Arctha's stomach lurched as she plummeted through the void. Wind roared past her, yet there was no sky, no ground—just an endless abyss stretching in every direction. Her pulse thundered in her ears, her limbs flailing for something, anything, to anchor her. But there was nothing.
Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the freefall ended. She landed hard, but not on the cold tiles of the mall. The surface beneath her was strange—soft, yet firm, like moss-covered stone. A sharp jolt shot through her legs as she hit the ground, but she was too dazed to register the pain.
Groaning, Arctha pushed herself onto her hands and knees. Her vision swam, her head spinning from the disorienting drop. Slowly, hesitantly, she took in her surroundings.
This was definitely not the mall.
The sky above her was an impossible swirl of pastels—lavenders, blues, and pinks shifting like spilled paint in water. The grass beneath her glowed faintly with each movement she made, tiny sparks of light flickering between the blades. In the distance, towering silver trees stretched toward the sky, their leaves shimmering like liquid metal. Beyond them, castles of twisting spires and floating staircases loomed, defying logic with their gravity-defying architecture. The air smelled oddly sweet, like honey and something… electric.
Arctha swallowed hard. "Okay… this is fine. Totally fine," she muttered, ignoring how her voice trembled. "This isn't weird at all."
A soft laugh echoed from behind her.
She spun around, her heart leaping to her throat. A woman stood there, watching her with a knowing smile. Her presence was unsettlingly perfect—flowing robes of midnight blue embroidered with golden constellations, silver hair cascading down her back, and eyes the color of violets. She radiated power, the kind that made Arctha's skin prickle.
"Welcome to Lala Land," the woman said, her voice smooth, melodic.
Arctha's fingers curled into fists. "You already said that. Who are you? What is this place?"
The woman tilted her head slightly, amused. "I am Lady Veyna, a guide of sorts. And as for where you are…" She gestured to the surreal landscape around them. "This is where princesses and knights are forged. Where kingdoms rise and fall. And you, Arctha, have been chosen."
A shiver ran down Arctha's spine. "Chosen for what?"
Veyna's smile deepened. "To claim your place in the game."
Before Arctha could demand answers, movement flickered in the distance. Figures emerged from the silver forest—dozens of them, dressed in elaborate, regal attire. Some wore crowns, others carried weapons etched with glowing runes, and every single one of them was staring straight at her.
Then, something even stranger happened. A golden gauntlet materialized on her right hand, its intricate metalwork extending over her fingers like skeletal claws. Embedded within its design were deep purple gemstones that pulsed with energy. She turned her hands over, staring at them in confusion.
"Witch system initiated."
Arctha blinked. "I'm sorry—what?"
A voice—not her own—whispered in her mind: "Welcome back to Lala Land."
Okay. Now this was officially off-the-rails insane. Cuckoo. Cuckoo. She bit back a laugh, smiling nervously as she held her hands up in what she hoped was a non-threatening manner. The strangers before her all wore long, draping garments—like kids raiding their parents' closets for dress-up. Were they auditioning for some kind of medieval fantasy show?
"A princess," one of them murmured, and the group collectively gasped.
Another turned to Veyna. "Does she go to the academy?"
Veyna's expression darkened. "No. This one is an Ise."
Arctha's stomach clenched. "A what now?"
Before she could press for an explanation, a tall man with a rune-etched sword stepped forward. "You're coming with me. A princess belongs where she is needed."
Something about those words triggered a memory—or, at least, something that felt like one. A voice echoed in her head, grand and dramatic:
"Tinderella, listen to me. The prince has searched every corner of the kingdom for you. He has not eaten; he has not slept—his heart longs only for the girl who vanished at midnight. You may think yourself unworthy, but was it not your kindness that charmed the court? Your grace, that silenced the room? This slipper, delicate as it may seem, is proof that you belong—not as a servant, but as a queen. Step into the light, Tinderella. The prince awaits."
Arctha, still completely baffled, blurted out, "Yes!"
Everyone fell silent, staring at her.
She straightened her posture, lifting her hand like a princess would, trying to appear elegant. If these people wanted a royal, she could play the part—especially if it meant she wouldn't have to work another day in her life.
The rune-blade man looked utterly perplexed but took her hand anyway, leading her forward. Arctha closed her eyes for dramatic effect, preparing for some grand castle reveal.
When she finally peeked—expecting golden halls and lavish ballrooms—she instead found herself standing in front of a massive stone structure with an arched entrance that read:
"STARLIGHT SPELL ACADEMY."
Her eye twitched.
What the f—