break the curse without having to forsake her family?

“There is not,” the wisp said gravely. “Such is the gravity of your curse. But I understand your distress. I shall let you think it over. Should you wish to be free of your curse and leave, call upon me, princess.” And with a whisper of smoke, the wisp disappeared, leaving behind a shining silver bell in its wake.

Aster flips to the last page, even though she knows how it will end.

The princess never ends up using the bell and decides to remain in her castle, forever cursed.

Maybe there’s a story to be had after the resolution; a tale of the princess breaking free from the shackles of her curse and finding freedom on her own grounds. Alas, if such a sequel indeed exists, Aster hasn’t found it yet.

It had been a tad disappointing at first, reaching the story’s conclusion during her first readthrough as a child. But now, Aster finds herself actually empathising with the princess in her storybook.

Could she do it? Aster wonders. Trade a life of happiness for one entirely unknown?

Would she?

She closes the storybook gently, cradling it to her chest as she melts into her chair. Revisiting her childhood favourites always reminded her of happier days. When things like engagements and formalities were faraway blips in the future, and every day was just another adventure waiting to happen. Another tree to climb, another undiscovered patch of forest to explore, another tasty treat in the kitchen waiting to be tasted by eager fingers. Another day to while away with Damien.

He'd always hated the Princess and the Wisp; it was his least favourite out of her collection. “The princess should’ve just taken the wisp hostage and made it cough up the way to break her curse,” he used to grumble. “That’s what I’d do.”

“How’s she supposed to do that?” Aster had asked.

“I dunno, she could’ve sat on it or something.”

“Sat on it?!”

“Trapped it in a bottle. Held it at knifepoint. I don’t know, I’m not the princess!”

Aster laughs a little at the memory. Their conversations were always filled with childish nonsense, and yet even those trivial talks were now things that she held most dear.

What she’d give to talk about nothing with Damien again. What she’d give to know what he’s getting up to now.

Is he staying out of trouble?

Does he have a roof over his head?

Hale, is he even in Lucrenz anymore?

A faint knocking comes from her door.

Aster glances warily over. Was it Seraphina? At this hour?

But why would she come unannounced?

When no one proceeds to enter, Aster relaxes once more, sure that she’d misheard.

Knock knock.

She jolts upright. She definitely didn’t imagine that. And…

Her gaze falls hesitantly onto her balcony doors.

Knock.

She’s sure of it. The knocking had come from there.

An intruder? A stray tree branch? A… A ghost?

Knock knock knock.

Should she call for Seraphina? But what if the knocking stops by the time she gets here?

Knock knock.

Aster wills her frozen limbs to unlock themselves.

Knock.

She weighs over her options. Calling for help is out of the question. What if it isn’t a threat at her balcony? If the looks she gets around the palace are any indication, her reputation is already shaky as is. The last thing she needs is a false scare to fan the flames.

Knock knock knock.

She reaches for the wrought iron candlestick sitting on her desk and rises to her feet. Inch by shaky inch, she makes her way slowly towards the doors.

Knock knock.

Is she imagining it? Or did it almost sound like the knocking…

Knock.

…had a pattern.

Aster pauses. Waits.

Knock knock knock.

Pause.

Knock knock.

Pause.

Knock.

And then again. The same sequence, over and over. Like a code. Like…

A signal.

The realisation stops her right in her tracks.

“No,” Aster thinks, even as hope surges through her like a rising wave. “It couldn’t be.”

She barely registers her feet as they cross the floor in seconds, hands reaching out to fling the balcony doors wide open.

Aster stands in the doorway, winter air rushing in to nip at her cheeks. But there is no one on her landing. There is nothing but the night; cold and still and silent.

All her anticipation escapes her body in a crushing exhale.

What was she thinking? Of course he wasn’t here. As if he’d appear out of nowhere just because she missed him- just because she wanted him to show up.

A sigh tumbles out of her mouth, unbidden. Aster reaches for the balcony doors.

Time to stop dreaming, Aster Vastein.

“Hey, princess.”

She freezes, the doors already mostly closed.

She’s hearing things. She must be.

Still, Aster pushes the doors back open.

Then she looks up.

There’s a boy standing on the overhang of the doorway, feet poised on the ledge as he peers down at her.

The candlestick Aster had been holding falls to the floor with a clatter. Her mouth forms on a word – a name - but no sound comes. All she can do is stare incredulously.

The boy seems to stifle a laugh at her reaction, a smile playing across his features. Lazy. Familiar.

Then he steps off the ledge.

He tips forward, body suspended weightlessly for a second, before he begins to descend. Down down down he floats headfirst, only coming to a stop once he’s face to face with Aster. His raven hair falls away from his face, leaving those turquoise eyes to twinkle back at her in undisguised mirth. Blue as summer and sea glass; the colour of Aster’s fondest memories.

Then he grins.

“Long time no see.”