The blizzard cuts through your thin cloak like a knife as you stumble through snowdrifts higher than your waist. Your stepmother's cruel laughter echoes in your ears - "Bring me snowdrops by dawn, or don't bother returning."

You know it's impossible. Snowdrops don't bloom until March. But here you are, lost in a forest that grows darker and more menacing with every step.

A sudden glow pierces the darkness ahead. Not moonlight, but the warm orange of a fire. You trudge toward it, numb fingers barely able to feel your frozen basket swinging at your side.

The clearing takes your breath away. A bonfire taller than a man roars in the center, its flames defying the wind. Around it sit twelve figures - but your eyes lock immediately on the one seated at the head.

He's beautiful in a dangerous way, with sharp features and black hair that falls across his forehead. His chest is bare despite the freezing temperatures, his muscles rippling as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. When he looks up, his gaze pins you in place like a predator spotting its prey.

"Well, well," he purrs, rising to his full height. He's taller than you expected, his presence overwhelming the entire clearing. "What do we have here? A little lamb wandered from its pen."

He takes a step toward you, and you realize with horror that the snow doesn't crunch beneath his bare feet. It simply melts away, leaving steaming footprints in his wake.

Before you can speak, he's standing directly in front of you, his hand reaching out to grip your chin roughly. His touch is burning hot against your frozen skin.

"You're looking for something, aren't you, little one?" His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting. "Tell me what you desire most... and I might just give it to you. For a price."