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She lay on a sofa, her surroundings bathed in the soft glow of a warm fire. Its warmth cast flickering shadows on the walls. The surroundings bore an uncanny resemblance to her father’s study, a place she had frequented in her distant past.

A figure stood before the hearth, exuding an air of authority. Aurora’s heart quickened as her gaze settled on him. Recognition dawned. An illusion of her father, King Midas, stood before her.

Aurora sat up, her body protesting as the scorpion’s venom burned through her. “How did you get your gold?” she asked, biting back the pain.

The figure raised a jar of honey nectar, the golden bee ring she had once taken from him still adorning his finger. “Would you care for some honey, my dear?” His tone held an air of false geniality.

Setting her discomfort aside, she pressed, “What I want is an answer from you.”

He gave a humorless chuckle. “Straightforward, just like your mother.”

The revelation stirred a whirlwind of emotions within Aurora, but she wasn’t about to be sidetracked. “Tell me how to rid myself of this curse you’ve bestowed upon me.”

Midas turned to face her fully, his eyes locking onto hers, and for a moment, she felt stripped bare, as if her thoughts were an open book before him. “You didn’t come here solely for that answer, Aurora. Another question burns within you.”

Her heartbeat quickened, her emotions exposed to a degree that left her feeling vulnerable. Still, she wouldn’t play into his manipulative game. “All I want is to know how to remove my curse.”

A knowing smirk curled at the edges of her father’s lips. “So, you don’t wish to know where your precious prince has vanished to? Your search for him has driven you across this world, hasn’t it? Your desire to enter this tower was fueled by him. And I know precisely where he can be found.”

From his pocket, Midas produced a parchment scroll, its surface blank and unmarked. With a swift, practiced movement, he pricked his finger, allowing a drop of blood to fall on the paper. Instantaneously, the parchment transformed into a golden plate. Even Aurora couldn’t see the sudden inscription on its surface, by the look in her father’s eyes, she supposed it contained the answer she sought.

Aurora rose to her feet and took the plate, her gaze tracing the names engraved into it. On one side, Hendrick’s name gleamed, a memory from her past. Flipping the plate, she found Tristan’s name. Confusion knitted her brows.

“What is this?” she asked.

Midas spoke with a calm finality. “Hold the plate over a flame, and the answer you desire will be revealed. But you must choose: either you discover the path to Hendrick, your former love, or you assist your newfound beloved in defeating me.”

Aurora’s heart drummed against her ribcage. Her fingers trembled as she tucked the golden plate into her satchel.

“What about my gold?” Her voice sliced through the tension-laden air. “How can I rid myself of it?”

Her father’s illusion waved a dismissive hand. “The answer rests within you, my dear. You need only to look within to find it.”

“Enough with the riddles!” she demanded, her words sharp. “Tell me!”

Her father regarded her with an enigmatic smile, his eyes holding a depth of knowledge that eluded her. And then a glint of metal caught her eye. In his hand materialized a golden dagger, its blade glimmering with an otherworldly light. Before she could react, the blade pierced her abdomen, pain searing through her like another shot of venom.

Gasping for breath, Aurora felt the world around her dissolve into darkness. Her father’s voice, a haunting whisper, brushed against her ear. “The answer is inside you.”

A sharp intake of air jolted Aurora back to consciousness. Her surroundings were a haze, like a half-remembered dream. She was back in her bedroom within the golden tower, her body drenched in a cold sweat.

Beside her, Tristan lay still, his face contorted in pain. She crawled toward him, wincing with every movement, her own pain an echo of his. She rolled him onto his back, her heart a drumbeat of concern.

His eyes fluttered open, the effort visible on his haggard face. His voice, hoarse and laced with pain, pierced the silence, “Have you ever been stung by a scorpion before?”

Aurora shook her head, her eyes locked onto the blood that trickled from his nose. “You’re bleeding,” she murmured.

His touch smeared blood across his skin, the crimson stain a stark contrast against his pale complexion.

“The bell tower must have rung, and we didn't hear it,” she muttered. Panic welled within her chest, the sight of his life slipping away sent her mind reeling. “You’re out of time. You must go. Now!”

Tristan pushed himself onto his elbows. “I can’t leave you like this.”

Aurora met his gaze. “If you die here, you’ll never awaken. But if you go, heal, and return, we can face whatever lies ahead together.”

Tristan’s nod felt like a promise, a silent understanding that passed between them like a whispered prayer. His hands cupped her face, a fleeting touch that conveyed a world of emotion that reached her very core. “I won’t be long. I promise.”

Aurora nodded, her breath shaky as her consciousness wavered on the edge of an abyss. “Hurry,” she breathed, her voice a fragile thread in the stillness.