Hell bound with you

The invitation

The early morning air was crisp, and the sun struggled to break through the remnants of last night’s heavy snowfall.

Amelia was outside, her hands working as she tried to dry the wet firewood. Her fingers were stiff from the cold, but she continued, knowing the warmth of a fire would be worth the effort.

The silence of the morning was broken by hurried footsteps crunching through the snow.

“Amelia!” a voice called.

She looked up to see her younger brother, Adam, running toward her, his cheeks flushed and his breath visible in the icy air.

“What’s wrong? Why are you running?” Amelia asked, setting down the piece of wood in her hand.

Adam stopped in front of her, doubled over and gasping for air.

“Amelia,” he said between breaths, “we’ve been invited to the king’s ball! Papa was telling Mama about it—I heard them talking!”

Amelia’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. She wasn’t surprised; Lucy, her friend, had already mentioned the possibility of an invitation.

She raised an eyebrow. “Really, Adam? Are you that excited about it?”

Adam’s eyes widened as he nodded vigorously.

“Of course I am! I’ll get to see the castle—the king himself! And the horses, Amelia. Imagine the horses! And there will be so much delicious food…”

His voice trailed off as he noticed her indifferent expression.

“Why aren’t you excited? Don’t you want to go?”

“Hmmm… I’ll think about it,” Amelia replied, brushing off his enthusiasm.

Adam frowned, crossing his arms.

“Mama was telling Papa that it’s important for your marriage. That’s why we should go.”

The lighthearted mood vanished in an instant. The smile slipped from Amelia’s face as she stared at her brother.

“Really? Are you sure Mama said that?”

Adam scowled, kicking at the snow with his boot.

“Yes, I’m sure! Mama wants to marry you off, Amelia.”

She sighed, looking away.

“I don’t want to get married,” she muttered under her breath. “Why does it feel like they can’t wait to be rid of me?”

She didn’t say anything more, not wanting to upset Adam. With a gentle sigh, she brushed the dirt from her hands onto her gown and leapt down from the pile of firewood.

Crossing the clearing, she wrapped her arms around Adam’s neck from behind, catching him by surprise.

“Do you want a tasty treat?” she whispered playfully into his ear.

Adam turned with wide, eager eyes, bouncing on his feet as his face lit up with a grin.

“Yes! Yes! What is it?”

Amelia giggled, her voice soft but full of mischief.

“Frostberries,” she said. “I saw some ripening near the stream yesterday. They’re deep red now, sweet and juicy. Lucy and I ate so many our lips turned red.”

Adam’s excitement burst through him like a spark catching dry leaves.

“Let’s go! Let’s go now!”

He shouted before breaking into a sprint across the open field.

“Adam, wait for me!” Amelia called, laughing as she gathered her skirt and chased after him.

The wind tugged at her hair, and for a moment, the heaviness of her worries lifted. She was no longer the girl trapped between expectations and duty.

They raced past tall ferns and beneath arching branches until the sound of the stream reached their ears—a soft, murmuring promise of sweet berries and stolen moments.

Amelia slowed as they reached the bank, her breath coming in quick bursts and her cheeks flushed from the run.

“There,” she said, pointing to the low bushes heavy with frostberries. “See? I told you.”

Adam darted toward them, already picking the plumpest berries and popping them into his mouth.

“Mmm! They really are sweet,” he said, his voice muffled with berries. “You were right!”

Amelia knelt beside him, plucking one between her fingers and holding it to the sunlight before tasting it herself.

The berry burst with flavor, cold and tangy, as though it had captured winter within its skin.

“I wish everything could stay like this,” she whispered, more to the trees and the sky than to Adam. “Just simple… and quiet.”

“I know,” Adam grinned. Then he stood and pointed dramatically toward a deeper part of the forest.

“To the berry kingdom! Let’s find more!”

Just like that, the moment shifted again—light, playful, and filled with the kind of magic only children and forests can conjure.

Amelia followed him, her laughter echoing through the trees, as though the forest itself had joined in their little rebellion against the world.

They were so absorbed in their little game that neither noticed the change in the forest.

The trees stirred with a faint rustle. Amelia stopped mid-laugh, her smile disappearing as she listened.

Then came another sound—the crisp crunch of footsteps over frost-covered leaves, slow and deliberate, drawing closer with every step.

