As Aunt Leonora and I approach Summer's table, I can't help but notice the sparse number of women seated there - only three, to be exact. Their attire spoke of a day spent in the wild, with high leather boots caked in dirt and other hunting garments adorning their figures. The smell of nature and sweat clung to them. They appeared rugged and untamed, a stark contrast to the other witches attending the banquet.

The one in the centre has her legs propped up on the table, smearing mud all over the pristine tablecloth. She and one of her companions are engaged in a loud conversation, laughing boisterously about some recent adventure in the woods. The third witch simply looks at them, not joining in their laughter – she appears embarrassed.

The instant they spot Leonora, the women fall silent and stand up, their faces immediately serious. Their strong presence is intimidating, making me hesitant to get too close.

"Eileen, this is Freya Oak, the Summer Queen," Leonora introduces, gesturing towards the woman in the centre. Freya is tall and strong, with dark hair and brown skin. Her hair is arranged in a herringbone braid, and though her face is attractive, it's also stern. Black, thick eyebrows frame her honey-coloured eyes. She strikes an imposing stance, fists clenched and legs outstretched.

A snake slithers out from under the table and coils around Freya's body in the blink of an eye, draping itself around her neck like a living scarf. It's a massive albino python, and it hisses at me before opening its mouth wide to reveal its sharp fangs. For a moment, I picture it leaping straight to my face.

Instead of greeting me, Freya glares at me with contempt and speaks directly to Leonora. "So, this is Diana's daughter?" Her voice is deep and hard, making me feel even more unwelcome than I already did. "At least she doesn't look like her," she adds.

I try to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest and the urge to be anywhere but here. What's her problem with me? She doesn't even know me! Leonora is about to reply when a hand touches her shoulder. She turns to see Romina Cedar, wearing a striking red dress. This time she's accompanied by her familiar, a peregrine falcon.

"Leonora, excuse me for interrupting you," Romina tells her. "I need you to show me where they kept the fumigation tanks we used this afternoon."

"Can you wait?" Leonora asks, clearly not wanting to leave me alone with Freya and her companions.

"I'm afraid not – one of my subordinates just realised that there was something wrong with the liquid and…"

"Okay, okay. Freya, please behave," she asks the Summer Queen, who snorts as a reply. "Eileen, wait for me here. Let's go," she says and leads Romina out of the ballroom while she continues talking about the fumigation tanks. Nyx hesitates briefly, then follows Leonora as she gives him a quick look before shrugging apologetically at me.

I'm left alone with Freya and her friends. I try to ignore the lump in my throat and not stare at the huge yellow-spotted snake that seems ready to pounce on my face. Determined, I extend a hand towards the Summer Queen. "Nice to meet you," I say.

But Freya doesn't shake my hand. She simply gives me a look of infinite contempt and turns her back on me to resume her conversation with one of her companions.

That was incredibly rude of her. But why? I've never even met her before. My cheeks flush with embarrassment and anger as I instinctively take a few steps back from her. Should I just leave and avoid the awkwardness? Or maybe I should stay and try to understand why she's acting this way. Regardless, Leonora told me to wait here for her. Ugh, what should I do?

Crushed by Freya's rejection, I decide to sit and wait at one of the adjacent tables, which is empty. My fingers find a napkin and begin to twist it nervously. The three women stand behind me, close enough for me to watch them and inadvertently overhear their conversation.

The person Freya is conversing with also shares her dark complexion and is of a tall and sturdy build. An unsightly scar mars the skin on her face, stretching from her temple down to the corner of her mouth. Her familiar, a huge black dog with pointy ears – a Great Dane, stands beside her.

The third woman is by far the largest of the three, to the point that, seen from behind, I would have mistaken her for a man. Her back is impressively broad and her arms are strong with defined muscles. Her movements are slow but powerful, and her expression could be read as upset or confused. A wild boar, her familiar, moves around her and wags its tail like a puppy. Despite the woman's coarse features, two beautiful emerald-green eyes lend a certain beauty to her face.

"And then this idiot trips," Freya says, shoving the strong woman, who just then is drinking pumpkin punch and nearly spills it everywhere. This only makes Freya and the other laugh even harder. "If it wasn't for those muscles, seriously, she wouldn't be good for anything. This one is so dumb that if she lost a finger, she would only be able to count to nine," she exclaims, punching the woman in the arm.

