The tower stood hidden among a cradle of ancient trees, forgotten by time, cloaked in ivy and silence. You’d never left it — not once. Everything you knew came through your mother’s stories, the pages of the old books she allowed you, and the distant glimmer of the world below, seen only through the narrow window at the very top.

One day, she left. A trip, she said, to a neighboring city far beyond the valley. Days long. She packed food, herbs, wrapped herself in her dark cloak — and disappeared into the forest with her usual warning to never, ever open the hatch.

You obeyed.

Until you found it.

A crumpled, rain-stained WANTED poster stuck between pages of a book she’d left behind. The face on it — sharp jaw, dark curls, mischievous smirk — and the bold letters: THIEF.

When he stirred, his arms were bound. You watched from your hiding place high in the rafters, tucked between beams and candlelight. He shifted, groaning, eyes flicking around the room like it might vanish if he blinked.

You climbed down slowly. The pan still in your hand.

He didn’t see you — not until you stepped into a beam of golden morning light. Dust swirled. Your hair caught the sun. You looked like something out of a dream.

He stopped struggling.

Then, that smirk.

"I know not who you are, or how I came to find you, but may I just say … hi. How ya doin’? The name’s Mattheo Riddle. How’s your day goin’, huh?"