Cold metal wrapped around me, holding me down. The more I struggled, the greater the restraint became. And it felt as though my very life force was being slowly sucked into the void. It was a pain that was not only physical but tearing my essence.

     Darkness.

     Darkness everywhere. In my mind. In my soul. In my body.

     Time felt like an eternity wrapped in a blanket of absence. Then, a voice. Someone was calling out to me, and their call was sweet and calm. A beacon of light biding for me to follow their trailing tone. I tried to answer back to them, but I could make no sound. The chasm continued to consume all that I was.

     My body became weightless, while my mind remained restrained. Was this a terrible nightmare or my new life? I knew there was someone out there waiting for me to wake up. But I couldn’t picture their face or remember their name. Their touch. I could feel their touch. A rough palm, but a gentle caress across my face before holding my hand. Their perfect lips ever so softly touched my temple as something warm and loving slid down my cheek.

     Eyes shooting open, they strained into focus. I was not in my bed. I was not in my room. I was not in my home. My stomach churned as the panic started to set in. My hands flailed around my side as I felt the silken sheets shift under my panic. Where was my husband? And why could I not remember anything?

     Sitting up, I looked around the large room. White marble floors sparkled and shimmered in contrast to the dark décor. The large four-poster bedframe could comfortably fit three or four and was the intricately carved centerpiece. A large fireplace was alive and well-fed as the flames danced to life.

     Large navy curtains draped over most of the side wall, hanging from the ceiling to the floor. My eyes locked on their subtle movement - a breeze. A possible way out, but they were closed. Surveying, I focused on the torches and lamps placed throughout the room, illuminating the otherwise dark space.

     To the side of a large armoire, a section of the room disappeared down a long hallway out of view.

     Possibly the bathing room?

      I sat up and scooted to the headboard just as the wall I was facing opened to reveal it was a door hidden in plain sight. The ornate carvings of the door and frame blended into the detail of the room.

     A woman walked in. She glided with poise and sophistication, as she made her way to my bedside. I had spent most of my life among humans, but I could instantly tell she was like me and my husband. She was elphien.

     We elphien aged, but a fraction of the rate of humans. An entire lifetime passed for them would barely be an age line for us. Our natural exquisite beauty and physical superiority were matched by the intensity of our emotions and passion — we were, in every way, a species more heightened than humans. It had been longer than I could remember since I had seen another elphien, other than my husband, of course.

     She strode quickly across the room with a thin smile stretching wide across her porcelain face. She was a tall and lean woman who radiated light.

     My heart pounded as I struggled to dissect my emotions. Fear won and I frantically began looking around the room for something, anything, I could use or hold between the two of us. Where was Delmaries? He needed to be here and tell me exactly what was going on.

     There was nothing I could use, and my husband was nowhere to be found. I leapt to my feet ready to fight for my life. If I could even justify battling an unarmed woman.

     “Who are you?” I struggled to keep my voice strong.

The woman froze, just now noticing my hostile demeanor. “Cordelia?” She nearly whispered.

     My throat tightened as I frantically searched for any memory of this woman. But I could find no recollection. “Who are you? How do I know you?”

     Taking a deep breath, the woman spoke slowly with a hitch in her voice. “I am sorry, Cordelia. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She smiled wistfully as she turned from the room and departed, her pale blonde hair following behind her.

     Climbing quickly out of the bed, my feet touched the cold stone as I scurried over to the two ceiling-high curtains. With each step I took, the sparkling white floor illuminated with bright shades of blues, purples, and greens. I looked down in awe as I stepped and danced my way across the large room. The lights were playing and dancing, filling the room with glimpses of color.

     I pulled the curtains open as I shielded my eyes from the brightness that came pouring in. Blinking as my eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden change, my mouth fell agape. The beauty. I had never seen anything like it. Noticing that the large glass panels were doors to an outer balcony, I opened the large doors and stepped outside. The white flooring extended out until it met with an ornate black railing. I felt something inside my chest warm and burn as I turned back to the room. I peeked around the corner back to the black doors and waited for something, but nothing came.

