In Bridlewood, streets appeared empty, as if no one lived there. No one was strolling along the cobblestone paths or sitting on the veranda engaged in daily chores, and the sun was streaming through every window at what looked like late afternoon.
The villagers who were expected to be at Willowsquare, busy celebrating a Royal wedding and savouring exquisite royal dishes they had never dreamed of tasting in their lives, were instead merely waking up in their beds, dressed in their nightclothes.
A sudden gust of confusion swept through the village as people arose from their sleep, blinking in the unexpected brightness. They were the villagers who didn't have the luxury of sleeping late and awakened whenever they wished. They were dedicated to their work. To rise with the first ray of dawn to provide basic needs for themselves and for their families.
In one of the modest homes, a man named Williard snapped upright in bed, rubbing his eyes. He noticed the angle of the sunlight, and his eyes turned wide. He let out a frustrated groan.
"Lydia!" he barked. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?"
His wife, Lydia, who slept on the mattress on the floor, sat up abruptly, looking flustered. Her cheeks were flushed with confusion while her eyes tried to adjust to the daylight.
"I... I don't know how I slept so long," she stammered. "It felt like one moment it was the middle of the night, and now..."
Williard's brows knit in anger. "Is that your excuse?" he snarled, swinging his legs out of bed. "The Crown Prince's wedding was today—our only chance to see such a grand event. And now we have missed it. And all because of you!"
He lunged forward and struck Lydia across the face with an open hand, causing her to fall onto the side.
"Worthless!" he snapped. "All because you were too lazy to do your duty!"
Tears welled in Lydia's eyes as she crumpled to her knees. "I'm sorry," she whispered, voice shaking. "I truly don't know what happened. It's like...."
Williard strode to the wardrobe and snatched up a leather belt. "You think I care about your nonsense excuses? This was my only chance to witness history, and you ruined it."
As he raised his arm, ready to strike again, a knock at the door shattered the tense atmosphere, startling them both. Lydia scrambled to her feet, her cheek still stinging. Her heart raced with both fear and relief that someone had intervened.
"Father... Mother..." came the voice of a small boy, soft and innocent. He knocked on the door again, rubbing one sleepy eye.
Williard hastily dropped the leather belt, straightened his clothes, and opened the door.
"Son, did you have a good sleep?" he asked, scooping his six-year-old boy into his arms. His tone changed dramatically from accusing to gentle, as though he hadn't been yelling in anger just moments before. Carrying his son to the small couch, he settled him there.
"Father, I had a dream," the boy began, "and in that dream, we went to the Crown Prince's wedding. It was so grand, but then these seven scary people came into the church..."
The air around Williard froze as he listened to his son's words. He had dreamt the same thing.
From the bedroom, Lydia emerged in fresh clothes and overheard her son's story. Her eyes flicked to Williard's, noticing he appeared just as alarmed as she felt. She, too, had experienced the same bizarre dream.
Williard stood up. "Stay here," he ordered Lydia firmly. "I'm going next door." He changed into a cleaner shirt and trousers, then headed to the neighbouring house, his mind reeling. Could everyone have had this same dream?
As he knocked on his neighbour's door, he could see similar bewilderment on their faces when they answered the door—dishevelled clothes and worried eyes.
Throughout the village, families were waking up at the same time, each convinced they had dreamed of the Crown Prince's wedding and the seven ominous strangers who crashed it.
Panicked, Harold and Sigrid rushed to their daughters' shared bedroom, their hearts pounding in their chests. As the door opened, they saw their youngest daughter, Melina, lying asleep on one bed, but Meribella's bed was conspicuously empty.
And that sight made Sigrid gasped in anguish and sank to her knees.
"Where is our Meribella?" she sobbed in her trembling voice.
Her cries startled Melina awake. Rubbing her eyes, she noticed her mother sobbing on the floor, her father standing beside her mother, looking worried and the untouched bed of Meribella.
"Mama... Are we late for the wedding?" she asked in a small, confused voice.
The room was spacious for a modest cottage. It had two beds on opposite sides, a simple wooden dresser, and a window overlooking the garden.
