Blackened leaves crunched in recognition of her familiar feet. Pensively, she ambled through the forest of her childhood. Home again. How long had it been since she last returned? Mushrooms clustered around the mossy tree stumps which were dotted throughout the woods; vague sunlight slipped between branches, playing with shadows and colours as it caressed her cheeks. She doubted the forest had ever looked so beautiful. Still she doubted she would ever return.

She had been seven when she first stumbled upon the thick ivy-covered archway. It was shaped like the battlements of a castle and surrounded by a plentiful undergrowth of wild flowers amongst various other weeds.

Although the tunnel didn’t lead anywhere (the exit had been caved in by stubborn rocks long ago), the charming entrance was enough to enthral a child. Within a few days, it had become her safe haven.

Whenever she felt anxious or flighty, she sat with her back against the blockage and took a few deep breaths. The darkness combined with the biting cold was often enough to calm her down.

Having played such an important role throughout her development, it was naturally put on the tour of reminiscence.

Now overgrown to the point of chaos, Niamh carefully picked her way down the once frequented path. The forest had much changed, would the tunnel have?

When she finally gazed upon the entrance to ‘Niamh’s castle’, she could almost hear the fanfare of trumpets heralding her return. The ivy had grown thicker in her absence but that was all.

Drawing her hand across the stone wall, she followed the now forgotten twists and turns of the passage. But instead of getting colder, as she ventured further inside, the walls started to get warmer.

Interest piqued, she began to run towards the end of the tunnel. Could it be possible someone was camping in her castle and had lit a campfire? No, she would see the flames and hear the crackling echoed before she felt the heat of it. What else could it be? Maybe it was just one of those times when your senses get confused and thinks something’s hot when it’s actually cold or vice-versa.

As she rounded the cornered, she skidded to a halt and stared wide eyed. That was definitely not a campfire.

Where the blockage once was, there was now a shimmering, viscous, purple portal of some sort. Before she could inspect it further, she was sucked inside.