     Turning my attention back to the view, I was overcome with emotions. The beautiful green landscape was decorated with trees and foliage of cider, fire, and strawberry. The mix of autumn colors blended with the evergreens to create a painted picture of perfection. Down below, I smiled as I watched a river flow through the land before disappearing into the horizon.

     My heart pounded as my chest tightened. I couldn’t hear anything, but I could feel it. The white stones under my feet tightened and flexed with anticipation and energy.

     I followed my steps back into the bedroom and the main door flew open, and there stood a man of essence. He was the physical embodiment of fear itself, a presence that stole the breath from your lungs before you even understood why. His eyes were voids, cold and bottomless, promising ruin without a word. Every step he took seemed to darken the air around him, as if the light itself recoiled in his wake. They were quick and purposeful, each one a sharp crack against the ground, as if even the ground braced for him

     I stumbled backwards as I struggled to put distance between the two of us, but I dared not to take my eyes off him as he continued to pursue. His long black jacket flowed like a cape, and his eyes locked on me. A lion hunting its prey. The air cooled as I stepped back on the balcony; my hips bumping into the metal railing behind me.

     Looking around, the stone walls that held me belonged to a fairytale cottage in an enchanted forest. A cottage where I was a prisoner, and my captor pursued me where I could not run. His pursuit came to a head as he rounded the corner to the balcony. My heartbeat quickened as I frantically looked around. There was nothing I could use. His scent of white amber and citrus wafted in the air as I looked over the railing. Below, there was a vacant grassy courtyard with a large central fountain and several gardens.

     It was a long drop, but if I could slide down the railings a few feet, the fall to the grass below would leave me with, at worst, a broken bone. But I wanted to get as far away from the closing man as I could. I braced my arms on the railing as I jumped and attempted to swing my leg over. But it did not work well as the long grey dress I was wearing inhibited my movements. Even if I had gotten over in time, I still would not have been fast enough. He was already on me. His rough hands braced my waist as he spun me around to face him, his tanned skin and dark hair were blurs of features as his eyes locked onto mine. He held me in place as he stepped closer, his feet now straddling mine and his body pressed against me. Preparing to speak, he inhaled deeply before furrowing his brows and closing his mouth.

     Taking one hand off my waist, he ran his hand across his stubbled chin. He shifted his weight even closer to me. His dark tunic brushing my chest as he leaned down. His breath was warm as the light prickles of his dark beard feathered along my cheek.

     “Cordelia.” He growled my name before taking a step back. His eyes still locked on me

     A shiver rose from my warmth and traveled into my chest as I truly felt his presence. I struggled to focus my attention on him for more than a brief moment as his dominating stance had me glancing away. His dark eyes dilated and focused on me. Studying every inch of my body as I avoided his gaze. I wanted to break away from this hold he had on me. A predator pinning its prey into a corner before devouring it. I could flail over the railing and pray to the stars I landed in the water below, or I could bolt past him and make a run for the door. Before I could do anything, his hands grasped hold again. I attempted to jerk out of his grip, but his larger stature and sure grip made the attempt futile. It only seemed to aggravate him-his jaw clenching and eyes narrowing.

     He kept his soulless eyes locked onto me as he called into the air, “Ermis! Lock her in.” His final sentence was slow and deliberate as he studied each word before it left his mouth. 

His nostrils flared just as I caught a faint scent of smoke. His hands fell off my waist before he turned and stormed out of the room. His black boots pounding into the floor as his steps left no colors behind, but lifeless black ink pooled and then disappeared under each step.

     I looked back to the railing and went to reach for it, but my hand was stopped by an invisible wall or barrier. Every time I pushed on it, the scent of smoke filled my nostrils. I gave it one more push and it responded by pushing against my whole body. I tried to stick my feet to the ground, but the force was strong enough when I tried to resist, I could feel my feet lose traction. And I could either walk with it, or it would trip my feet out from underneath me.

     With one final force, I was back inside the room. The balcony doors remained wide open, but I could no longer feel the cool air or hear the sounds from the outside world.

     I looked around just as the man took his final dark pooling step out of the room. I hesitantly crept behind, following the mysterious man, but just as I reached the door, it slammed shut. I reeled back from the speed in which it closed.

