Children Of Shadow

“Vespera…”

The female voice cuts through the silence, gentle yet insistent enough to pull me from sleep. My eyelids flutter as I blink several times, trying to adjust to the bright daylight. Dazed, I lift my head and look around. A strange feeling comes over me. Someone must be nearby. But there is no one. Only the shrill cries of pelicans reach me, echoing off the high walls of the royal garden.

Still half asleep, I rub my eyes. The dream lingers, though I can hardly remember it. But when I look at my hands, I freeze.

The hands I am staring at feel strange, small, delicate, almost like those of a child. A surge of unease runs through me, and I breathe shallowly as my thoughts begin to spiral. How can this be?

Slowly, I lift my gaze to the glowing evening sky, burning in red and gold. A gentle wind brushes my cheek and signals the coming night. Something inside me resists the thought. A moment ago, it was still day.

Where am I? Is this really the royal garden? How can I be here? My thoughts race in search of an answer, but there is none. The last time I saw this place was years ago, when I was a child. Did I wander here in my sleep? But when? How?

Suddenly, a cold realization runs through me. It is impossible. I am strictly forbidden to leave my room. The door is always locked. And yet I am here.

Nothing makes sense. A shiver runs down my spine as I look up at the sky again. I stretch out my legs. They are shorter, much shorter than I remember. A strange tightness grows inside me as reality begins to feel more and more unreal. With a growing sense of dread, I force myself to stand up.

But when I try to push myself up from the ground, something unexpected happens. I barely lift myself. My legs, light and weak like a child’s, do not support me as they used to. My heart pounds in my throat, and a cold sense of unreality settles over me. What is wrong here?

“I am a child again,” I realize and clutch my hair in disbelief.

My normally long white hair, which I like to wear loose, is now the same length it was in my childhood. I have not had it cut since I was seven years old. That was ten years ago. Confused, I search for a way to see myself. But I find neither a mirror nor any surface that could give me certainty.

Dense trees line the high walls of the royal garden and hide what lies beyond them from prying eyes. The perfect prison. Even in my childhood, I could only enjoy the sky and listen to the voices of the townspeople drifting to me from afar.

I must be trapped in a dream. None of this makes sense. If that is really the case, why would there be limits at all?

With this thought, I run toward the high walls on my short legs, the walls that have cut me off from the outside world for all these years. I want to fly. I want to know who the people on the other side are, the ones whose lively conversations I can hear. I want to know what it feels like to belong. I jump and close my eyes, imagining that I am finally flying. But my feet barely leave the ground and touch down again at once. I stand still with my arms outstretched and let out a quiet sigh.

“This is a bad joke,” I murmur in disappointment. “Even in my dreams, I am a prisoner.”

Then the female voice that led me here comes back to mind. Where is she now? Why did she call me? She could not have led me anywhere else. I have never been outside the castle. I have spent my entire life here. Since the death of my mother, Isilyn, my name has been erased from the kingdom. My father, King Mukuta Valdyris, keeps me confined to the castle, and no one can do anything about it, because to everyone else I no longer exist.

I was too young back then to understand my father’s reasons, but I suspect they have something to do with his marriage to Queen Mayyira. She entered my life immediately after my mother’s death and has now been part of it for twelve years. She also made sure that my freedom was severely restricted. Since then, I have longed for the royal gardens, for fresh air and the feeling of grass beneath my feet after a rainy morning. The voice that led me here must know what this place means to me.

For a moment, I close my eyes and listen to the sound of the sea. What would it feel like to dip my feet into the water?

“Vespera… it is time.”

Again. What does this voice want from me? It sounds unfamiliar, and yet something about it pulls at me. Wait. I have heard it before. In my childhood. In this very place. Could it belong to my mother? Is that why it led me here? Why am I only remembering this now? I heard it for the first time when Queen Mayyira entered my life.

To be honest, I can barely remember my mother. Whenever I try to think of her, all that appears in my mind is an empty shell. My father says she died of an unexplained illness when I was two years old. After he married Queen Mayyira, my half-brother, Crown Prince Yula, was born. I do not know what my father intends to do with me or why he declared me dead to the kingdom, but this voice must be connected to it somehow. Perhaps he plans to marry me off to the son of a distant lord so that I can bear additional heirs if Yula fails to produce any. But how would that work if everyone believes I am dead?

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

“Vespera… you must break free.”

Break free? How am I supposed to do that? I am trapped in a world that is not my own. This dream world is difficult enough to escape. In the real world, my door is locked at all hours, and the key rests with Queen Mayyira.

Without an assigned escort, I am not allowed to take a single step outside my door. It has been years since I was last permitted to enter the library. Every new rule Queen Mayyira has imposed since her coronation restricts me further in every way. I have never wronged her, never shown disobedience, and yet I have spent all this time trying to understand the reason for her hatred toward me. To my father, she is the image of a devoted mother.

