Kena Rae was 17 years old and lived in a small town in the Netherlands. Her town was quiet, with little houses and green fields all around.
The streets were narrow, made of old stones, and the air smelled like fresh grass and bread from the bakery down the road.
But Kena was not quiet like her town. She was loud and mean to almost everyone she met.
She yelled at her mom Lucy for cooking boring food, like plain potatoes or soup with no taste.
She snapped at her dad Ken for asking about her day, even when he just wanted to know if she was okay.
Even the kids at school stayed away from her because she always had something rude to say.
They whispered about her behind her back, calling her the angry girl with the sharp tongue.
One sunny morning, Kena woke up early. The light poured through her window, making her squint as she pulled on her clothes.
She wore her favorite black jacket, the one with a little rip near the pocket, and boots that clacked loud on the stone path outside her house.
She liked the sound—it made her feel strong. She grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and headed out the door without saying goodbye to anyone.
Her stomach growled a little, but she ignored it at first. She had one thing on her mind: getting to the market.
The market was down the hill from her house, just a short walk away. It was busy that day, with people crowding around the stalls.
There were tables piled high with warm bread, bright flowers in every color, and shiny fish laid out on ice.
The noise of voices filled the air—people laughing, shouting, bargaining for a better price.
Kena didn't care about any of that. She didn't want bread or flowers or fish. She just wanted a candy bar from the old wooden stall near the end of the street.
It was her favorite kind, the one with chocolate and nuts, and she could almost taste it already.
Her stomach growled louder as she pushed through the crowd, shoving past anyone who got in her way.
At the stall, an old woman stood behind the counter. She was small and bent, with wrinkled skin that sagged on her face and hands.
Her gray hair was tied up in a messy bun, strands falling loose around her ears. Her eyes were strange—too bright for someone so old, like they glowed a little in the sunlight.
She smiled at Kena, showing crooked teeth that stuck out at odd angles. "Hello, girl," the woman said in a scratchy voice. "Want something sweet today?"
Kena rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. She didn't have time for this. "Just give me the candy bar. Hurry up," she barked.
She tapped her foot on the ground, making her boot clack louder. She didn't like waiting, and she didn't like the old woman's slow hands.
They moved like they had all the time in the world, fumbling with the candy bars on the shelf.
The woman's smile faded a little, but she didn't say anything back. She picked up a candy bar—the one Kena wanted—and held it out with a shaky hand.
"That's one euro," she said, her voice calm but firm.
Kena snatched the candy bar fast, her fingers brushing the woman's cold skin. She dug into her pocket, pulled out a coin, and tossed it onto the counter.
It landed with a loud clink, spinning for a second before it stopped. "There. Now leave me alone," she said, already turning to walk away. She didn't look back—she didn't care if the woman was mad or not.
"Wait," the old woman called out. Her voice was different now, sharp and strong, like a knife cutting through the air.
Kena stopped in her tracks, her boots skidding a little on the stones. She turned her head, annoyed, her dark hair whipping across her face.
"What?" Kena snapped, glaring at the woman. "I paid you. What's your problem now?"
The old woman stepped out from behind the stall. She was shorter than Kena, her head barely reaching Kena's chin, but something about her felt big and scary.
Maybe it was the way she stood, straight and sure, or maybe it was those bright eyes that locked onto Kena's face and wouldn't let go.
"You have a bad heart," the woman said, her words slow and heavy. "You're rude to everyone. You think the world owes you something, like you're better than all of us."
Kena laughed, loud and mean, the sound bouncing off the stalls around her. "Oh, shut up, you old hag. Go bother someone else with your stupid talk."
She turned again, ripping open the candy wrapper with her teeth. The chocolate smelled good, and she was ready to take a big bite.
But the woman wasn't done. She raised a bony hand, her fingers thin and curled like claws, and pointed straight at Kena.
"You need to learn," she said, her voice low and dark. "I curse you, Kena Rae. You'll go far away, and you'll change—or you'll die."
Kena froze, her teeth halfway into the candy bar. It slipped from her hand and hit the ground with a soft thud, rolling into the dirt.
"What did you say?" she asked, spinning around fast. Her heart beat hard in her chest. But the old woman was gone.
The stall was empty, like no one had ever been there. The market was quiet now, too quiet. People walked by with their bags and baskets, but they didn't look at Kena.
It was like she wasn't even there, like she was a ghost standing in the middle of the street.
Her head started to spin, slow at first, then faster. The air felt thick and heavy, like she was breathing soup instead of air.
She stumbled forward, her boots slipping on the stones, and reached out for a wall to hold herself up.
Her hand hit the rough bricks, and she leaned there, breathing hard. "What's happening?" she mumbled.
Her voice sounded far away, like it belonged to someone else, not her. Then the ground shook under her feet.
A loud crack split the air, sharp and sudden, like thunder right above her head. The world turned black all at once—no sun, no market, no nothing.
Kena fell forward, her hands hitting nothing but darkness. She screamed, her mouth wide open, but no sound came out.
Her body felt light, like she was floating in water, weightless and lost. Then everything stopped, sudden and still.
When she opened her eyes, she wasn't in the market anymore. She wasn't even in her town.
She was lying on soft grass, cool and damp under her back. The sky above her was full of strange, purple clouds that moved slow and lazy.
Tall trees with red leaves swayed around her, their branches creaking in the wind. The air smelled like flowers and dirt, but it wasn't a smell she knew—it was sharp and wild, nothing like the fields back home.
Kena sat up fast, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. "Where am I?" she said out loud. Her voice echoed, bouncing off the trees and coming back to her.
She looked down at her hands—they were dirty, streaked with mud, like she'd been crawling through the grass.
Her black jacket was torn at the sleeve, a jagged rip she hadn't noticed before. Her boots were scuffed, the leather scratched and dull.
Footsteps crunched behind her, loud on the dry leaves. Kena jumped up, her legs shaky, and turned around fast. The old woman from the market stood there, holding a stick to lean on.
She looked the same—wrinkled skin, gray hair in a messy bun, those bright eyes that cut right through you—but now she wore a long green cloak that shimmered in the light, like it was made of water.
"You," Kena said, pointing a shaking finger. "What did you do to me? Where am I?"
The old woman smiled, but it wasn't a nice smile—it was thin and sharp, like a blade. "Welcome to Velmoria," she said, her voice steady. "You're here because of your curse. You've got one month to fix it."
Kena's mouth dropped open, her breath catching in her chest. "Fix what? Take me home, you crazy old bat! I don't belong here!"
The woman shook her head slow, like she was tired of Kena already. "Not yet. You need a true love's kiss from a man in this land. Only then can you go back. If you don't get it in one month, you'll die before you turn 18."
Kena laughed, but it sounded weak and shaky, not like her usual loud self. "A kiss? You're joking. This is insane."
The woman didn't laugh. She pulled something from her cloak—a small, square photo—and handed it to Kena.
It showed a man with dark hair and sharp eyes, his face handsome but cold, like he didn't smile much.
"This is him," the woman said. "Find him. Make him love you. Or die."
Before Kena could yell again, the woman waved her stick. A gust of wind hit Kena's face, cold and strong, and when she blinked, the woman was gone.
Kena stood alone in the strange forest, holding the photo in her dirty hands. They shook as she stared at the man's face.
"This can't be real," she whispered to herself.
But the purple sky and red trees told her it was. She was stuck in Velmoria, far from her quiet little town, and her time was already running out.
She took a deep breath, her chest tight, and looked around at the endless trees. She didn't know where to start, but she knew one thing: she wasn't going to die here. Not yet.