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Feeling the warmth of another’s skin, the intimate contact, the surge of safety and comfort. Castorice was left wanting what should’ve been a normality. That was if she was a normal being to begin with – branded as the Servant of Death, the Daughter of the River of Souls, with death being inevitable to those she touched. The Maiden brings a painless, peaceful demise yet her inner thoughts are anything but as simple. Was it so wrong to desire the beauty of humanity? The same foolish creatures brought sin and destruction to the world, yet they nurtured life and cherished it thoroughly.
Whether it was the botanist who supplied her wildflowers to feed her dragon or the chefs and servants willing to serve her, every act of kindness meant so, so much. It was a reminder that Castorice can integrate with the bustling streets of Okhema, that she is still a Chrysos Heir, a title all looked up to.
But Okhema was not Aidonis. It was not a place where she felt normal, nor was it a place where her presence could slot into the expanding puzzle called the city of refuge. Selfishness was a part of everyone, she acknowledged that, but when the feeling possessed someone who didn’t expect anything for themselves, it felt utterly wrong, like an imposter squeezing into glass shoes. Taking ownership of something that could never be theirs, but just for the moment, they could pretend and indulge in their delusions.
Phainon was gone to his trial, with dreadful anticipation plaguing all Chrysos Heirs. Many things could take a turn for the worse, she felt in the depths of her overthinking mind. Castorice sensed a foreboding tide ready to make its waves over Okhema. What if things could never be the same again? The normality washed away in the black seas stretching beyond the unknown?
Before she even knew it, her footsteps approached the formidable stairs leading up to the galaxy of the Titan’s constellations, the same breathtaking sight that gave her peace of mind. What led her here was simply a need to voice out her thoughts that nobody should hear. The raw vulnerability that burdened a person like her could never be shared for fear of bothering others. Aglaea and Tribios had Okhema’s responsibilities on their shoulders, Phainon already carried the reputation of the flawless Chrysos Heir and there was Mydei…
Mydei, the crown prince of a fallen city.
Mydei, the undying warrior with the virtues of steel.
Mydei, the voluntary outcast. It was all too familiar.
People too similar will inevitably repel — at least that’s what Castorice told herself in hopes of justifying her innate shyness and unyielding will to never bring harm to others, even if they were proclaimed to be immortal. She could never connect with Mydei, for the sake of both their duties and ambitions. He could still connect with others on a physical level. He could still remain fearless despite all the atrocities he battled through. He could still keep a logical, praise-worthy mindset through all sorts of tragedies.
She could not imagine herself living up to those standards. A heart weak and ready to shatter if the world demanded had no spot next to the blood-red crystal throne of Castrum Kremnos. And yet, the same heart couldn’t help but beat rapidly at the dazzling allure of those sharp, golden eyes that glimpsed at her occasionally during missions when they worked together in comfortable silence. Not to mention the fiery tribal markings adorning his bare torso like displaying his pride; across the room, the conspicuous silhouette never failed to catch her attention like a moth drawn to a flame. Albeit, Castorice knew having the guts to admit her admiration meant sending herself to the grave, ironically.
A solemn sigh escaped her lips. Her form slumped by the top of stony stairs, reluctant to face the cluster of stars. The only place where night seemed to exist with cool hues reflecting off towering walls.
Thanatos, why must I have a life-seeping curse? I wish for a day to be rid of all worries, to have comfort in the warmth of another’s embrace, alas, it is too much to ask for.
With a dispirited glance at the constellation of the Titan of Death, she departs with heavy steps. As always, expecting nothing. Castorice should fulfil her duties as a Chrysos Heir and search for the existence of her Titan. After all, nothing would change – she must guard the lament of souls and embrace the solitude of destiny.
Despite that, she wants to believe in the foolish fantasies of books she engrossed in throughout the years, collecting from all libraries across the city. A dream is a wish your heart makes…it was a ridiculous, childish quote she kept in her memory since childhood.
How in Kephale’s world is this possible? Castorice awoke early to the everlasting light, wanting to avoid crowds as she wandered along emptier streets, stumbling over an uneven pavement as her feet accidentally landed on the plush glass. The obsidian colour of death was not in sight – instead, emerald green greeted her like she received a fairy Godmother’s blessing.
It couldn’t be…did the Titans above hear her wish? Was it a force beyond the sky that acted upon her or simply a hallucination? Step by step. The greenery remained. Step by step. She gasped with profound wonder and excitement, like a child seeing snow for the first time. If there was a witness to Castorice lying spread out on the grass giggling like some maniac, it would have been best if they had not told the story, as no one would believe it.
“Castorice has informed us of her sickness, so it appears you’ll be in charge of feeding the Dromas for today, De!” Trianne fluttered around the imposing crown prince, who appeared extremely reluctant.
