Insanity is the erratic and murky realm my mind is becoming familiar with. I complete the same mundane soul-sucking routines each day and expect a different result. I never leave; I wait, and still, he does not come.

I finish washing my tea-stained cup in my small, mouldy kitchen, slowly turning to view my stale surroundings—the withered furniture in a forever shrinking space. Everything has drained of colour over the years, and I can’t help but think that the years have drained me, too.

A loud sigh escapes me as I impatiently walk back and forth in my confined prison; I recognise it as a tower made of obsidian stone and despair, looming while casting long shadows below.

It’s been thirty years- awaiting my promised prince to rescue me. I can’t keep lying to myself, or I will wither away like the furniture around me. My stomach flips at the thought of that being true.

My legs feel heavy as I move over to the giant arched window that is my only window into the outside world. I peer out the window with the smell of fresh air and birds chirping. I instantly feel my face crumble, my eyes well as I take in the light fading as the sun sets on the horizon; the shades of lavender and hues of pink streaks light up the sky, igniting sorrow in my heart as another day ends.

I gasp, and my hands clench into fists. As those final embers of light descend, an eerie darkness surrounds me, and I shudder. I wrap my arms around myself, pitch blackness and stillness coating me. I hear the quiet whisper to me, “You’re alone. No one is coming.”

“Enough”, I bark out loud as I exhale deeply. My body trembles as fiery spark takes hold. I clench my jaw in frustration; I am Princess Amaya Crovin, and this will not be my fate!

As an initiate, I was given this task. I trusted the process, my role, and my purpose. Two lines crease between my brows; the process has failed. After being shaped into an alluring, prim, and proper princess as a child, my goal was to capture a prince in the pretence of him rescuing me. Prince Charming never showed, and I’m exhausted from waiting. Whispers of my situation should have travelled far and wide across the land. Promised rewards and favour that would have been received from my rescue should have lured a prince by now. Something is not right.

Tonight, I will take action. My future will no longer be in anyone else's hands but mine. I will twist it as I see fit.

I disappear from the window and withdraw into my home's dim, bleak space. Now, I have resolve and determination as I devise a plan to escape. At least with my childhood training and teachings, I can step this out quite quickly. Math and physics have always been some of my favourite subjects, and they have intrigued me. I curse myself for not doing it sooner.

Each month, on the full moon, I receive a large crate of supplies. It appears out of thin air in my tower room. It is sent from the sisterhood to keep me alive until I complete my task. The supplies include food, new clothing twice a year as the seasons change, general supplies, candles, books, etc. I’ve noticed, though, that it conveniently never communicates the status of my situation in this desolate stone prison.

Quickly confirming what I must use from the last delivered crate, I light a candle. A nervous smile pulls at my mouth as I stare into the single flame. Filling and illuminating the darkness around me, casting shadows to the far corners of the room, I start putting my plan into motion.

The high priestess, the sisterhood; they will be upset that I’m leaving, but I’m upset too. I’ve been abandoned and forgotten in this hopeless task.

I’m a descendant of two royal lines. My father was a ruler of a beautiful and bountiful kingdom—or so I was told, as I never had the chance to experience it. My mother's lineage is through an ancient coven of witches. My task was to secure a prince and, therefore, a kingdom. Once my task was completed, I’d complete the ritual and ascend to power. A birthright as the high priestess is also my grandmother.

Hands shaking, I start piling supplies. “How could they do this to me!” I scream. Anger fuels my motivation to be free of this lost dream, this blood-bound curse, and this malevolent tower. I will claw back wasted time. The only positive is that my aging is slowed as a descendant of an ancient coven. I’ve come to realise now the only person whose actions I can control are my own, and I redirect my energy and forbidden power to the only person I can count on: me.

Hours later, dawn arrived. I shiver as the crisp, cool breeze blows on my face. After braiding the rest off to the side, I pull strands of raven hair behind my ears. I’m cloaked in layers, and my bag of supplies is strapped to my back. I breathe deeply and climb the arched window’s cold stone ledge. My muscles tighten, and my heart rapidly beats as I clench my fingers around the rope. I look up at the stone wall above the window. I note where I see the rope threaded through the torch sconce, “Please let this hold”.

I turn my gaze downwards at the estimated 80-foot drop. Despite the chill in the air, my hands go clammy. I close my eyes and take another breath to settle my nerves. I tested the scales of different weighted items I could secure, but I didn’t want to push my luck with the rope with too many attempts. The rope has probably been here since the dawn of time, and it’s the only one I have. The last crate I received is filled with items looped around and tied to the lower end. Hopefully, I’ve estimated correctly, and it's a few kilos shy of my weight. Nothing beats a homemade pulley system.

Okay, a moment of truth. I tighten my fingers around the rope, giving it one last good tug. Here goes nothing. I scrunch my eyes closed and grab on with my other hand. I then step off the obsidian stone ledge and wrap my ankles around the rope below me. Instantly, my stomach lurches and feels like it's lifting into my chest. A whooshing noise follows me as I descend to the ground, slightly faster than anticipated. The line suddenly catches and yanks back in a jolt; I feel the adrenaline pulsing through my veins. My heart is hammering so hard, like I can hear it pounding in my chest, ready to leap out on its own.

At a snail's pace, I hesitatingly turn my gaze down while swaying, disoriented 6 feet above ground still. “Damn, that was intense!”.

Alright, this is still achievable; let's not panic. I made it this far and am still alive; what’s six more feet? Holding the weathered tether, I try to wriggle my pack free as I dangle there. I bring it to my front with one arm and drop it to the ground below. The pack impacts the ground with a thud, not as delicately as I would have liked, but nothing too damaging from what I saw. The anticipation of this last leap almost seems as bad as being up the top again. “Argh, why can’t anything be simple!”.

“I can’t wait another moment”. I brace myself and let go. Within my next heartbeat, my feet touch the ground. My knees bend on impact, and I feel the vibration claiming every nerve as my body absorbs the force. Besides a slight sharp sensation in my bones, I take a moment to acknowledge I’m okay, and with a quiet exhale, I send a silent thanks to the universe. “I did it, I actually did it!” I cheer as I thrust my fist in the air and the adrenaline ebbs from thrumming deep within my core.

I curl my toes as my feet tingle from the sensation of the lush, vivid green grass almost tickling beneath. The tension in my body relaxes as I loosen my shoulders. A long sigh of relief escapes me as I unfurl the chaos within from a few moments ago. My eyes prickle with tears as I slowly take in my surroundings; I am no longer in a bird' s-eye view.

My head spins as I take in all the colours; flowers bloom with petals flourishing in shades of yellow, orange, and red. I start to sob a little as my knee gives way, and I lower myself to the ground and watch the trees sway and dance in the wind. The sun, now risen, emits rays of light that beam through the leaves of the trees.

I keep my eyes fixed on the light in a pool of water just off the tower's side. I gently move onto a considerable moss-draped rock near a small pond of turquoise water where it glows. I glide my fingers along the placid surface, joy filling my heart as I watch it shimmer and ripple beneath my touch. When the water settles again, I see me. I see my reflection shine, and I now know I was enough; I was the hero of my story, and I **rescued myself. **I feel the spark ignite, and power hums through me.