Chapter Text
The morning of Princess Nova Brightwood’s eighteenth birthday began the way all royal birthdays in Aeloria began: with sunlight pouring through lattice windows, bells chiming from the towers, and servants bustling through the palace halls with fresh linens and warm bread.
But none of it felt right to her.
Nova stood before her mirror, staring at the girl reflected back—braided hair woven with pearls, pale blue gown laced tight across the ribs, lips tinted rose. Every piece of her looked the way a princess should look.
But she didn’t feel like one.
She felt like someone standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for a shove.
“Your Highness?” A soft knock at her door. “The king requests your presence in the Hall.”
Nova exhaled. “Of course he does.”
She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and walked. Her footsteps echoed through arched corridors as she passed familiar tapestries and marble pillars, yet each sound felt heavier than it should have—like something final was waiting for her.
The Great Hall was already filled when she arrived. Courtiers lined the floor, nobles bowed their heads, and the air hummed with the low thrum of expectation. Her father, King Aldric, stood on the dais at the far end, stern and regal in a dark velvet coat. His eyes softened only slightly when he saw her.
“Nova,” he said, voice carrying through the chamber. “Come.”
She climbed the steps and took her place beside him. Her pulse pounded. She knew this announcement—whatever it was—would define her life. A future she had not chosen.
Her father raised a hand, calling the room to silence.
“On this day, as my daughter comes of age,” he began, “I am proud to announce her official betrothal—”
Nova’s breath lodged in her throat.
“To Lord Raynor of House Varyn.”
A ripple of polite applause moved through the hall.
Ray stepped forward, perfectly composed. His dark hair was tied back with a silver ribbon, his posture elegant in a way that made Nova want to shove him down the steps. They had grown up together, sparring partners in both blade and wit, always circling each other like two cats unsure if they were enemies or simply too similar to be friends.
He bowed with a flourish.
“Princess,” he said smoothly, “it will be an honor.”
Nova’s stomach twisted.
She managed a nod, stiff and brittle.
She felt every eye on her. Every whisper. Every future suddenly carved in stone.
Ray would be her husband.
She would sit beside him as queen.
Her choices, her freedom, her wants—gone.
Her throat tightened.
Her father placed a proud hand on her shoulder. “This union will strengthen the realm,” he said warmly. “It is the duty of a princess—”
Duty.
The word echoed like shackles closing around her wrists.
Nova stepped back before she could stop herself.
“Father,” she said quietly, “may I… have a moment?”
Before he could answer, she turned and walked away—steadily at first, then faster, ignoring the startled murmurs weaving through the hall. She didn’t stop until she reached the palace gardens, pushing past rose bushes and marble fountains until she found the quiet corner she’d always gone to as a child.
The Well of Stars.
An ancient well carved from pale stone, its surface etched with constellations she didn’t know the names of. Her mother used to sit here with her, placing flowers on the rim and whispering stories about how the well “listened to hearts too full for words.”
Nova’s heart felt far too full now.
She sank to her knees beside the well and pressed her palms to the cool stone.
“I don’t want this,” she whispered hoarsely. “I don’t want him. I don’t want a life chosen for me.”
Her voice cracked.
“I want to choose. For once. I want… I want to be free.”
Tears struck the stone.
The air shifted—the faintest change, almost like a held breath. The wind stirred the tall grass. The constellations carved into the well flickered, once, as though catching starlight.
Nova wiped her eyes, knowing she was imagining it.
“I wish,” she whispered, leaning over the dark water, “there was somewhere else for me.”
She closed her eyes.
“I wish I belonged somewhere.”
Silence answered her.
Just silence.
Then—
The water glowed.
Softly at first. A gentle shimmer beneath the surface. Then brighter, brighter, bright enough that the constellations on the stone rim pulsed with pale blue light.
Nova jerked back in surprise.
“What—?”
A breeze swept across the garden, warm and strong. The grass bowed in waves. The well’s light burst upward in a column that wrapped around her, pulling her weightless and breathless off the ground.
Nova gasped once—
—and the world vanished.
When she hit the ground again, it wasn’t grass beneath her palms.
It was mulch.
And instead of starry wells and palace gardens—
she found herself staring at a plastic flamingo.
Nova blinked.
“What realm… is this?”
A porch light flicked on.
A sliding glass door opened.
And a boy—tall, messy-haired, wearing pajama pants and holding a half-eaten bag of pretzels—stared at her like she was a ghost on his lawn.
“…uh,” he said.
Nova pushed herself up, dignity scrambling behind her. “Sir,” she declared, “I demand to know which kingdom this is and who gave you permission to witness my arrival.”
The boy blinked twice.
“…I think you fell into my backyard.”
Nova frowned. “Backyard?”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’m—uh—Victor. And you are…?”
She lifted her chin, still breathless, still confused, still very much a princess.
“Princess Nova Brightwood of Aeloria,” she said firmly. “And I believe your… land dragon is making a strange noise.”
“…land dragon?”
A car alarm began blaring down the street.
Victor whispered, horrified: “Oh my god.”
Nova whispered, equally horrified: “By the stars.”
They stared at each other.
Two worlds colliding.
Two futures beginning.
Nova exhaled shakily.
Victor tightened his grip on the pretzels.
And the night held its breath for what came next.