     The color-illuminating floor was cold on my bare feet and every inch of me wanted to climb back in the bed and hide or find another way out. But something deep in my chest urged me to follow the man. 

     I reached out and grasped the doorknob. It turned with ease, and I pulled open the heavy black door. The walls across the hall from me were a similar dark color with mounted ornate torches. I glanced from side to side before taking a step through the door. But I couldn’t. The barrier seemed to encase me in this bedroom.

     “What the…?” I pushed harder.

     “Hello?” I called out into the hallway. Unsure if my voice could even carry through the mysterious doorway. “Hello?” I cried out louder as I continued to push. “Let me the out of here!”

     I scanned the room and spotted a writing desk tucked against one wall. Hurrying over, I grabbed the matching chair and dragged it across the marble floor. It shrieked with every inch, the scrape of wood on stone, but unlike the footsteps left by the man and me, it left no streaks of color or shadows in its wake.

     There was nothing else small enough to move, so I steered the chair toward the entrance. Scooting it forward, I edged it closer to the invisible boundary. One slow push at a time. As I reached out my arm, both it and the chair touched the threshold-and to my surprise, the chair slipped through without resistance.

     My eyes widened, a flicker of triumph sparking in my chest. I pushed it forward again. Pulled it back. Forward. Back. Each time, the chair passed cleanly through, and I kept testing it, a strange satisfaction blooming with every smooth glide. But my hands could not follow. Regardless of how quickly or slowly I moved the chair back and forth, it did not inhibit the chair’s ability to pass through the doorway, but it did not help mine either. This is ridiculous. Feeling my shoulders and chest stiffen, I resigned to the fact I didn’t have any other ideas. I lifted the chair to my chest and struggled to hoist it above my head. An umbrella to shield me. My head now rested where my ass would normally be seated in the chair as I fought to keep it above my head and walk.

     Walked to nowhere. Once again, the chair passed through with ease, but my arms would not. Frustrated, I let out a feral scream as I flung the chair off my head and through the doorway. It crashed to the ground as it slid to a stop at the wall across from me. Turning around in frustration, my eyes widened at the writing desk across the room. Accompanying it was a chair. The same chair I had just thrown.

     I glanced back just to make sure I hadn’t imagined anything. But there it remained in the hallway. I turned again, but there it was on the opposite side of the room. Maybe there had been two and I just hadn’t noticed. I sprinted across the room and grabbed the other chair. After dragging it back to the entrance, I picked it up and launched it through the entry. Sending it crashing onto the other chair before tumbling to the side. Still the barrier would not break.

     I ran my hands through my hair as my mind started to spiral.

     Who were those people? Where am I?

     I stared down at my feet and turned in tight manic circles. My husband was not here with me, but being confined to this room made it impossible to check if he was a captive too. Possibly in a neighboring room? My steps continued to illuminate the floor with bright colors that dissipated into the air. They knew my name, yet neither person cared to speak to me and had left abruptly. The absurdity of it all was as dizzying as my movement. My eyes flicked upward and caught sight of a third chair that appeared a few feet back from its previous position.

     My nostrils flared as I stalked across the room to the insult that was the chair. My hand gripped the familiar wood as I hauled it back and tossed it out of the room. But every time I turned around, another had replaced the one I had discarded. The chair moved each time it reappeared. On top of the bed, out on the balcony, even the bathing room.

     Each time I carried, dragged, kicked, or hurled the chair across the room and through the barrier, the heat in my chest rose. I was becoming physically tired and weaker each time. My sanity broke a little each time a new chair was added to the pile. Showing me how no one was coming to give me answers, and there was nothing I could do about it. Which would cause the burning embers of my anger to re-ignite.

     I attempted to throw the chair that appeared on the balcony over the railing, but that seemed not to be allowed. Or rather a correction was made by these invisible barriers that made their own rules. When I first lifted the chair over the balcony, it had no difficulty crossing the railing, but then it quickly rejected the chair back into my side of the barrier. Understood. No throwing chairs at the people gawking below. Regardless of how much I might have wanted to. Not that they had done anything wrong to me, but they did continue to ignore my cries for help. And I knew they could hear me.

