On the morning of her tenth birthday, Tilly awoke to the sound of the garden birds singing just beyond her window. Sunlight spilled across her neatly made bed, touching the ribboned parcel her mother had placed at its foot.

With careful hands, Tilly untied the silk bow. Inside lay the most exquisite pair of shoes she had ever seen. They were of the softest cream leather, with a delicate strap across the instep, and tiny golden roses stitched at the toes. The moment she touched them, they seemed to catch the light in a way that made them almost glow.

Her mother smiled.
"These were made especially for you, my dear. Walk in them with grace, and they may carry you farther than you can imagine."

Tilly did not yet understand what her mother meant, but she promised to take great care of them. After breakfast, she placed the shoes upon her feet, fastening the little buckles until they sat perfectly. They fit as though they had always belonged to her.

She took a single step upon the polished floor—and the room shifted. The air shimmered like the surface of a pond touched by rain, and a gentle wind stirred her hair. Another step, and the walls seemed to melt into ripples of gold and silver. By the third step, Tilly was no longer in her room at all.