“Can’t I be put for more productive activities? Does Aglaea no longer care about slaying Titankin?” he grumbled in defeat, “Fine, I’ll take over. Firstly, send my regards for her recovery.”
“There there, why don’t you message her yourself, De? Don’t be shy!”
“Do you really need to ask that? You know exactly why.”
“It’s never too late to befriend.”
“Who said I was going to make friends?”
“Snowy did, and let’s say we all agree, De! Cas is a lovely girl, and I think she wants a friend too! I know her well enough, trust me,” Trianne’s overly optimistic tone could evoke a scoff out of Mydei, but what if she’s right?
“If that’s what’s going to get you to stop pestering. No guarantees though.”
“Finally, De! Good luck!”
If Mydei took a painstaking ten minutes to rephrase his get-well-soon message to Castorice on the teleslate, nobody had to know.
Castorice never considered attending one of Okhema’s lively balls until now. If she kept track of when it reached midnight then nobody would be hurt, and Castorice would await the next day with a fulfilled heart, carrying no regrets.
She had already worn her disguise throughout the day exploring the city with newfound ease and awe, chatting with citizens, eating at the finest dineries and playing with the adorable creatures scattered around. Reality was a fever dream, but she wouldn’t want it any other way. If only normality became a day like this for the rest of her life…
Having bought a purple dress last-minute was not on her plans either, but she needed a suitable attire for the evening and the seamstress was in big favour of her with the way the dress was tailored. A large satin bow cascaded down the back along with the lacy train skirt of the dress.
“Darling, I think you’ll suit a flower crown like a dream.”
“Thank you miss, I can make one right now if you have some flowers.”
“Indeed, I’ll make you the star of the night, just leave a good review here and come back anytime, alright?”
“Thank you for everything, your dedication and your passion. May prosperity behold you, miss,” Castorice knew the lady would never see the same person again, but in her imagination, they would still fawn over pretty bows and dresses once more.
The air is soft with a light breeze, carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass ready for the revelry. Okhema’s citizens mingle and laugh with lightheartedness, the soft clinking of glasses and hum of conversations blending with the gentle rhythm of music, expertly woven by lyres and tambourines. Castorice had no experience in social settings, but her sights were on the plentiful tables of food, and the exquisite display of drink fountains of vibrancy. Was that…pomegranate juice she saw? The unique pink-ruby colour attracted her, signalling a new experience as she grabbed a chalice, ready to drink to her heart’s content. Just for tonight, she can be the happiest girl in an old tired, lonely world.
“I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to–” Castorice bumped into no other than Mydei as she made her way to the fountain. He was a great enjoyer of the flavourful pomegranates, she had forgotten this second. What was more shocking was his presence here, knowing that they shared an avoidance social evenings like a plague.
“No problem, are you headed this way too?”
“Yes, Lord Mydei, I haven’t tried pomegranate drinks before and…well, I hope it’s to my liking,” she smiles at Mydei’s awkward expression, knowing he was trying his utmost in this suffocating setting. If only he knew, would he still regard her with the same tense manner, or even worse? Would they still be facing each other like strangers in the daylight?
“As an avid enjoyer of the delicacy, I can confirm it is a drink many must like. Add milk if you wish, though this should not be spread,” the ending remark sounded like passing notes in secrecy. Castorice laughed, carefree and delighted to see a slightly flustered look on the man.
“I will trust your recommendation, Lord Mydei. Thank you–”
“Have we met?” his eyes whispered with a blend of suspicion and curiosity like he was dissecting Castorice’s appearance. Her facade slightly cracked under his gaze, feeling an odd reaction – heat on her cheeks and a shiver in her body, not to mention her shifting eyes.
“No, we have not, Lord Mydei, but I hope you enjoy this evening. It is an honour to have greeted you,” with a polite bow, she turned away before she lost herself in the gilded dawn of his eyes. Mydei would not voluntarily disturb her for the rest of the evening, she knows it as Castorice would’ve done the same.
Soon, the long-awaited section of the ball began. The dance. She was more than ready to slip away into the shadows of the gardens until a growing crowd caught her eye, and in the eye of the storm was none other than Mydei.
A swarm of eager women hoped they had a chance to dance with the crown prince, who had a reputation for reputing such foolish behaviour, but Castorice supposed they merely wanted a shot. Seeing the man’s face losing patience with every drowning second, she couldn’t leave knowing he was stuck here for heaven knows how long.
“Excuse me, I’m here to escort His Highness,” she announced her presence to the crowd who begrudgingly parted, “Your Highness, it’s time to leave as you requested.”
Mydei widened his eyes for a split second before nodding silently with gratitude. Castorice realises she helped him, making her strangely content.
As they headed out to the entrance of the venue, Mydei slowed his steps down the stairs.
“Thank you, truly.”
“Haha, no problem at all,” she glances at him with a gentle smile,”The pomegranate juice was in fact, quite to my tastes. With the milk was even better so, thank you for that, Lord Mydei.”
