“Before the sun sets on the eve of her sixteenth year, the princess shall prick her finger on a spindle. With the first drop of blood, a sleep will fall upon her, claiming her for a hundred years.”
My mother tried to call in another witch to remove the curse. My father burned every spindle he could find. However, nothing could lift the curse, for all their efforts. The witch had disappeared into a cloud of green smoke. No one could find her after my christening, despite endless attempts to locate her. The only thing she left behind, besides her curse, were dreams of dark eyes.