Mother would brush Heren’s hair when the stars overthrew the bright blues and yellows of the daytime sky. Heren’s feet kicked against the bed as she hummed the lullaby her mother sung to her when bedtime drew near. Mother wouldn’t sing to her after Heren became bigger, but Heren would continue to hum it in rejection to her inevitable maturation. Humming the lullaby while mother brushed her hair made it feel like she returned to being a kid again, though her feet reached ever closer toward the floor.
The brush bumped against a mini tangle in Heren’s hair causing her head to jerk back. She cried out and mother apologized before untangling the thing that made her hurt. Heren pouted but didn’t raise a fuss as the brush went back to smoothing out strands of her hair.
“Mother,” Heren said.
“Yes, yes Heren.”
“When will brother return?”
Heren’s mother chuckled and stroked a hand along her locks in an attempt to discover any hidden deformities. When she didn’t find any, she placed the brush on the scarlet nightstand and rubbed Heren’s shoulders.
“You know you shouldn’t be asking such questions.”
“But I want to know,” Heren turned so her stomach hit the back of the chair. It rocked unsteadily with her ferocious movement, but she managed to keep it from toppling over. “Grayhen hasn’t come back in two weeks.”
“Well, Grayhen has some important work to do. His work involves being away for a while, so just be patient. He’ll return, so you should not speak more of this. Especially in front of your mother.”
Heren pouted. The woman that Heren’s mother said was her real mother wasn’t her real mother. Mother was mother. She would tell her mother that every time, but she would just shake her head and “correct” her. When that didn’t work, they reached a compromise to not call her mother in front of her real “mother.”
“So now why don’t you get some sleep princess. You have a busy day tomorrow.”
Heren groaned and complained about how bedtime was so boring, but mother was hearing none of it. Heren swore that mother would only hear what she liked to. Instead of letting her stay up like she commanded, mother covered the sheets around her then left the room, turning off the Irestone lights, casting the room in darkness. At least it would if mother didn’t leave one piece of Irestone lit so Heren’s imagination didn’t get the better of her. Sometimes she would listen when Heren complained enough.
When the bedroom shrouded itself in near total blackness and the warm sheets covered Heren all the way up to the base of her neck, her eyes unconsciously began closing on their own. Though Heren desperately wanted to stay awake, she couldn’t fight her body’s natural instinct to sleep when lights turned low.
Heren wondered why her body would try and fall asleep in the dark when it was so scary to do. Whenever her eyes wandered in the darkness, she swore she could see something hiding inside of the blackened section of her room. Becoming one with it.
Melded by the darkness, it wore a face. Whatever it was, she didn’t know. Heren didn’t believe it to be a monster, and she knew it wasn’t out to hurt her, but she still feared it. Its sharp teeth and sideways eyes haunted her dreams. But only her dreams. It never once tried to harm her physically, but she wouldn’t put it past the thing.
Still, her eyes wouldn’t remain open. If it tried to attack her, she wouldn’t be awake to shout when it pounced. She closed her eyes and prayed.
***
Heren woke up in the same bed she’d slept in that day ten years ago. Her eighteenth rotation was still months away and she counted down the days with every new mark in the calendar. She flipped flat on her stomach and swept a hand beneath her bed. Something nudged against her fingers, and she wrapped her hand around it. She dragged out an old paper calendar she had Mylzen get her for the new year. Opening the calendar, Heren snatched an ink pen from her dresser and used it to mark down the day.
Heren sighed and thumped her fingers against the calendar. “Eighty-six more days.”
Sighing again, hoping that the act of sighing would somehow relieve Heren of her melancholy, she jumped off the bed and began dressing for the day. She decided that the day’s feeling would be best shown with a dark marine gown—open on the left side to reveal part of her thigh—and a moody black choker and cotton cuff on her right wrist.
Depending on whatever mood Heren was feeling, she’d dress accordingly to show what words could not accurately describe. On days when she was feeling rather happy, though days such as that had been growing disturbingly rare, she would adorn a pink shirt and white vest combined with a long white skirt and red necklace. Though Heren found it disappointing that she didn’t suit the outfit as frequently, she treasured the few days that were appropriate enough to wear it.
As for why Heren chose the somber blue style, it was because the day marked a rather depressing celebration. It was the day when mother died.
