She breathed.

How easy it seems, how automatic. But it strangely hit differently when you did it in a cemetery.

The atmosphere, the heavy yet cold air, and that disturbing feeling you grew in your chest at the thought of walking on literal cadavers made graveyards singular.
To have those impressions amplified by ten, sleep there.

That's exactly what Jade did, by accident, of course, but did.

"Woke up, friend?"

Spirot. Sitting on the top of the stone with a small grin.

"Yeah... what time is it?" She mumbled, rubbing one last time her fuzzy eyes.

"Eight of the morning..."

Perfect, she'll have time to explain herself.

"... Saturday. We're Saturday, friend."

A week goes : Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, FRIDAY, Saturday, and then Sunday, right?

"WHAT?" She jolted fully awake. "WHERE DID FRIDAY GO?"

Spirot's eyes rolled. "In your sleep." It shrugged.

Great, she was fucked.

If she had come back before, she would have been divested of the library for one year, but now, it was more till she'll die, and suicide isn't an option.

Spirot coiled on her collarbone. "Your magic vessel was empty and, as our connection got interrupted by the magic ropes, it led to a magic deficiency. It's an enough explanation for your need of sleep." The spirit justified.

"Not sure that'll stand a chance in front of a father full of wrath."

"He will be more worried than angry." It shook its head, as if the thought was a parasite to propel away.

"Don't think so..." Jade cleared her throat with a dramatic impression before putting a flawless grin on her lips.
"Hi, Sir Dad! If I gone missing for three whole days after your best friend's murder, it's because I decided to go undercover to find a good servant. Unfortunately, I was arrested for the murder of that same best friend even if I had nothing to do with it. I rotted for a night in a cell before some weird Diagolists I crossed paths with once kidnapped me and tried to burn me alive. No worry, I killed them, but I used all my magic doing so, thus I blacked out and slept for twenty-four hours in a cemetery."

The bunny gave her a soulless smile, already fading away in the silence.

"He won't be angry? Detective Spirot?"

"OK," it sighed. "You do have a point." It slumped, groaning in defeat.

"I always do." A triumphant smirk lifted the corner of her mouth, on which Spirot rolled its eyes. She stood up, determined. "Let's go."

But in two spins, she remembered the rock she took a seat on for sleeping had transformed into a gravestone, on which Jade couldn't help but feel guilty about sleeping on it.

She had placed her ass on the last memory of a certain Lumen Sapur, glorious acknowledgement from a ten-year-old.

She had only one way to wash away her guilt, flowers. It's what we offer to dead people, right?

It's probably what her family offered after her death.
Maybe. If Julia had the time, since George was still angry she broke the marriage with his father, and would never have taken the care of placing flowers.
And Minnie and Kim were too little to realize she was dead.

A bouquet imposed itself as the best solution.

Her feet hovered on the path meandering between the tombstones, aligned next to each other, disappearing under the lush of early June.

This place was the last of hundreds, thousands, of people. The disconcerting yet not disgusting aura of it tugged Jade further amidst the high trees.

Dying.

What did it feel like?
Did you just fall into darkness forever, or did you forget everything to start anew? Did your soul evade your body, and you watched your life parade before your eyes afore being dragged down to heaven or hell?
Telinians believed souls are all the same and just did recycling. Was it the truth?

Ugh, great, existential crisis.

At least, with their beliefs about how the corpse was useless for the soul, Telinians' coffins were weaved with simple materials—the stems of mugworts—findable at every corner of vegetation in the empire. Eco-friendly and cheap, in short.
That was a win-win situation for Telin and Telinians.

A stain in the grass caught her eye.
White, tall, wavy petals paired with small maroon beans spread in the middle.
A lily.

The legs of hers automatically dragged her there.

The one pearl stain was followed by another, and another, another, and another.

Then an ocean of pearls bloomed before her very own eyes.

Every inch of the wide meadow was monopolized by bouquets of lilies, each perfectly blossomed and unfurling their elegant petals in an attractive elegance.

Her pupils and brain drowned in the marvelous prairie, occulting anything around, before or ahead.

Beautiful, gorgeous, magnificent, divine—the words passed in her mind faster than she could catch their meaning. They didn't catch the charm of that land, not even an ounce. It was pointless to catch them.

But a bouquet. That was a word to catch.
The bouquet wasn't going to fly to her hand.

She crouched, gently twisting the stems, silently hoping they'd easily rip.

Between the lilies, a long silky line was drew by a celeste color, invisible in the waves of white.
Hair.

Hair?