Despite their fallen noble status, Harold and Sigrid ensured their home had two bedrooms, each with a small attached washroom, a living area, and a kitchen. They might no longer be wealthy, but they valued comfort and privacy for their daughters.
Harold gently helped Sigrid stand. His firm grip around his wife's shoulders gave her emotional support yet her worry refused to fade away.
"I had a strange dream, Papa, about Meribella's wedding."
"No, Meli," Harold said, his voice trembling slightly as worry spread across his face. "It wasn't just a dream. We fear the wedding truly happened—and somehow, we've ended up back here without Bella."
Just then, a series of forceful knocks thundered against the front door, making all three jump. The unexpected noise sent another wave of panic coursing through them.
They were uncertain about the kind of news that might be waiting for them on the other side. Faye's family put on their best outfits, and Harlord, inhaling deeply, opened the door to find villagers gathered outside their house holding unlit torches in their hands.
*
*
*
Far away from Brindlewood, a heavy silence fell over the clearing where Meribella and the seven lords had paused for rest.
The pot of soup continued to simmer over the crackling wooden fire. Meribella remained seated on a sizable rock, her hands pressed against it for stability. Her gaze was locked on nine gigantic snakes in fear, and her heart raced like a bird caught in a cage, and each of the monstrous snakes raised high on its coiling tail.
They were massive—some at least twelve or thirteen feet high, while others towered even taller. Their scales glistened with an oily sheen under the sunlight, and their forked tongues darted out, hissing. Some smiled so widely that their pointed fangs were visible. Meribella narrowed her eyes, rubbed them, and pinched her wrist to convince herself that it was all real and not one of her fantasy dreams.
They resembled giant serpentine beasts with fangs like vampires, ready to feast on them. Their cold, red eyes were fixed ominously on the group.
"A-are we going to die?" Meribella wanted to ask the seven lords louder, but she only whispered so the snake beasts wouldn't hear her and feel compelled to attack her first.
"So young and yet already champion of a terrible memory," Raze said, throwing Meribella a mocking glance. "Did you forget, little witch, what I promised in the church, under the eye of your holy god?" He tilted his head. "You're safe with me."
But Meribella wasn't convinced. She was in a panic state. Her legs were trembling so much that running felt impossible. If she could move, she would have left these lords and the giant snakes—to their madness.
"I'm not with you right now," she countered, nodding at the gap between them. "You're five whole steps away, and I'm stuck on this rock. If you intend to uphold your promise, you should stay here...," she patted the stone beneath her. "close… with me." Her tone wavered between fear and a bizarre sense of demand.
"Close?" Raze quirked an eyebrow. "With you?" He shook his head in irritation. She was a nuisance who needed to improve her communication skills.
"Yes, with me!"
Today was supposed to be her wedding day, full of roses and vows she would never forget. Yet here, Meribella found herself with rumoured omen lords and the giant snake beasts. This was not the memory she had hoped for, she thought disappointedly.
Meribella drew in a shaky breath as her frustration hit its breaking point.
"Why don't you wave that magic wand or snap your fingers again?" Meribella continued as her exasperation raised, "And transport us somewhere else? hmm?" Meribella proposed an alternative rather than waiting for them to become an afternoon snack. "I am done for today. I'm tired, I want a bed, and I have no interest in being swallowed alive by a giant reptile." She pleaded, looking into Raze's eyes as he watched her, "Please...Just take me to the bed."
In her nervousness, the words slipped out wrong. All she really wanted was to close her eyes, drift off into sleep, and wake up to find this whole ordeal had been nothing but a terrible dream.
Raze shot her an icy glare. "You should stop talking," he muttered, turning back to the threat at hand.
Meanwhile, the other lords kept their weapons raised, trying to stay vigilant. But the conversation exchange between Raze and Meribella, particularly her suggestive choice of phrases, was hard to ignore, even as danger loomed.
Suddenly, one of the snakes lunged forward, materialising two huge hands holding a materialised sword and attacked, followed by others.
Meribella's eyeballs popped out of their sockets in shock. "Should you not give me a sword to protect myself?" How could she remain quiet when death was only a few meters away from her?