Adam straightened.

“Did you hear that?”

Amelia nodded.

They both turned toward the sound.

Between the ancient trees, a woman emerged.

She moved through the trees with slow, effortless grace, as though the wilderness held no danger for her—or for those watching her.

Amelia stared.

The woman was beautiful.

Not in the familiar way of Riverfield women, whose beauty was softened by woolen cloaks, heavy dresses, and the practical layers demanded by the bitter cold. This woman looked as though she belonged to another age entirely.

Her clothing was strange—dark, flowing fabric that clung to her figure and left far too much of her skin exposed for the freezing forest.

She looked less like a traveler and more like a goddess that had stepped out of an ancient folktale.

But it was her eyes that made Amelia’s smile disappear.

They were red.

Red as embers beneath dying ash—the same eyes Amelia had seen only a few days ago.

The woman continued toward them until she stood directly before Amelia.

Slowly, she raised a hand.

Amelia stepped back, but the woman followed her movement. Her fingertips brushed Amelia’s cheek with an almost affectionate gentleness.

“Exceptionally beautiful,” she murmured.

Her red eyes lingered on Amelia’s face.

“No wonder two brothers are fighting over you.”

Amelia’s breath caught.

She pulled away from the woman’s touch.“what do you mean? Who are you?”

The woman’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Don’t ask. You are not ready to hear the answer.”

Adam immediately stepped between them.

“Stay away from my sister.”

The woman’s attention shifted to him, amused. “Your sister?”

The woman stepped closer.

Adam didn’t move.

She leaned toward him until her face was only inches from his.

“Then perhaps you should be more careful about bringing her here. Something in these woods may already have its eyes on her.”

Adam frowned.

“What do you want?”

The woman tilted her head.

“Can you give me what I want?”

Adam didn’t blink.

“If you want frost berries, there are plenty of them around. Go, pick them yourself.”

He gestured toward the bushes.

"We have nothing to give you.”

The woman’s gaze shifted past him, settling on Amelia.

Amelia felt a strange uneasiness settle in her stomach. “Adam…”

The woman smiled at her.

Amelia grabbed Adam’s arm.

“Let’s go.”

Adam hesitated.

“Amelia—”

“Now.”

There was something in her voice that made him stop arguing.

She pulled him away from the woman and began walking through the trees.

They had taken only a few steps when Amelia glanced back.

The woman was gone.

Amelia stopped.

“Adam.”

He turned.

“What?”

“She…”

His eyes followed hers.

There was no one there.

Only the frost-covered trees.

The untouched snow.

She just vanished.

⸻

That evening, the family gathered around the dinner table. The faint warmth of the fire did little to ease the tension building in Amelia’s chest.

She and Adam had agreed to keep what happened in the forest to themselves. If their parents learned the truth, they would forbid them from returning—and neither of them could bear the thought of being kept away from the woods.

She sat silently, pushing her food around her plate as the conversation began.

Her mother broke the silence with a cheerful smile.

“We’re going to the castle this Sunday,” she announced, her eyes alight with excitement. “The king has invited us. Amelia, we’ll need to go to the market tomorrow to buy some new clothes. You’ll need to look your best.”

Amelia hesitated, her fork frozen midway to her mouth.

“I don’t want to go,” she said, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire. “You and Papa should go. Take Adam with you.”

The cheerfulness on her mother’s face quickly gave way to anger.

“And why is that?” she demanded.

Amelia swallowed hard, keeping her gaze fixed on her plate.

“I just don’t want to go,” she repeated, a hint of defiance in her voice.

Her mother’s eyes narrowed, impatience creeping into her voice.

“No, Amelia. Your father and I have decided. We are going, and so are you. This is an important gathering of every noble family. If someone takes an interest in you and asks for your hand in marriage, it will be good for you—and for us.”

The words struck Amelia like a blow, and tears welled in her eyes.

She wanted to protest, to tell her mother how unfair it was, but she knew it would be pointless. Her voice would only be silenced again.

Instead, she bit her lip and nodded, staring down at her plate.

A heavy silence settled over the table, broken only by the clink of cutlery and the occasional crackle of the fire.

Her heart felt heavy, her appetite gone. She forced herself to eat, each bite tasting bitter—not because of the food, but because of the weight of her mother’s words.