Golden sunlight streamed through the sugar-glass windows, pooling on the floor in soft, uneven patches. Hansel sat quietly near the table, turning his wooden carving over in his hands. The dream still lingered in his mind—Rosina's warning, her voice gentle yet firm: "Don’t take anything that isn’t freely given. Stay out of the forest at night."

Across the room, Gretel wandered along the shelves, her fingers brushing against jars filled with glittering powders, dried herbs, and strange, twisting liquids. She stopped in front of a row of books, their spines embossed with symbols she didn’t recognize.

“This place is insane,” she muttered, pulling a thick book from the shelf. “Why would someone just leave all this lying around? It’s like they want us to take it.”

Hansel glanced up sharply. “Don’t.”

Gretel paused, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t take anything.” His voice was steady but laced with tension. “She told me in the dream—nothing that isn’t freely given.”

Gretel scoffed, flipping open the book. “It’s just a dream, Hansel. You can’t believe everything your head tells you.”

“It wasn’t just a dream,” Hansel said firmly. “She was real. She knew things, Gretel. About this house. About us.”

“Fine,” Gretel said with a shrug, sliding the book back onto the shelf. “But what about all this stuff?” She gestured to the rows of jars and trinkets. “Nobody’s here. If we don’t use it, we’ll starve. Or worse.”

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Hansel stood, his hands clenched around the carving. “What if it’s a test? She said this place would keep us safe, but only if we follow the rules.”

“What rules?” Gretel shot back. “Don’t eat the magic food? Don’t touch the shiny jars? How are we supposed to survive if we don’t use what’s here?”

Before Hansel could answer, Gretel’s gaze landed on a dark corner of the room. A single shelf, unlike the others, loomed in the shadows. Dust coated its surface, and its contents shimmered faintly in the dim light—jars filled with swirling mist, tightly bound books, and trinkets that seemed to hum softly. Above it, a wooden sign bore an inscription in strange, curling letters.

“What do you think is over there?” Gretel asked, taking a step toward the shelf.

“Gretel, don’t,” Hansel said quickly, his voice rising. “That shelf doesn’t feel… right.”

“Maybe it has something useful,” she argued, stepping closer. “Something we need.”

“Maybe it has something dangerous,” Hansel shot back, his face pale. “She didn’t say which things are safe. What if you touch something and it ruins everything?”

Gretel hesitated, her hand hovering over a jar filled with silvery liquid that swirled and sparkled. The air around it seemed heavier, as though it were holding its breath. “It’s just a jar,” she said softly, almost to herself.

“Don’t,” Hansel said again, his voice trembling now. “If you’re wrong…”

A deep stillness fell over the room, broken only by the faint creak of the house settling. Gretel pulled her hand back, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Fine,” she muttered. “But if we don’t figure out what we’re supposed to do soon, we’ll end up just as dead as if we’d touched it.”

Hansel exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as Gretel stepped back from the shelf. “We’ll figure it out,” he said quietly, though his gaze lingered on the forbidden jars. “But we have to follow the rules. No matter what.”

The house seemed to relax with them, its walls no longer groaning in protest. Outside, the sunlight dimmed slightly as a shadow passed over the window—large and hulking, moving slowly. Hansel’s eyes darted to the window, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“The bear,” he murmured, more to himself than to Gretel.

“What?” Gretel asked, her voice sharp. “What about the bear?”

Hansel shook his head, still watching the window. “Nothing. Just… I think it’s watching over us.”

Gretel huffed, crossing her arms. “Great. A bear babysitter. That’s just what we need.”

Hansel ignored her, turning his attention back to the small carving in his hand. In the quiet of the house, he thought he heard a faint growl, low and rumbling, but steady—almost protective.