She slid her eyes on it till it joined a head.
A body, curled up, of a child, sobbing and sobbing again.
The weeps didn't let her wonder if he was dead or not, thankfully.
Maybe, thankfully.
His eyes were tightly shut as wails escaped his lips. Frightened, terrified; this kid was having a nightmare.

She made her voice gentle, a tender hand offering itself. "Hey, are you al—"

"DON'T LEAVE ME!" He seized her waist fiercely, weeping harder, yelling louder. "DON'T!"

As if she could go when he caught her like that.

She was sometimes heartless, but not an asshole.
She wasn't going to punch a little boy because he snatched her waist, settled on her lap and made her unable to complete her bouquet.

His frown had vanished with his ear-burning wails to leave a peaceful visage.

He looked kind of familiar.
Damn, that boy was going to break some hearts.

What was a child doing here? In the middle of nowhere? In a graveyard?

Lost? Erring? Abandoned?

His grip around her waist tightened as a groan evaded his slightly opened lips.

Ouch, she was going to suffocate if he continued squeezing.

"Dad?" He bobbed his head, eyes still closed.

"Uhm, no. Not dad."

Jade swore he jerked away from at least one full foot in one bolt, his eyes ready to jump out of their orbits.

Violet. His pupils were the deepest, submerging, violet she had ever seen. Perhaps plum was more accurate with that depth.
This could be dangerous for the girls who'll meet him when he'll grow up.

"I'M SO SORRY."

Oh, he was screaming.

It yanked Jade out of her admiration. "For what?" She babbled.

"I-I shouldn't have fallen asleep and... and laid on your lap." His cheeks and ears had turned bright red—wine perhaps—and he tried hiding it behind his small palms.

"So boys don't sleep now?" She frowned in question, not understanding the reason of the blush. "I do not see reasons to apologize."

He flushed more, a deeper tint of red. "B-but... your tights..."

Right, patriarchal society setting.
Show your ankle to someone you're not married to, and you were dead in the eyes of society, or, more exactly, in nobility.

This boy was a noble.

But nobles didn't abandon children, apart if they're bastards.
Was he?

She shrugged with exasperation. Another mystery ahead. "No problem. Not gonna die."

He gifted a dumbfounded visage.
You see fishes? That was it.

The fish didn't manage a word, thus Jade decided to ask, but not too loud since it seemed that the slightest change in her voice could have sent him running. "What are you doing here?"

His eyes illuminated. "Making a bouquet." He slipped out easily, his blush suddenly evaporating into thin air. "And you?" 

Cute. This kid was irresistibly cute.

"Same." She grinned, resisting her desire to hug this cutie pie till death.
If he was truly erring, she could adopt him.
Bring him home and make him a servant or, if her parent accepted, a brother.
He seemed alone, and bringing him to a home was better than leaving him here.

"T-those flowers are quite beautiful." He blurted out of the blue, the tints of pink peeking out again on his cheeks.

"Yeah."

In a swift attack, a lily landed right before her nose.

"F-for you." The boy handed to her, bowing as it could make her accept faster.

She clasped and scented it with an unexpected smile.

"Thank—" She tried.

But he was sprinting, having already crossed half of the distance towards the nearest gravestone.

She didn't have the chance to shout anything; he already fell like a pancake.

Instinctively, her body bolted to join him.
"Are you alright?" She arrived as he laid flat on his belly. "B-boy?" She stammered, not knowing how to call him, her hands wandering around in search for a respectful grasp.

His head straightened, letting her see the tears he held back with a wrinkled nose. "Yes, I-I'm good."

"Pfft—" She didn't resist the pouf but managed to hold the laugh in.

He looked like an Aye-aye, that weird aghast animal from the tropical forests.

"Don't laugh," he mumbled, laying his head flat against the grass again.

Too late since Jade wheezed aloud.

"I'm sorry." She waved her hand before bringing it to her face, hiding the snicker on her lip with it. "Did you hurt yourself?" Was a truthful question, without any ounce of slyness.

A small, drowned, "No," was the only answer.

"Good." Her smile widened.

He finally sat down, revealing the green stains smeared on his clear clothes.
This past immaculate full-suit was ruined.

Jade already pitied the one who'll wash those clothes, perhaps hoping it will be Einar if she brought him back to her castle.

The boy gently picked up three, four flowers, and gave them to her.
"Now, you have a bouquet."
He gathered another five.
"And I have mine!" A shining beam crossed his face. "Do you want to come with me?" He innocently questioned.

How could she refuse this to a happy and cute child? "Of course." Her teeth were probably all showing in a joyful grin.