While my thoughts continue to circle around these problems, I find myself enjoying the cool breeze of the summer night. Time in this place seems to move at a different pace, or perhaps the scene shifts so quickly that I barely notice it.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning strikes the ground right in front of my feet. Startled, I draw my knees up and stare at my hands. They are no longer those of a child, but my own. The pleasant evening air quickly turns into a violent storm. Rain begins to pour down in heavy sheets. I watch as the drops soak my hand, then tilt my head back. But instead of feeling the rain on my face, I find myself staring at the ceiling of my bedroom. Am I back?

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of light. Instantly, I jump out of bed and swing my legs to the side. My feet touch the cold marble floor, and a shiver runs through me. Another bolt of lightning strikes. Drawn by a mixture of fascination and awe, I move toward the open window. As much as I love the sunshine, I love stormy weather even more. There is something alive and untamed about it.

Lost in thought, I lean against the windowsill where I usually sit and watch the world outside. Today, however, everything feels different, and I know it has something to do with the dream that felt so real. Another flash of lightning tears across the sky, branching through the darkness like veins. The day had been heavy with heat, and the storm finally brings the relief it promised.

Then something strange happens. Another bolt strikes, and in the center of the sky I see a figure, suspended high above the ground.

What is that person doing up there? How did they get there? Can people fly? I certainly cannot. The king employs alchemists, but they only brew potions, do they not? My father never allowed me to learn such things.

“Hey!” I shout into the raging storm. The clouds are pitch-black, and within seconds my clothes are completely soaked by the pouring rain. “How did you get up there?”

But the person does not respond. Either the storm swallows my voice, or they are deliberately ignoring me. I watch as the figure moves their arms in strange patterns, twisting and circling as if drawing invisible lines through the air. It almost looks as though they are controlling the storm.

Are my eyes deceiving me? Is this person truly responsible for the weather? How has this world changed during my long isolation that such powers now exist? Are there really people who possess abilities like this?

“Vespera…”

The voice. Is it coming from inside my head, or from that figure in the sky? I have to speak to them. I need answers. But I cannot simply lean out of the window. What if I slip and fall? My room is near the top floor. I would not survive the fall. But…, what if I can fly, like her?

Carefully, I lean forward. My left foot rests on the windowsill, my right already hovering in the air. Trembling, I grip the outer wall of the castle. Rain lashes against my face, blurring my vision. I reach out toward the figure in the sky and realize that it has noticed me. Just as it begins to turn its head, I am suddenly yanked back into the room.

“Have you lost your mind?” my father’s angry voice rings out. With his tousled brown curls and small brown eyes, he looks at me sternly. “Do I really need to put bars on the window?”

“What is going on here?” the queen asks as she enters the room at that very moment. Her brunette hair is set in curlers, and she wears a beautiful violet silk nightgown. A thin jacket is draped over her shoulders to shield herself from the cold. “Child, why are you lying on the floor? Servants, must I order you to help the princess to her feet?”

The servants enter and help me to my feet without a word. My father folds his arms and shakes his head wearily. Soon I am back beneath my blanket, but my eyes remain fixed on the window, where another bolt of lightning strikes. At this moment, the presence of the king and queen means nothing to me. Only when my father slams the window shut with a loud bang do I turn my attention back to him.

“Your father is standing here, and you are still staring out the window?” he shouts angrily, his pale face flushing red. Once again, he is upset for no apparent reason. “We are here at this late hour for something important.”

“Fortunately, we arrived just in time,” Queen Mayyira adds in a stern tone.

Just in time? My father was the one who pulled me back into the room. We were not here together. The queen came afterward.

With a sigh, my father continues, “There will be a grand celebration tomorrow. In honor of your eighteenth birthday. I expect you to behave impeccably, as important guests will attend who wish to make your acquaintance.”

“But…” I begin, frowning in confusion. “Do not all of them believe that I died years ago?”

He waves his hand dismissively. “That can easily be arranged. You have been staying with your grandmother Gaina all this time, and for the sake of your upbringing, we decided to declare you deceased to the public.” Convincing. Very believable.

My grandmother? Gaina Syldrakon, the mother of Queen Mayyira, has no blood relation to me whatsoever. Still, I have no intention of missing the chance to attend a celebration among other people. Perhaps the sons of influential lords will be there, men who maintain strong ties to my father. Perhaps I will find one who falls in love with me. Then I might finally escape this nightmare.

“Your mother will come to your room in the morning,” he announces. “She will ensure that you become Princess Vespera, worthy of the Valdyris royal family.”

I cannot find the words to respond. What could I possibly say? To my father, I am nothing more than a chess piece to be moved at the right moment. Yet when he suddenly offers me a warm smile and gently strokes my cheek, I notice something different in his eyes.

“My dear daughter has never disappointed me,” he says, resting his hand against my hairline. “You will make me proud.”

Does he truly mean that, or is this simply another game? It does not matter. It makes me happy. Is this the fatherly affection I have longed for all this time?

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