Ella & Aurora

The blaring of my phone's alarm vanished, replaced by the soft cooing of doves. I blinked, but my familiar bedroom ceiling was gone—replaced by a canopy of sun-drenched leaves. I scrambled up from the damp grass, still in my faded jeans and t-shirt, the ornate antique mirror I'd bought at yesterday's flea market lying beside me in the dirt. ​"Who are you?" ​The voice was cautious. I turned to find Cinderella standing a few feet away, her sweeping blue gown immaculate against the woodland brush. Beside her, Princess Aurora stepped forward, her golden crown glinting in the morning light. ​Aurora extended a hand, her fingertips lightly brushing the denim of my sleeve. "What sort of strange garments are these?" she murmured, eyes wide with wonder. ​"I—I'm not sure," I stammered, my pulse racing as I looked between them. "I was just at home, and then..." ​The two princesses exchanged a swift, bewildered look before turning back to me, waiting for an explanation I didn't have.