Morning came softly, the sunlight filtering through the colorful, sugar-coated windows of the cottage. Gretel woke first, her muscles stiff from sleeping on the hard floor. She rubbed her eyes and stood, taking in the strange room in the clarity of daylight.

The walls were made of gingerbread, the furniture shaped from spun sugar and chocolate. Shelves lined with jars of powders and dried herbs caught her attention. Some were labeled in a flowing, unfamiliar script, while others bore symbols she didn’t recognize.

“Hansel,” she whispered, nudging him awake. “Look at this.”

Hansel yawned and sat up, blinking at the jars and bottles. “What is all this?” he asked, stepping closer to inspect the labels.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Gretel picked up a jar filled with a shimmering, pink powder. “I don’t know,” she said. “But this isn’t just a house. Someone lived here.”

Hansel reached for a small box on one of the shelves. When he opened it, a faint scent of vanilla and lavender wafted out, along with a stack of folded paper. He unfolded one sheet, his brow furrowing as he tried to decipher the strange writing.

“What does it say?” Gretel asked, peering over his shoulder.

“I… I can’t read it,” Hansel admitted. “It’s not like anything I’ve seen before.”

They continued exploring the house, finding more oddities—half-burned candles arranged in strange patterns, a set of opal stones that glittered in the light, and a worn leather book filled with drawings of animals and plants.

“Whoever lived here wasn’t ordinary,” Gretel said, her tone hushed. “This is… magic.”

Hansel glanced at the candy walls, then back at the jars and books. “Do you think it’s safe to stay here?”

“For now,” Gretel said firmly. “But we’ll need to be careful.”