“Vespera...”

  The feminine voice pierces the silence—soft, yet so compelling that it abruptly tears me from sleep. My eyelids twitch as I blink several times, struggling to adjust to the glaring daylight. Groggily, I lift my head, my gaze sweeping around in search. A strange feeling creeps over me—someone must be nearby. Yet, there’s no one. Only the sharp cries of pelicans reach me, their calls echoing over the high walls of the royal garden.

  Still drowsy, I rub my eyes, the veil of a dream I can’t seem to remember hanging heavily over my thoughts. But as I look down at my hands, I suddenly freeze.

  The hands I’m staring at feel unfamiliar —small, delicate, almost like a child’s. An inexplicable dread courses through me, and my breath catches as my thoughts race wildly. How can this be?

  Slowly, I lift my gaze to the glowing evening sky, ablaze with fiery reds and golds. A gentle breeze brushes against my cheek, heralding the approaching night. But something inside me resists. Just moments ago, it was day.

  Where am I? Is this really the royal garden? How can I be here? My thoughts swirl, searching for answers, but none come. The last time I saw this place was years ago, as a child. Did I somehow wander here in my sleep? But when? How?

  Suddenly, a chilling realization strikes me. It’s impossible. I am strictly forbidden to leave my room. The door is always locked. And yet... here I am.

  None of this makes sense. A shiver runs down my spine as I glance at the sky once more. I stretch out my legs, and another jolt of shock courses through me as I realize they, too, are much shorter than I remember. A strange unease spreads through me as reality feels increasingly foreign. With a growing sense of foreboding, I force myself to stand.

  But as I try to push myself forcefully off the ground, something unexpected happens: I barely lift off the ground. My legs, light and frail like those of a child, do not support me as they usually do. My heart pounds in my chest, a cold whisper of unreality threading through my thoughts. What is wrong here?

  “I’m a child again,” I suddenly realize, my hands moving to my hair in disbelief.

  My once long, white hair that I always wear loose is now the same length it was in my childhood. I haven’t cut it since I was seven years old, a decade ago. Confused, I search for a way to see my reflection. Yet there is no mirror, no surface to confirm what I dread.

  The royal garden’s towering walls are surrounded by tall trees that prevent any view of what lies beyond. A perfect prison. Even in my childhood, I could only enjoy the sky and listen to the distant voices of the citizens reaching me faintly.

  I must be trapped in a dream! Nothing about this makes sense! But wait... If this truly is a dream, why should there be boundaries?

  With that thought, I run with my short legs toward the high walls that have kept me from the outside world for so many years. I want to fly, to discover who the people on the other side are, chatting so vibrantly. I want to know how it feels to belong.

  I leap, closing my eyes and imagining myself flying at last. But my feet barely leave the ground before returning to it. Arms outstretched, I stand motionless, letting out a quiet sigh.

  “This has to be a bad joke,” I mutter in disappointment. “Even in my dreams, I’m a prisoner.”

  And then, the voice that brought me here resurfaces in my mind. Where is it now? Why did it call me? It sounds unfamiliar, and yet... Wait! I’ve heard it before, in my childhood... in this very place! Is that why it brought me here? Why am I only remembering this now?

  Back then, I heard it when Queen Mayyira entered my life. Honestly, I can barely remember my mother. Whenever I try, all that comes to mind is a hollow image. My father says she died of an unexplained illness when I was two years old. After his marriage to Queen Mayyira, my half-brother, Crown Prince Yula, was born.

  I don’t know what plans my father has for me or why he declared me dead in the kingdom, but that voice must be connected to it somehow. Perhaps he intends to marry me off to a lord from a distant land so I can bear heirs if Yula produces none. But how, when everyone believes me dead?

  Is it my fate for my father to decide my life forever? Is there no escape?

  “Vespera... you must break free!”

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  Break free? But how? I’m trapped in a world that isn’t even mine! This dream world I’m stuck in is hard enough to escape. In the real world, my door is locked at all hours, with the key in Queen Mayyira’s possession. Without an assigned escort, I’m not allowed a single step outside. I can count in years how long it’s been since I last saw the library.

  All the new rules Queen Mayyira imposed since her coronation have limited me in every way. I’ve never done anything to her, never disobeyed, yet I’ve spent all this time trying to understand the reason for her hatred toward me. To my father, she is the epitome of a caring mother.

  As my thoughts spiral around these problems, I simultaneously savor the cool summer night breeze. Time in this place seems to pass at a different pace—or perhaps the scene shifts so quickly that I barely notice.

  Suddenly, lightning strikes directly at my feet. Startled, I pull my knees to my chest and look at my hands. They are no longer those of a child... they are mine.