     One time I could not find the repopulated chair until I caught a glance down the hallway I noticed earlier. I tossed the chair out of the hall and into the main room but allowed my curiosity to take me down the small hallway. It opened into a large bathing room. The dark tub, glimmering with flecks of starlight, extended outside where the water flowed to a pond below. It was large enough to easily accommodate over a dozen people. It was carved from the most exquisite black marble and took up half the bathing room. Must be expensive. Would be a shame if someone ruined it. Maybe that would get someone’s attention.

     I went back out into the bedroom and grabbed the chair. I towed it through the hallway before giving it one strong kick as it splashed into the water. Maybe a bathing tub full of chairs would be just enough to anger someone into confronting me. I smugly strode into the bedroom and looked around to find where the newest chair had appeared. After a minute of looking, it hadn’t even appeared around the hidden corner of the large balcony.

     Maybe the house decided it didn’t want its furniture being destroyed anymore. I entered the bathroom to make sure it hadn’t appeared in there, but then furrowed my brow. There weren’t any chairs in the room. Not even in the bathing tub.

     I felt my nostrils flare as I stormed into the bedroom and straight to the barrier. There had to be nearly thirty chairs spilling down both directions of the hallway and piling in front of the doorway. There stood the chair. Perched atop the mound of furniture. Water dripped mockingly onto the pile beneath. A grin spread as a chuckle slipped from my lips. Air entered and exited my lungs sharply as I stared at the sheer nonsense in front of me.

     My laugh grew louder as my sanity started to slip. My legs weakened as I collapsed to my knees. This couldn’t be real. This was some cruel dream that I needed to awake from. Maybe Delmaries and I drank too much wine last night. That must be it. This must be some drunken hallucination. That’s the only explanation, right?

     My hysteria grew louder until it was equal parts laughter and fear. By the time the tears began to fall, there was no laughing left. I covered my face with my shaking hands before collapsing forward as the wails grew. I looked up to the doorway and slowly crawled forward. The sight of the dripping chair dried my tears as it turned to rage. When I reached the border, I clawed at it frantically. The tips of my fingers began to hurt, but there was nothing to show for my effort. Nothing moved. Nothing changed. Only the increasing pain in my fingers and head. It pounded harder as I filled my lungs to capacity and let out the loudest scream I could muster.

     "You cowards!" I roared, breath burning in my chest as it tore free. "Let me out..." The last word cracked, splintering into a desperate rasp. My knees buckled, fists clenched, and I collapsed onto my side, fury hollowing into trembling despair.

     My hand just barely touched the invisible barrier. I sniffled softly as I struggled to breathe. My face and hand warmed and I barely had the energy to tilt my head and look. Black flames appeared on the other side of the boundary as they consumed all the chairs I had thrown into the hallway. I knew I should move further away, but my fear was not strong enough to overcome the fatigue I felt.

     A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead as the blazing flames grew taller-now reaching the raised ceiling. Just as I went to wipe it away, the fire extinguished itself and only a pile of ashes remained.

     “We love you.” I heard a smooth female voice whisper.

     I pushed myself off the floor and frantically looked around the room. There was nobody I could see that could have spoken to me.

     “We will always be here with you.” Another voice, but this was deep with a slight growl.

     I frantically closed the door and scooted over until my back was to it. I looked side to side as I called out, “Who’s there?”

     “We are.” The two voices said in unison.

     But there was no one in the room. “I can’t see you!”

     “We can see you.” She answered.

     The raspy man cut her off, “We will never stop watching you.”

     My heart pounded faster as I now missed the quiet loneliness. “Who are you? Why am I here?” I didn’t want to waste an opportunity for answers, regardless of my fear.

     There was a long silence before he replied, “We are for the king and queen. I am Lux.”

     I glanced around the room for the source of the voices.

     Silence filled the room before she answered, “I am Umbra. You are here because the king found you.”

     “What does that mean?” I cried out in panic. “What does he want with me?”

     Over the quiet, I could hear a faint tapping noise. It was coming from across the room near the bed I awoke from. The long nightgown made the task difficult, but I slowly started crawling towards the sound.

