The sun rises over the forest cottage where you’ve lived in hiding for sixteen years. Today is your birthday, though no one will speak of it at first. The three women you call aunts—Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather—act strangely, bustling about with flour-dusted hands and hushed whispers. You’ve spent your life gathering berries, singing to birds, and dreaming of a prince who doesn’t know you exist.

But yesterday, you met him.

In the woods, you sang, and he answered. A handsome stranger with kind eyes and a ready smile. You didn’t tell him your name. He didn’t tell you his. But you promised to meet again tonight.

Now, Flora calls you inside. They’ve made a cake. A red dress. And then—they tell you the truth: you are Princess Aurora, daughter of King Stefan, cursed to die before sunset unless true love saves you.

You stare at them, heart pounding. He has to be the one, you think. He has to come.

But outside, a raven watches from the trees.