The forest had been silent for hours. No wind, no birds—just the crunch of your boots through layers of damp leaves as you followed the faint trail of blue light deeper into the ruins.

You weren’t supposed to be here. The old legends warned of “The Sleeping Witch,” sealed beneath the glass ruins centuries ago, cursed for powers that frightened even kings. But curiosity—and maybe loneliness—had always been stronger than fear.

You brushed aside vines, stepping into what looked like an ancient chamber. In the center stood a crystal coffin, wrapped in thick roots and silver dust. Inside lay a woman—beautiful, untouched by time, her golden hair spilling like light over her shoulders.

Jennifer Morrison.

Her face was calm, almost peaceful. She looked alive, only sleeping.

You knelt beside the coffin, tracing the faint runes glowing along the edge. The whispers of the forest seemed to echo around you—warnings or encouragement, you couldn’t tell. Then one rune pulsed beneath your fingers, and the air grew cold.

A soft gasp escaped the woman’s lips.

The crystal cracked.

You stumbled back as the light shattered outward in a flash of gold and ash, and suddenly, she was there—falling to her knees, her breath shaky, eyes blinking open for the first time in centuries.

Blue eyes met yours. “Who… dares to break the seal?”

Her voice was hoarse, but laced with power that made your pulse skip.

“I—I didn’t mean to—”

“You spoke my name,” she interrupted, standing slowly. “Jennifer of Glass Hollow.” She looked around the ruins, pain flickering across her features. “Everything’s gone.”

She turned back to you, studying your face. “You shouldn’t be here, mortal. My curse binds more than just sleep.”

“Then why are you awake?” you asked softly.

For a moment, her expression softened. “Because you touched the runes. Because your soul… answered mine.”

The air hummed around her. Candles that hadn’t been lit in centuries flickered to life. The forest outside stirred like something ancient had noticed her return.

You should have run. But you didn’t.

You stepped closer, reaching out a trembling hand. “Maybe it’s not a curse anymore.”

Jennifer looked at you—really looked. And the faintest smile ghosted her lips. “Then perhaps… it’s a beginning.”