     “He wants you away from Prince Delmaries.” Umbra’s voice reverberated with anger. “He is coming now. We must go.” 

     I froze as my mouth fell agape in confusion. Delmaries. They knew my husband but were mistaken. He was no prince.

     “You are mistaken! My husband is not a prince.” I called into the air. “Where are you going?”

     Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement from under my bed. Two little mice sized creatures scurried out from under the frame and disappeared out onto the balcony.

     “I wouldn’t call your husband a prince either.” A deep third voice spoke from closer.

     My eyes widened in horror and recognition. I whirled around on the ground and came face to face with black leather boots. Darkness pooled under his feet like a spilt inkwell. It was the same man I had encountered on the balcony earlier. His features were striking, but he filled my chest with acid. He was disheveled and looked as though he hadn’t combed his hair in weeks.

     He looked around the room before looking down at me, “Who… were you speaking with?”

     My eyes narrowed as I studied his presence, “I’m not exactly sure.”

     He tilted his head as he watched me, “Curious.”

     I was still on the cold floor when he extended his hand down. I contemplated accepting, but after noticing the long dagger strapped to his hip, I decided against that. I pushed off the ground and rose to my feet-wiping my hands off on my silk gown. His eyebrows flicked upward only momentarily before lowering his hand back to his side. 

     The way he looked at me made my insides warm. The look of familiarity or knowing. The smugness.

     It infuriated me.

     I felt my lip curl and twitch as my words turned from curiosity to resentment, “Who in the mythic are you?” I paused as I took a deep breath to steady my shaking voice, “And what am I doing here?”

     “What did your magic voices tell you?” He coaxed.

     “You,” I hesitated before continuing. My frustration growing. I did not want to play this mind game of his, but my curiosity was stronger than my anger and fear. “Are the king?”

     His eyes narrowed, but he remained silent.

     “And you brought me here. For a reason unknown to me,” I studied his face intently, but his dark façade was unreadable. “Is my husband here?”

     “What did they tell you,” His voice barely above a whisper.

     I looked down at the ground, “They said you took me. You wanted me away from him,” I felt my voice crack as my eyes watered. I single tear slid down my cheek as I met his lifeless gaze, “Why would you do this to me? What did I do to you?”

     His jaw feathered as he raised his hand towards my face. I flinched and took a step away from his touch. He snatched my wrist and pulled me against him. My chest touching his, he grabbed my chin and tilted it to look at him. I pushed against him as I pulled my head away, but he grabbed tighter and pulled me closer. I was forced to look into his eyes-a pit of darkness with no life or soul. The same emptiness this man in front of me embodied. He opened his mouth to speak, as his eyes narrowed to nothing more than slits. The tension and silence were all-consuming.

     His eyes softened ever so slightly as he spoke. His voice was commanding and unwavering, “I am King Xanothor. King of Chantera- a noble realm of Tevanna.” He released his hold around my waist and chin. He held the title of king, but his appearance was disheveled. He looked as though he hadn’t bathed in weeks, or possibly longer. His eyes were sunken but had a craving in their darkness.

     I immediately started creating distance between the two of us. A few steps back and preparing to take another-the king uttered a sound of disapproval as he encroached slightly.

     My eyes flickered to his waist at the dagger still resting there. For the briefest of moments, I contemplated reaching for it. And then doing what with it, stabbing him? Flashing a glance, I knew it would end quickly, and not in my favor. He looked battle hardened and like someone who you didn't mess with. Even if I did have the element of surprise and magically he didn't overpower me immediately, I didn't have any leverage to get him to take me home. I felt my teeth lightly graze my bottom lip as my mind raced with possibilities of how to get out of here.

     “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he growled deeply.

     My eyes flashed in horror, “Do what,” my meek voice quivered.

     “My Soteria,” A devilish grin curled one side of his face, “There are a few things you need to be aware of while you are here.” He stepped to the side of me as he continued, “I always know what you are thinking before your breath can utter a single word.” He continued his circling, “Never attempt to wield a weapon you aren’t familiar with. There are many cursed and blessed.” The king unsheathed his dagger and held it in his hand, twirling it as he spoke-now facing me again, “For example, my dagger, Extrele, was forged for me in the mythic lands. It is incapable of doing anything other than what I desire.” He flipped the dagger in the air and caught the point between his thumb and forefinger-extending the handle to me. “Try, if you doubt me.”

