“Come,” said the Erlking, rising to his feet and extending a hand toward her. “I can see you are intrigued. I will show you.” “Er—no. Thank you. I’m quite content here, with my poetry and fairy tales.” He drew a step closer. “Are you reading fairy tales, miller’s daughter? Or are you living one?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, mocking her words to him in the dungeon. “It is only the gates to the land of the lost. What are you afraid will happen?” She glared at him. Then, with a long inhale, she took his hand.