“You’re one of good tastes too.”
“That’s a stretch for just pomegranate, but Lord Mydei is a well-known fan so I completely understand.”
“May I have your name?”
“Oh,” was she perhaps, a target of Mydei’s interest? In a short period seemed farfetched, but it felt like magic when those words came out of his mouth.
“It’s Luna,” she replies, hoping it was believable enough, “I’m quite fond of the concept of the moon and a night sky, so I thought it could reflect in how people refer to me.”
“The night sky, huh? It is a vision to behold, I assume you know what I mean.”
“Indeed, it brings a serenity that I cannot explain. Okhema may not have the view, but I can still admire its beauty.”
A soothing stillness stretched over them as Mydei led her to a railing overseeing the city in its broad daylight. Castorice took a moment to simply look at him, imagining a flawless, sparkling night as they stood next to each other. What would he look like, bathed in the moonlight that contrasted so starkly against his fiery features? Would his inner kindness and the considerate nature he attempts to conceal appear more prominent? She wouldn’t dare let go of a sight if it ever will befall.
“Care for a dance, Miss Luna?” Mydei abruptly requests, avoiding facing her, “You can excuse my poor dancing skills, I am a warrior at heart as you may know it.”
“Oh? Are you certain you don’t have somebody waiting on you?”
“Not at all, I’m not one for dances but, I want to do something out of gratitude, if that is okay by you.”
Castorice, touched and wonderstruck, breathed out, “Indeed, I am flattered. Yes, I will accept a dance with you, Lord Mydei.”
He took hold of her hand, mindful of his metal gauntlets not scraping her pale skin, the sudden fuzziness of the contact was unreal, mesmerising, enchanting even. They shifted closer as the minutes flowed, performing a slow, clumsy dance with only their eyes as a witness of the ephemeral time, ticking by all too soon.
“It was a wonderland dance, Lord Mydei, one I won’t forget in a while,” one which I shall never forget was the truth never making its way to his ears. Yes, they might’ve stepped on each other’s toes or stumbled over a few times like inexperienced fawns – who said it didn’t make the experience even more memorable? No forcing laughter or faking smiles, a deed Castorice had done countless times in the past, but never around Mydei and certainly not now.
“I will treasure this experience too, Miss Luna. Thank you for your time,” the prince replies with a creeping blush, dazed from processing what just happened. The lady knows she didn’t look any better than him, a shared sentiment of their special moment.
“Wait, don’t leave yet! I…still want to give you something, here, let me make you a flower crown, then you’ll have something to, well, remember this by,” she blurts with a sheepish smile, wanting to prolong whatever euphoria was coursing through her veins.
“Oh, like the one on your head?” he questions softly, “I’ve been gifted enough flower crowns by the children of Okhema, but one more from you wouldn’t hurt.”
“Great, take a seat and I’ll be quick, Lord Mydei,” she got to work picking the nearby daisies, using what she learnt today of making a flower crown, a task she observed far too many children do but could never participate in until this day. Castorice hums softly, immersed in the therapeutic action and the lingering stillness.
With pride, she presents him with the finished gift, getting the honour of placing it atop his fluffy hair. Perfection. Not even a camera with her preferred black-and-white filter could capture the beauty of this moment; it was only for her eyes to preserve, like an everlasting rose.
“You suit it very well, Lord Mydei.”
“I do? It’s not often someone would associate me with…flowers. Pink daisies too,” the prince mumbled with marvel. His favourite colour – did she somehow know, or was it a lucky guess?
“Haha, is it a crime to? I think it fits a noble and brave heart like yours just fine.”
“Miss Luna, I–”
The bells in the distance rang, signalling a new hour. Castorice knew all too well it was the hour of her departure. The hour when she returns to her kind of normality when she loses the spark in her eyes when she forces herself to shatter the warm, warm embrace of Mydei. His calloused hands intertwined with hers was no more, not ever in the future.
Bidding farewell with glassy eyes, she descends the flight of stairs, not caring if one of her shoes had slipped and was left forgotten, not caring if the dam burst in her heart and tears rolled down uncontrollably. She was leaving too soon. They both knew it. No one had the power to stop finality.
Mydei was left with a ghost of her presence – a delicate, authentic soul he was more than grateful to have met. With hands unnaturally ice-cold but a heart blazing with innate compassion, how could he forget her?
Castorice...
Left with a dull ache, Castorice made her way back to her quarters, clearing away her blurry vision but to no avail, like trying to repair a broken glass overflowing. Futile attempts to console herself of what felt like a stabbing heartbreak.
She checked her teleslate to distract her thoughts, only to see a message that could make her break over again.
No longer will she feel someone’s touch in the realms of life. His touch. His embrace. Her thoughts will echo his name for the rest of the hours she’s left awake, but she’ll spend forever, wondering if he knew…