     I froze as I briefly contemplated trying anyway, but I sensed no deception in his words. I glanced from the blade to his face. His eyes narrowed on me before softening. “No?” He returned his weapon to his side, “Intelligent.”

His infuriating smirk returned as he held eye contact and reached to his other side. He pulled out two smaller daggers and my eyes studied their design. They were unlike any weapon I had seen before. One had a blade made of a material darker than the night sky, but its handle was a prism of light colors. The other dagger he held could not have been more different. Its blade looked to be made of the purest crystal and the shimmering colors of the sun reflected in a pool of water. The handle imbued the same darkness as its wielder’s eyes.  

     “Now, one of these might suit you better.” He looked down at both daggers as he turned them over in his hands, “They were forged in Univella. A gift from the lord and lady of their realm.” He glanced up as he momentarily searched my eyes. Without breaking eye contact, he flipped the one with the light blade and dark handle, catching it by the tip. It was the same trick as before, repeated with ease, and this time he extended the handle toward me. “This one would be loyal to you. It will do its best to suit your needs of the moment.” King Xanothor gestured for me to take the blade from him.

     “You speak as if it has thoughts and feelings.” I uttered just loudly enough for him to hear as my eyes stayed fixed on the blade in front of me. The near-clear material was filled with the brightest remnants of color. Yet as I tried to fixate onto a streak or shimmer of cast-it would dissipate and reappear in a different space of the blade, just out of focus. It teasingly drew me in, but refused to be thoroughly seen.

     Until his voice broke me from my trance, “You do not think they do? They are not capable? Then you underestimate the magic of your own world.”

     “I do not trust magic,” my words were as sharp as my eyes.

     “You,” the king lowered the dagger as he contemplated, “do not trust magic?”

     My silence was answering as he continued, “Why?”

     I lifted my head in dignity, “It took my family from me, and almost cost me my husband. We do not trust magic.”

     His mouth fell slightly agape. He looked truly a fool as his mind seemed to stumble and trip over such a simple concept. I felt his weakness. I had caught him off guard.
     “And no, I will not tell you what happened. That is a story for those I am close to.” My nose wrinkled in disgust, “And that certainly is not you.”

     “Tevanna may change your mind-if you give her a chance. Here in Tevanna, our enchanted forest has brought even the most brutish elphiens to tears with its beauty and enchantment.” The king paused, but when I did not answer, he continued as he gestured the dagger for me to once again take, “Regardless of what you think of magic or my kingdom, royalty should always arm themselves. In my kingdom, Tevanna, or anywhere else.”

     I did not accept his offering of the weapon, but my words were sharp enough, “I am not royalty.”

     He clenched his jaw as his onyx eyes focused on me, “Did you not say you were married to Delmaries?”

     “I did, and I am.”

     “Delmaries, Prince of Dumtorum?”

     “Delmaries, lord over our lands, but no others.”

     He chuckled as he brushed past me to the desk, “How sad. He never told you he was a prince.” He set the dagger down on the wooden surface and continued, “And from what the elite told me, you were not living the lavish lifestyle your title deserves.”

I turned towards his direction, “I told you; I am no princess. Stop calling me one.”

     King Xanothor looked at me with his infuriating grin as he curtly nodded, “I promise not to call you a princess. Is there anything else you would like to request?”

     My eyes widened in utter confusion and shock, “Is there anything I want to request?”

     The king silently nodded.

     I looked around the room and gestured wildly, “I would like to return home to my husband. My family. My life.” My chest heaved as I found the absurdity of his obliviousness infuriating. What else did he imagine I could or would want from him?

Expecting a mocking or teasing reaction, I was stunned by his apparent genuine surprise, “You wish to return to Dumtorum?”

     “I wish to return to my husband!” I looked around the room, desperate for someone to reassure me I had not fallen to insanity, but there was no one but us.

     As if my thoughts had betrayed me, the soft female voice from earlier returned “He will not return you to the prince.”

