At the edge of a whispering forest stood a tall, sun-warmed tower. In its round room lived Rapunzel, whose hair ran long like a golden river and whose songs drifted out the window like birds. The sorceress who cared for her was tidy and serious, wrapping the room in charms and gentle rules. “It’s safer inside, little bird,” she would say, smoothing Rapunzel’s braid. And for a long time, Rapunzel believed her.
Each day, Rapunzel opened the shutters to feel the breeze on her cheeks, to smell pine and flowers, and to sing about places she had only seen in cloud-shapes. One bright morning a traveler paused on the path below, listening. He shaded his eyes and waved. “You have a beautiful voice” he said. “I’m Nico. What are you doing up there?”
Rapunzel’s heart thumped. “Oh, hello! I live here, but I can't leave. Tell me what you've seen today,” she said, leaning on the sill. Nico told her about boats like silver leaves, markets that rang like bells, and a castle whose windows held the sunset. The words made her smile, and dream of visiting those places. She knew she shouldn't dare leave, but something overcame her that day. “Could I…come with you to see those places?” she asked softly.
They made a careful plan, the kind that begins with small tests and steady hands. Rapunzel wove ribbons through her braid until it felt as strong as a ladder, then lowered a basket down, down to the grass. The next morning, with Nico steadying the line and a little wooden ladder waiting below, Rapunzel climbed out of the window. Hand after hand, breath after breath, she met the ground at last.