Heren didn’t know how she died. When she woke up on this very same morning ten years prior, she had received word that mother passed on. “Mother” didn’t even allow her to see mother despite it being customary that loved ones should have some last words for the passed. She justified it by saying that mother was somehow not a loved one to their family; merely a servant who did her duty to the very end. No matter how much Heren begged, “mother” just wouldn’t listen. She had to have some sort of dysfunction to deny that personal wish.
Heren looked at herself in the mirror to see if there was anything else she could touch up on. The way her bangs swiveled farther to the right upset her, so she moved them further center. Her brunette hair shone gloriously in Irestone light, and even without mother’s gentle brushing, Heren tried to keep her hair gorgeous to memorialize her in some fashion.
A sudden knock at Heren’s bedroom door startled her. She yelped and placed a hand on the wall. She could hear someone holding in a laugh on the other side which only made her pout. If someone were to laugh at her they should feel free. That way she could laugh at her own foolishness in return. Them holding it in only made it feel like she was being mocked. From the way the person knocked, and how little people would dare interrupt her, Heren easily deciphered who was behind the mockery.
“Come in,” Heren said.
The door opened and in walked a man wearing a tight red coat with black edges and buttons. The left side of the coat completely overlapped the right making the cloth look far thicker than the material actually was. If it weren’t for the upturned collar and her family’s emblem stitched onto the left side of the outfit, she’d probably have mistaken it for a bathrobe with the way it looked.
The man carried a sword tied to his waist; a Limber Dragon painted along the sheath. With perfectly emerald scales that shared a heavy resemblance to their viperish cousins, Limber Dragons were held in high regard to the Jeseria household. According to testaments that Heren read, one of her ancestors entrapped and trained a Limber Dragon to fight alongside them. When they died, the Dragon wouldn’t allow anyone to approach the body of its master. The Limber Dragon was used as a symbol of loyalty to the family ever since, becoming their emblem. It was mandatory for every high-ranking guard to have their sword sheaths painted to depict a Limber Dragon in show of loyalty. The dragon was painted so that its mouth opened at the very end of the sheath where the sword was drawn so that anytime a soldier drew their sword, it looked like they were taking it from the Dragon’s mouth.
“So, it was you, Mylzen,” Heren said, a gentle smile breaking free from its prison.
“It is indeed I, Misses.”
Mylzen was hired to act as her bodyguard a year after mother had passed on. “Mother” believed that assassins and kidnappers would attempt to steal Heren away as a bargaining device due to her position. “Mother” failed to produce any more potential heirs after she had been born, and since Grayhen had fled the family manor, that left Heren forced to step up and be the princess of the family manor. With mother gone, that left no one to look after Heren, so she eventually hired Mylzen to take the role mother left vacant.
Heren despised “mother,” but she recognized why she was so important. She controlled all the lands in the southern portion of Hendricks. Some said she was the most powerful diplomat in Hendrick’s borders, but Heren couldn’t see that. She’s seen “mother” in her weakest, most erratic episodes. It made her sick anytime she had to look at her during those embarrassing moments. The way she’d kick up a fuss when something as little as a maid forgetting to polish a specific wall occurred. How she’d, on a whim, sent assassins to dispatch a gentleman she couldn’t stand. Everything in her eyes had to be perfect, and anything that didn’t fit into her vision of a glorious Hendricks was as good as mud to her.
“Your mother wishes to see you before she begins her work,” Mylzen said.
Heren sighed for the umpteenth time, her melancholy seeming never ending.
“Let’s get it over with then.”
Mylzen nodded as he left the room and waited for her outside. Before leaving after him, Heren turned off the Irestone lights. Irestone was a precious material that would act as a light source when the rock was shaken around. The moment the Irestone stopped moving, so too would their light begin to fade. Lamps were specifically made to keep the Irestone in constant movement. Four were enough to light up a room, and the lamp had a function to churn only the Irestone corresponding to their respective button. Because of that, either all four could be lit or just one. It all depended on the room and the type of lighting Heren desired.
Since Heren was leaving her room behind, she turned off all the Irestone in the lamp. Darkness instantly filled the room with a sliver of light coming from the open door. Heren looked closer into the darkness for a few seconds. Seeing nothing lurking in the black, she exited into the corridor and shut the door behind her.