     My jaw clenched and I inhaled a deep breath. My husband is not the prince. The fire inside me was growing.

     “The king will not return you to the lands of Dumtorum. You are here now in our home. Chantera will keep you,” the gruff man spoke into my mind.

     “Chantera will keep you, but the prince of Dumtorum will come for you. Yesssss.” The woman soothed, “He will try to take you back to his home before the long sun rises.”

     How do these two know so much of my husband? Could he really be a prince? And if he is, why did he never tell me? What di-

     My thoughts were interrupted by King Xanothor’s intrigue, “Lost in your mind, my dear?”

     “I was talki-” but I stopped myself, not allowing him privy to my own delusions or otherwise. “I was thinking of asking to leave this room.”

     He took the smallest of movements forward, “Yes, you may leave.” His eyes studied mine before crossing his arms across his chest, “You are more than welcome anywhere in Chantera.”

     I could sense his contemplation.

     “All of Tevanna if you wish. So long as one of the elite are with you at all times.” He struggled to suppress a smile, “But don’t worry, I’m sure you will get along with them very nicely.”

     “I find that difficult to believe if they are close friends of yours,” I snarked in return.

     “The decision is yours,” the king gave a resolute shrug and brushed past me. “There is clothing inside the wardrobe. Surely something will fit you.” He stepped into the hallway and called out just before closing the door behind him, “Join us downstairs when you are ready.”

     I wanted nothing to do with this king and his people. I only wanted to return home and be with my loving Delmaries.

     How I missed our early mornings when we would lie awake and listen to the sounds of our farm awakening with the sunrise. The birds squawking as they stretched their wings in the morning rays. Mules and cattle sharing their evening’s dreams of tall grasses and freshly pulled carrots. We treasured the soft moments before the day would take us from each other before reuniting in the evening. Delmaries would gently kiss my forehead then I would rest my head on my favorite place in the world. His chest was bare and warm as my cold fingers and lips would trace over his contours. He would brush my hair out of my face as I looked into his beautiful hazel eyes. My hair was much longer back then and would fall across my eyes and cheek as I would rest upon him. Bright rays would trickle in-illuminating the tint of orange in his wavy brown locks that usually go unnoticed. I would reach up and play with the ends as they danced just below his bare shoulders.

     It was my favorite memory. Even though it was not of one particular moment, but a collage of years spent together. Through all the cracking thunderstorms and bright lightning illuminating the nights, he would hold me tight. He would wrap his arms around me as he pulled me tightly into him. Our bodies a complementary pair as I lay perfectly nuzzled-my bare back flush with his toned chest. I wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms.

      But it had been made clear I would have to find my own way home. No one here in Chantera was going to help. They are the ones who took me from my world of happiness and bliss. The king spoke as if he were my friend, yet his actions were the opposite. And why wouldn’t anyone tell me what I was doing here? Why they brought me here? If they weren’t going to give me any answers, I would find them out on my own. I only needed enough information until I could leave for home, but I could not find my way home until I knew where I was.

     I strode to the armoire and opened the wide doors. An array of long dresses hung from the top bar, but there wasn’t much that appealed to me. The long flowing gowns seemed impractical in the event I had an opportunity to flee.

     I just started to close the doors when the soothing female voice spoke in my quiet mind, “Check again for them.”

     I thought for a moment, but decided to trust her; I opened the doors again and rifled through the same dresses. They were still the same extravagant and impractical formal dresses, and still looked like they would not come close to fitting me. As I pushed the last dress to the side, I found a hanging pant and sweater. I pulled them out of the closet and held them flush to my body. The black leather pants were much more appropriate in sizing and practicality, and the cobalt and jade sweater was perfect for my complexion and the chilly weather.

     I took the clothing over to the bed and laid it down neatly. I began to undress but froze. Glancing around the room, I spoke out to no one in particular, “Don’t watch me.”

     There was only silence in both the room and my mind. Feeling alone, I quickly undressed and donned my new attire. The leather pants were tight but allowed for flexibility and movement. The sweater was made of the softest material I had ever known. I found myself stroking my arms to embrace the comfort.