The boy hastily hurled himself off the ground, darker pink on his cheeks but no sign of fluster anywhere near. "Hurry!" He said.

So Jade did.

She didn't really care who this boy was or where he was dragging her.
His smile was so true it could melt anyone's heart.

They crossed the tombs again. As they passed before the one she slept on, Jade discreetly settled her bouquet there.
May we cross in another life, Lumen Sapur.
She delicately bowed as he strode further, forcing her to speed right after.

He dragged her deeper and deeper between the stones.
Miryo, Lodie, Silvia; names paraded around them as they ran.
But the boy's smile still wasn't erased between all these dead people.

Fresh flowers and freshly dug-up soil were the end of their wanders.

"It's here." The boy simply said.
He crouched, softly laying the bouquet on the loam, nearby the pristine plate where the name of the dead lied, carved for eternity in the marble, for the same amount of time their body will lay here.

A member of his family, perhaps a parent.
A certain Hollis B—

"Young Master!" Struck throughout the air.

The boy jolted, and Jade too.

A thin silhouette was roaming amidst the commemorative rocks standing tall.
Only his head outgrew the tombstones.
His moves were fast, panicked yet oddly specified; all landing perfectly for him to give a quick glance behind the rocks and in every little corner between the tombstones.

The boy gripped her wrist, fear filling each inch of his face. "Follow me!"

"What? What is going on?" She muttered, hauled behind a bush, detailing his petrified face, still identifiable in the green shadows of the surrounding thickets.

His panicked lips managed to whisper. "I don't want him to find me..."

He was so horrified, his terror leaking out to reach her.
It was impossible not to sense this pure primitive fear, to not feel horror growing in her heart at this sight.

But it wasn't impossible to escape.

"Hey," she caught her attention, stopping his eyes from darting back and forth between the ground and that thin silhouette, "can you keep a secret?"

He vigorously bobbed his head, his frightened look urging her to do whatever she could.

She did.

Jade, the panic flooding her throat, her brain, and her stomach, still visualized her home, every corner, every perfect and imperfect wooden slat, every brick a shade clearer than the rest, and the ones that weren't, every room of a unique color, hers particularly.

And in an instant, the boy wasn't there.
She wasn't there either.

●●●

He spun for the fourth time. "W-where are we?" His trembling voice hit her ears and walls.

In the middle of her room, between all the shades of emerald, Jade finally relaxed.

She was back.

Where the wall stood high and straight. Where the curtains and windows existed. Where her inner spoiled child felt at ease. Where her soul was, with her parents, with her siblings, with her servant and friend, and with the new people she'll drag in her life.

She was at home.

Her first reflex was to eye herself in the nearest mirror.

She had her body back. Her vibrant red, waved hair, the dimples on both corners of her mouth, mole on the tight, right above the knee, and blue winding veins under her pale skin were back.
Her small body was sore, but back.
It felt so good.

However, her tired and way to large maid dress was screaming to be changed and washed.

"We are in my room." She puffed her chest out, finally answering him; amused by how destabilized he was—still spinning around.

Astonishment was veiling his face, eyes and mouth flaring out with amazement and a pinch of surprise.

She hid her chuckle.
This boy was officially adopted as her little brother.

"What's your name?" She cocked her head to the side, the question sweet on her tongue as she had made her voice kind.

"Teodore." He blinked thrice as if he had realized his own name just now. "My name is Teodore. How?" He wondered about his new surroundings, but not spinning anymore, probably to not fall down. "How did we get here?"

Answering she was a magician wasn't quite to her liking. She just ignored the question for now.

"I need to change. Could you wait here?" She said, tugging his eyes from the furnitures back to her.

The clear blue-haired boy shook his head, gazing at every inch of the chamber with a colossal attention.

Jade made three steps to join her wardrobe, took one random dress of a pastel green tint, and strutted to the bathroom.

Until he asked. "Are you a magician?"

A shrug and an understanding grin appeared.
Anyone sane would have asked that sooner or later. Just sad it was this early for her taste.

"Kind of." Jade beamed, halting her walk to the bathroom with an easy and heart-felt grin.

Awe, the boy gasped. "Do you want to come to my home?"

But the door flew open before she could realize what the boy said.

"S-small one?"

There, on the wide threshold, her father stood tall, eyes red and full of worry, mane unwashed and messy, short hairs crawling on the jawline, and clothes as simple as untidy.

One glimpse, and Jade came to the conclusion.

She was fucked. (Part 2, readers. It's good to be precise.)