* Ten years later *

With an enchanted sword in one hand and The Scroll of Truth in the other, the princess flew over the walls of the marble castle and…

“Ansgarde!” Mother’s voice rang from the courtyard.

“Coming,” she answered and tried to remember what she was writing.

… flew over the walls of the marble castle and was greeted by the most magnificent sight.

“I’m counting to three!” Mother bellowed. “If you’re not here when I’m done...” she didn’t finish the threat.

“Ugh, my umber life,” Ansgarde groaned and stuffed her scroll in the hidden nook under the bed, where the others were.

She jumped out the balcony, spread her wings, and landed in a crouch.

“Three,” Mother finished counting and shoved a bundle of fabric at her. “The order for the Drusy household must be finished today.”

“Today?” Ansgarde gasped. She was at the most exciting part of her epic tale and close to finishing it. “But today was supposed to be my day off.”

“It would have been if you had completed this order early like you were told. Stop arguing and get to work!”

Her mother, Anselma, was still young, not even a hundred years old yet, but her age showed in the coldness of her gaze and the thin mouth that had forgotten how to smile. Everyone always said that Ansgarde resembled her. They couldn’t be more wrong.

Anselma turned and flew back to the market while Ansgarde huffed, checking if any of the neighbors had witnessed her getting scolded like a little spawn. Thankfully, no one was lurking from behind their curtains.

Midday shadow hung over the quiet street. Beige houses spread around the shared courtyard turned orange from the glow of crystal lanterns that activated during the shadow hours. She was standing close enough to one of the crystals to feel the gentle tingle of magic.

Ansgarde hauled the fabric to the workshop and threw it onto the bench. She would have preferred to be a spawn right now to have fewer responsibilities, but as long as she lived with her parents, she had to help in the family trade.

If her family was a bale of silk, she was the snagged thread, sticking out, catching attention for all the wrong reasons. She should want perfection. She should aspire to climb the ranks of The Tailors Guild like her mother and make her family proud, but she clung onto hope that it wasn’t her only option. As beautiful as flawless silk was, blending in with the mass terrified her. And didn’t uneven threads form texture? There was beauty in uniqueness, though most Empyreals would disagree.

She sat next to her work and grudgingly picked up a needle. She designed a pattern of golden tendrils that complemented the exquisite red silk. She had a talent for embroidering but couldn’t enjoy the craft when forced into it.

Her thoughts traveled to the tale she was writing, and the time passed faster. A few plot twists later, she had finished her work and rushed back to her chamber to write it down before the words flew out of her head.

She lay on her bed, her quill seeming to write words by itself. She was a spectator to the story that was becoming more epic with every sentence. But soon, she ran into a wall. Sadie, her hero, couldn’t complete the task she had set out to do.

“Ay ai oi?” a little voice called out from her balcony.

“Come in, Spinel,” Ansgarde said.

Spinel was a Brumal, a small winged demon with green skin and spiral horns sticking out of a mess of feathery black hair. Brumals normally did not wear clothes, but since that would be inappropriate in Upper Heliodor, Spinel made an exception and wore the cute jade dress Ansgarde had sewn for her. She offered to make her an entire wardrobe - she would have loved to design dresses for the little demon - but Spinel put her tiny bare foot down. One was already too many.

She flew in, carrying a yellow fern leaf larger than herself.

“Good timing. I’m stuck,” Ansgarde said immediately.

Spinel landed next to the parchment, chewed on the leaf, and encouraged venting with a nod.

Ansgarde explained, “Sadie needs to sneak into the castle, but she lost her elixir of invisibility when she was captured two chapters ago.”

Spinel shrugged and mumbled while chewing. The leaf was quickly disappearing.

Ansgarde said, “Magic? She’s a warrior princess, not a runecaster.”

Spinel stared at her with those little black eyes, her mouth too full to say anything.

“Magic,” Ansgarde repeated. Maybe the magic would have to come from another character?

She gasped as she realized what she needed to do.

She opened the curtains wide to check the time. The sun had not risen from the west yet, but the midday shadow was slowly dissipating. If she hurried, she could sneak out to Lower Heliodor and come back before nightfall.