The woman pretends to laugh with them, but as soon as they stop looking at her, she lowers her head with a sad face. Watching her pretend to laugh along with Freya's cruel words, a surge of anger rises within me. I can't help but relate to her, remembering my own experiences with bullies at school. What is wrong with Freya? And how can that woman just stand there and take it? I can only imagine the way they treat her in her day to day. Does Freya think she can do whatever she wants just because she's the Queen? It disgusts me. I wish I could give her a good punch in the face, and show her that she's not above consequences. Being on the receiving end of such abuse was never pleasant. The feeling of helplessness, unable to do anything about it... It makes my blood boil.

Throughout all of this, Freya's gigantic python hasn't looked away from me once. Uncomfortable, I decide to walk away to one of the tables at the back, where they serve more wine. I need another drink... With determination, I head towards the table and fill my glass, only to be interrupted as Aunt Leonora and Nyx appear behind me.

"Sorry for leaving you alone," Leonora apologises.

"It's okay, I'm sure it was important," I say.

"Meh, Romina exaggerates a bit," Leonora whispers, winking. "Anyway, where were we?"

"You were going to introduce me to the Winter Queen," I lie, grateful for her presence and not wanting to address Freya again.

"Oh, yes, of course. Let's go," Leonora says, leading the way.

While we navigate through the room, I can't help but peek back at the muscular woman still enduring Freya's taunts. I silently hope that she finds the strength to stand up for herself someday. No one deserves to be treated like that, least of all by someone who is supposed to be their queen.

As we get closer to the table adorned with the Winter banner, a shiver runs down my spine. The massive raven surrounding the shield seems to stare right through me.

The central image on the shield is a snow-covered tree, set against a chilly winter scene. It's curious to me that there is an eye perched atop. It's not as intimidating as the dragon from Summer, but it lacks the cheerfulness of Spring and Autumn. It's a difficult thing to put into words, but there is something unsettling about it, especially that awful eye. Below the shield, the Latin motto "Omnia Arescet" is written. I wonder what it means.

As we make our way towards the Winter table, we suddenly collide with a pair of witches engaged in a heated argument. The sight of them stops me in my tracks. One of the witches looks to be in her mid-20s, not much older than me, with skin so pale it seems to reflect the light. Her shiny, black, straight hair runs like a dark river down her back, and her ball gown consists of a cobalt blue bodice that gradually fades to white at the bottom of the skirt, all decorated with pearly snowflake-like rhinestones. Her expression is one of annoyance, and her grey eyes glitter with fury.

The young witch in the blue dress is accompanied by a man who dons a beautiful crow mask with feathers at the rims that only leave his piercing blue eyes visible. He's dressed in smart black clothes, a cape made of black feathers flowing behind him as he moves around her witch. There's something peculiar about his gait, though—a slight limp that seems to make him favour one side.

The singer I had been admiring earlier was the other woman. She stands with her head bowed, weathering the angry storm of words from the black-haired witch. Up close, she's even more stunning than from afar, with vibrant green eyes that seem to sparkle despite her current situation.

"Don't tell me you don't know, because you always know where she is. She promised that she—" the black-haired woman is saying when Aunt Leonora interrupts her, placing a gentle hand on her back.

"What's going on, Muriel?" Leonora asks, her voice soothing and calm.

The woman—Muriel, I presume—stops mid-sentence, looking at Leonora before taking a deep breath. The tension visibly leaves her shoulders, and she appears to be gathering herself. The singer straightens up and offers a respectful curtsy to the Queen of Spring.

"Bianca's not here," Muriel says, her voice shaky. "The play starts in less than half an hour, and she assured me she would give the introduction. Ophelia mentioned that she—"

"Please, Muriel," the singer interjects, desperation lacing her words. "I swear I don't know where she is. I went to look for her at the Winter Palace as you asked but…"

"Whatever," Muriel dismisses her, rolling her eyes. "This is just typical of her."

Muriel turns her back on Ophelia, a cold and final gesture. The atmosphere is heavy with tension, almost like a tangible force in the air. Ophelia hesitates, then reaches out to touch Muriel's shoulder, but Muriel violently shakes her off.

"Get off!" she snaps, her voice low but menacing.

Muriel's fists clench tightly at her sides, knuckles turning white from the pressure. Her jaw sets, muscles tensing with each grinding of her teeth. The blue veins in her neck and temples seem to pulse, visible even beneath her pale skin.

Shadows begin to gather around her, twisting and writhing like living things, and the floor vibrates slightly under her feet. A chill ran down my spine as I noticed the candles flicker and the objects on the table tremble. Is this Muriel's doing? What kind of terrifying power does she possess?

Shit.

I'm not sure if this is the best or the worst birthday ever.