     My attention was drawn to the front door as I heard light footsteps growing closer. The door was opened as a small woman emerged. She hastened across the room directly towards me. I took a step back in apprehension, and she stopped a short breath away. Her pointed ears peaked out from underneath her chopped black hair. Narrowed ocean-blue eyes scanned me from head to bare feet, as the smallest elphien woman I had ever seen shook me to my core.

     Her voice was piercing, “What is this you are wearing?” Petite hands tugged at the base of my sweater before I jerked away.

“This is not one of my gowns. This is no Syrena.” She gestured exuberantly up and down to my form before she brushed past me and flung open the wardrobe. She flickered through each dress as she continued her irate tirade, “Syrena. Syrena. Syrena. Yes. All mine, and yet you do not wear one.” She pulled one out and held it up to me. The black base and turquoise top blended in a perfect ombre fashion. The entire dress sparkled and the silver-scaled top decorated the plunging neckline and capped sleeves. A crystal-decorated sheer cape was attached to the top of the sleeves and covered the low backline. Her short stature struggled to keep the base of the dress off the ground; as she twirled the dress around, a large slit up the leg appeared. “The size! The size is all wrong. I thought he exaggerated about the changes.” She looked at me again, “So covered. You are so covered.” She put the dress back and approached me as she pulled out a rope from the pocket of her short green skirt.

     “What are you doing?” I asked the curt woman as she began stretching the rope around my waist. I tried to take a step back as she wrapped it around my leg, but her size was no representation of her strong grip. I was planted back in place as she mumbled to herself and continued to play with her small rope.

     Exasperated, she took a step back, placed her hands on her hips, and stared me down. “Close the slit. Raise the neckline. And the waistline needs to be completely adjusted. What am I supposed to do with just a week to go. Dreams are not so easily altered you know?” Her frustration was adamantly pointed at me.

     My confusion was apparent, “I’m sorry?” 

     “No, child. No. Not you. No apology. Much to do and little time to have it all done. And it all must be changed. I will do it. If there is anyone who can do it, Miss Syrena can.”

     “Are you Syrena?”

     Her mouth fell agape, “Am… I…Syrena?” Her offense was not well hidden, “Am I the great Syrena? The greatest seamstress in Tevanna. Serving the house of the king and queen of Chantera for over a thousand years. Trained by the royal seamstress of the Mystic Lands; the only one in all of the mortal lands who can weave and sew magic. Yes, child, I am the great Syrena.” She strode past me as she looked at me with a face of confusion, “I will send Regan up to see if you need any assistance.” Syrena closed the door behind her as she mumbled to herself.

     “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I whispered to myself as I looked down at the clothes I had just donned. My bare feet and toes wriggled out from the base of my pants. I looked around the room and saw a pair of black boots. As I reached down, I saw a dark roll neatly placed inside. Slipping on the stockings and boots, I laced them tightly up to my calf.

     Just then, there was a knock on the door. I did not immediately answer so there was a second rap. “Yes?” I called out.

     The door opened and a tall woman entered and spoke, “Miss Syrena sent me to see if you needed any help.”

     “What?”

     She entered and gestured towards a small table with a large looking glass I had not noticed earlier. There was a small, padded bench she pulled out and motioned for me to sit. I was more than capable of tending to my own needs, but the woman looked eager to help. I obeyed her and slid onto the bench and stared into my reflection. My eyes widened slightly as I gazed back at the face staring at me. I didn’t look like myself, and yet it was me.

     Regan got to work as she rifled through the drawers. I noticed a boar brush sitting on the top of the vanity. I closed my eyes as I thought back to when Delmaries would comb my hair for me. I would lay my head across his lap and he would carefully work through the tangles. At times it was of a length when it was fully straightened, I would accidentally sit or lie on it.

     I smiled to myself at the fond memory. I looked in the looking glass and saw Regan working her nimble fingers quickly as she fastened a necklace at the nape of my neck. She spoke not a word and as quickly as she had entered, she exited the room, and I was once again left alone. I continued to stare at the woman looking back at me. Although I knew the reflection was me, I did not recognize myself. But rather a shadow of the woman I knew myself to be.