  The pleasant evening air transforms rapidly into a violent storm. Rain begins to pour in torrents. I watch my hand, drenched by the falling drops, and then tilt my head back.

  But instead of feeling the rain on my face, I find myself staring at the ceiling of my room. Am I back?

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of light. Instantly, I spring out of bed, swinging my legs to the side. My feet touch the cold marble floor, and a chill races through my body. Another lightning strike follows. With a mix of fascination and awe, I make my way to the window. As much as I love the sunshine, I adore stormy weather even more. There’s something alive, something untamed about it.

  Dreamily, I lean against the windowsill, the spot where I usually sit, lost in thought as I observe the world outside. But today feels different, and I know it has something to do with the dream—so vivid, so real.

  Another bolt of lightning streaks across the sky, and the branching channels of light spread like veins through the night. The day had been oppressively hot, and now this storm is the relief I’ve been yearning for. Yet something strange happens: another flash strikes, and in the middle of the sky, I see a figure hovering high above the ground.

  What is this person doing? How did they get up there? Can humans fly? I certainly can’t! The king’s alchemists may serve in his court, but surely, they’re limited to brewing potions, aren’t they? My father never allowed me to learn such things.

  “HEY!” I call into the raging storm. The clouds are pitch-black, and within seconds, the torrential rain has soaked my clothes. “HOW DID YOU GET UP THERE?”

  But the figure doesn’t respond. Either the storm muffles my voice, or they’re deliberately ignoring me. I watch as the figure moves their arms in strange, serpentine patterns, almost as if they’re controlling the storm itself.

  Are my eyes deceiving me? Could this person really be responsible for the weather? How much has this world changed during my long isolation that people now possess such powers?

  “Vespera...”

  The voice...! Is it coming from inside my head or from this stranger? I must speak to them! I need answers! But I can’t just lean out of the window. What if I slip and fall? My room is near the top of the castle tower, and I wouldn’t survive such a drop. But... what if I could fly? Like them?

  Carefully, I lean forward. My left foot rests on the windowsill while my right hovers in the air. Trembling, I hold onto the outer wall of the castle. The rain pelts my face with such force that it limits my vision. I reach out toward the figure in the sky, and I realize they’ve noticed me. Just as they begin to turn their head, I am yanked violently back into the room.

  “Are you out of your mind?” my father’s angry voice booms. His disheveled brown curls and small brown eyes glare at me sternly. “Do I need to have bars installed on this window?”

  “What’s going on here?” asks the queen as she enters the room at that very moment. Her brunette hair is tied in curlers, and she wears a stunning violet silk nightgown, covered by a thin jacket for warmth. “Child, why are you lying on the floor? Servants, must I order you to help the princess to her feet?”

  The servants step in and silently help me up. My father crosses his arms, shaking his head in exasperation. I find myself back under my blanket, but my eyes remain fixed on the window, where another lightning bolt strikes. The presence of the king and queen matters little to me at this moment. But as my father slams the window shut with a loud thud, my attention shifts back to him.

  “Your father is here, and you’re still staring out the window?” he bellows, his pale face turning crimson with rage. Once again, his anger seems baseless. “We’ve come here at this late hour for an important reason!”

  “Good thing we arrived in time!” adds Queen Mayyira in a stern tone.

  In time? My father had pulled me back into the room; “we” weren’t here together. The queen arrived later.

  With a sigh, my father explains, “Tomorrow, there will be a grand celebration in honor of your eighteenth birthday. I expect you to behave impeccably, as important guests will be attending to meet you.”

  “But...” I begin, frowning in confusion, “don’t people believe I died years ago?”

  He waves dismissively. “That’s easily explained. You’ve been staying with your grandmother Gaina all this time, and to ensure your proper upbringing, we decided to declare you dead to the public.“—Reasonable enough.

  My grandmother? Gaina Syldrakon, Queen Mayyira’s mother, has no blood connection to me. Still, I won’t pass up the chance to attend a celebration among people. Perhaps there will be sons of lords in attendance with strong ties to my father. Perhaps one of them will fall in love with me—and I can finally escape this nightmare!

  “Your mother will be in your room first thing in the morning,” my father declares. “She’ll ensure you are the Princess Vespera worthy of the name Valdyris.”

  I can’t muster a word. What am I supposed to say? To my father, I’m just a pawn to be played in a clever move on the chessboard. Yet as he suddenly offers me a warm smile and gently strokes my cheek, I see something new in his eyes.

  “My dear daughter has never let me down,” he says, resting his hand on my hairline. “You’ll make me proud, I’m sure.”

  Does he mean it, or is this another game? It doesn’t matter—it makes me happy. Is this the fatherly affection I’ve longed for all this time?

  “Of course, Father,” I reply with a smile.