The afternoon light waned, casting long shadows across the sugar-glass windows. Hansel and Gretel’s stomachs growled in unison, a sharp reminder of the gnawing hunger that had plagued them since their journey began.

“This place might look magical,” Gretel muttered, her voice edged with irritation, “but it’s useless if it doesn’t feed us.”

Hansel didn’t respond. He was busy pacing the room, his mind replaying Rosina’s words from his dream: “Only take what is freely given.”

A soft creak echoed through the cottage, drawing their attention to one of the closed doors. It had been shut tightly since they arrived, but now it stood ajar, revealing a dimly lit passage.

“What’s in there?” Gretel asked, her sharp eyes narrowing.

“Maybe the kitchen?” Hansel offered, his voice uncertain.

Hansel hesitated, then stepped forward, his hand gripping the small wooden carving in his pocket. “We should see.”

The siblings moved cautiously down the narrow hall, the floor beneath them sticky with what looked like hardened caramel. At the end of the passage was another door, this one slightly smaller and arched. Its brass handle was warm to the touch when Hansel pushed it open.

The room beyond was nothing like they expected. It was a kitchen, yes, but unlike any they’d seen. Pots and pans of burnished copper hung neatly from hooks along the walls, and a massive brick oven stood at the center of the room, its iron doors etched with curling designs. A fire crackled within, filling the space with a warm, inviting glow. On a nearby table lay loaves of bread, slabs of chocolate toffee, and trays of glittering candied fruits, as though someone had prepared a feast just for them.

Hansel and Gretel froze in the doorway, their eyes wide.

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“Who… put all this here?” Gretel whispered.

“Does it matter?” Hansel asked, though he didn’t move. The sight of the food sent a pang of longing through him, but Rosina’s warning echoed in his mind. “Only take what is freely given.”

Gretel stepped into the room, her gaze darting around. “Do you see anyone? Maybe the bear made it.”

“The bear doesn’t bake,” Hansel said flatly, but Gretel ignored him. She reached for a loaf of bread, her hand hovering over the crusty surface.

Before she could touch it, the oven gave a low whump, sending a puff of smoke into the room. The fire inside flared briefly, and a single candied almond rolled off the table and onto the floor, stopping near Hansel’s feet.

He bent down, picking it up cautiously. It was warm to the touch, and when he held it up, he noticed faint lettering on its shiny surface. “For you.”

“See?” Gretel said, her hunger overriding her caution. “It’s offering it to us.”

Hansel didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he placed the almond carefully back on the table. Almost immediately, the candied fruits shifted, and a small plate slid toward him, carrying two more almonds.

Gretel huffed. “So the kitchen wants to feed you and not me? Great.”

“No,” Hansel said slowly. “It’s offering. That’s what she meant—freely given. You have to wait for it to choose.”

“Choose?” Gretel’s voice rose in disbelief. “I’m not waiting for a kitchen to decide if I’m worth feeding.” She grabbed a piece of chocolate toffee and lifted it to her mouth.

The moment she bit down, the oven roared, the fire inside blazing brighter. The kitchen’s warmth vanished, replaced by a chill that seeped into their bones. The pots and pans rattled violently, and the table quaked, sending plates and loaves sliding to the floor.

“Gretel!” Hansel shouted, grabbing her arm. “Put it back!”

But it was too late. The toffee melted in Gretel’s mouth, and she swallowed instinctively. The kitchen fell silent, the oven’s fire dimming to a faint glow.

“See?” Gretel said shakily, brushing crumbs from her lips. “Nothing happened.”

Hansel didn’t answer. He was staring at the oven, where the fire had taken on a strange, flickering shape—something humanoid, its outline faint but unmistakable. The figure turned toward them, its glowing eyes fixing on Gretel.

“I don’t think it likes you now,” Hansel whispered, his voice trembling.

The figure stepped forward, its fiery form barely contained within the oven’s iron door. Gretel stumbled back, her earlier defiance crumbling. “What… what is that?”

Hansel grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the door. “We need to leave. Now.”

As they fled the kitchen, the house groaned around them, the warmth and light from before replaced by a cold, oppressive silence. Hansel glanced back once, just in time to see the fiery figure vanish into the embers, leaving the oven dark and lifeless.