When I was a child, my dreams were like water: colorless and silent yet the only calm I had ever known. When I dreamt, I dreamt of the tranquil East Sea. I dreamt of black and white fireplaces, old libraries, and snow-heavy trees, dreams ever frozen in time. I had never seen the snow of the North, only paintings depicting it falling down like cotton from the heavens. 

My nightmares were in full color. I closed my eyes and my father was there, locking me up in the silence box. I screamed, but no sound came out. My hands were bound in anti-magic chains. My father took out a cloth and I passed out. I woke up with gashes up and down my back, starving because my father had forbidden me from eating. This was my punishment for my sins. I had sinned. I woke up, reminded of my existence. 

I woke up and my nightmares had become my reality. My father had given me a longer leash, but it was just an illusion. I was still a princess caught between dreams and reality, unable to fully block those memories out. I was still young and weak. I could be called back to the palace at any moment, no, I was sure I would be called back to the palace at any moment. I would come running back like a dog on a leash, unable to detangle myself from my owner's grasp. 

Most people’s tears are water, dripping down their faces until they eventually get absorbed, their sadness dissolving into their shirts, washing away their fears. My tears were like crystals. They held my dreams. They dropped from my face and onto the ground, shattering on impact, never dissolving. The shards scattered across the floor, where there is no chance to ever piece them back together. My sadness could never dissolve and my fears could never wash away. The crystal fragments splintered my mind, infecting it with every tear I shed. It was only a matter of time before my mind broke. 

After giving Analina to the aunties, I headed inside the castle. Calling it a castle is a bit much, considering it is just two towers and a house squished in between. The walls of the house are barren except for one room, Milo’s room. I walked in to find him asleep on the couch, his glasses askew atop his forehead and a book split open over his stomach. I gently removed his glasses and grabbed the book, placing both on his side table. Milo is my castlemate, a dwarf-elf hybrid with a penchant for inventing. He takes care of the house while I’m gone, and in exchange I let him turn the east tower into his own personal lab. 

My room is on the top floor of the house. It's not much more than a bed, a small cabinet, and a mirror. However, my closet is bursting with clothes. I have amassed quite a collection over the years, ranging from party ball gowns to costumes. Clothes are my comfort item. All I have to do is put on a different set of clothes and I can be a whole new person. I don't just have to be me, I can be anybody.

I walked up the stairs to the top floor and turned left into my room. I rushed to my cabinet and opened it to find my burnbee poison antidote. I had my suspicions that there was something different about those bullets. I smothered the antidote cream all over my right leg and the swelling died down in a matter of minutes. I was right. The bullets were enchanted to carry poison. 

I suddenly felt exhausted, as if my body could pass out at any moment. Rapidly healing the enchanted bullet wound had taken a toll on my body, and the 24 hours straight I had stayed awake to track my target didn’t help. I was drained. I stood up, but the world is spinning. My knees were about to give out. I grabbed onto the cabinet and inched my way toward the bed. One step forward and my vision was shrouded in black. Two steps forward and nausea was boiling up from inside my stomach. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast at the inn. Finally, I made it to the bed, collapsed face-first, and fell asleep.

My dream was a nightmare. This time it was my oldest sister, dressed up like an angel. It was the night of her debutante ball, so I was required to attend, even as a young teenager. I showed up wearing the outfit she chose for me, a well-fit brown dress and modest pearl earrings. It wasn’t the most beautiful dress by any means, but it fit well and it was comfortable. I spent the night doing loops around the ballroom, greeting noble’s children politely and efficiently, always sure to compliment my sister.

Nobody took an interest in me for long, that is until halfway through the night. My powers were manifesting in the middle of her debutante ball. My hair was turning increasingly purple, first the ends, then the roots, then almost my full head. By the last dance, the focus of the ball was on me and my wild purple hair, not the debutante. 

As soon as the ball ended, my sister cornered me and ordered her guards to chop off my hair. It fell in lavender puffs, falling to the floor until I had nothing more than an uneven pixie cut at best. But the hair would not stop growing. It's not my fault, I tried to say, I can't control this. But no sound came out. She slapped me and told me it was her special day. Why couldn't you just be nice to me? she yelled, You ruined the biggest moment of my life. I had. I was greedy. I sinned. Her guards took me to the silence box and chained me up against the wall, clamping my wings to the sides of the walls. I could hear the clang of the chains, I swear I could. If only I could regain my consciousness.

I woke up in a black room, unable to move my arms and legs.

What is the difference between reality and dreams?