An illustration of a girl with a backpack looking at a village in a valley with a large mountain.

There once was a girl named Priscilla Everlin. She was born and raised in a quiet town called Unity Hill. But Unity Hill wasn’t as united as its name claimed. Everyone in town looked the same, dressed the same, spoke the same, believed the same things. Every child born in Unity Hill was taught the same story: “People who are different don’t belong here.” Just beyond the tall stone wall that wrapped around Unity Hill was another town called Brightmoor—a place no one in Unity Hill dared to speak of. Brightmoor was known for its differences. People there had different traditions, wore bright colors, danced to strange music, and believed in new ideas. To the people of Unity Hill, that was wrong. Dangerous even. And right in the center of Unity Hill was a strange, towering hill known as Brightmoor Peak—a mountain the townspeople claimed had no place in their perfect town. It was surrounded by electric fences and warning signs, marked as a symbol of everything “wrong.” Children were told: “Stay away. That mountain leads to their world. And we are not like them.” But Priscilla was a curious girl. While others obeyed, she questioned. “If we’re told not to speak to them... but no one ever has, how do we know they’re bad?” “If we never go near the mountain, how can we know what it truly holds?” She asked questions no one could answer—and that only made her more curious. Then one bright Saturday morning, something inside her shifted. She woke with a bold, quiet knowing. “I have to go.” See more