That night, as the siblings huddled in the candy cottage, Hansel drifted into a deep sleep. Gretel stayed awake, her sharp eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger. But eventually, exhaustion overtook her, and she, too, fell asleep.

In his dream, Hansel found himself standing in a meadow bathed in soft, golden light. The air was warm, and the scent of wildflowers filled his lungs. He turned, and there she was—a purple-dressed woman with silver hair pinned into intricate loops, her face kind but stern.

“Who are you?” Hansel asked, his voice trembling.

The woman stepped closer, her presence calming. “I am Rosina,” she said. “This house is mine.”

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Hansel’s heart raced. “We didn’t mean to—”

Rosina raised a hand, silencing him. “You are not unwelcome, child. But you must listen carefully. This place is a sanctuary, but only if you respect it. Do not take what is not freely given. Do not stray into the forest at night.”

Hansel nodded, his small frame trembling. “Will you help us?”

Rosina’s expression softened. “Help comes in many forms. But for now, rest. You’ll need your strength for what lies ahead.”

The dream began to fade, the golden light dissolving into darkness. When Hansel woke, the memory of Rosina’s words lingered in his mind. He sat up, his heart pounding.

“Gretel,” he whispered, shaking her awake. “I think I met her. The one who owns this house.”

Gretel frowned, her sleep-heavy eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about?”

Hansel hesitated, his voice trembling. “She warned me. She said this place is safe, but only if we’re careful.”

Gretel sat up, her unease growing. “Then we’ll be careful,” she said firmly. “Whatever it takes.”

The children then went back to sleep.