The sky is a vibrant blue. Pure white clouds drift carelessly through the air. Below, the wind brushes through lush green grass and full, heavy trees.
A little girl with long golden hair shimmers under the sun’s rays. She chases after the other children, her laughter echoing.
Her blue dress and white frills flutter wildly against the gales kicked up by the carriage galloping through the sky above.
WHOOSH!
Her crystal-blue eyes sparkle as she looks up at the flying horse. She grips her white sun hat, keeping the woven daisies from flying away.
The other children stop and gaze at the sight. Some even point, their eyes following the horse's path.
Zorn looks down with a smile and gives the children a soft wave.
The little girl smiles and waves back enthusiastically.
“We’re passing through the Children’s Garden,” Donal says. He wears a bright smile. “It’s a vast meadow where flowers never wilt and innocence never fades.”
“It is highly protected by the laws of Draconia, since it resides here in the Lunar Region,” Ángel adds.
Zorn eyes the land below with a warm expression, resting his head on his arms.
“They’re adorable,” he says softly, his voice full of adoration.
“These flowery hills go on for miles.” Donal shades his eyes with his hand.
Khor notices the Halo Pistol pulsing in Zorn’s pocket. Ángel sees it, too.
“Hey, dude. Uh. The gun is glowing again,” Ángel says wearily. He points at the pocket.
Zorn looks down.
“Huh?”
The light pulses through the cloth now. It isn't just a static glow anymore.
“It’s... communicating to me,” Zorn says. He pulls the Halo Pistol out to examine it.
“What’s it sayin’?” Donal asks casually.
Pulse.
Pulse.
The light shimmers with every beat.
“It’s the horse! She says she’s tired. She’s pulling more weight than she is used to.”
“That’s fine.” Donal shrugs. “You say you’re tired, Miss? We can land and stop somewhere.”
“But the trial is tomorrow,” Ángel says, his voice tinged with anxiety.
“We’ll still make it. The Light Horse needs to replenish her energy,” Zorn replies.
“We’ve been flying for over three hours anyway,” Khor adds with a wide yawn.
Ángel looks off to the side, worried. Mossiah wants to comfort him, but he looks away with a sense of guilt.
“Well, I don’t want us all crashing. We’re stopping for the time being,” Zorn says sternly. “Don, guide the horse down, please.”
“Sure thing!” Donal winks.
With a tug on the reins, the horse finally begins her gallop downward.
Her hooves stomp and the open carriage rattles as they touch down on the soft grass.
Zorn hops out and walks up to the horse, petting her neck with a smile.
“MY FLOWERS!” a man shouts.
Zorn looks up, wide-eyed. A tall man in flowy, light blue and white clothes with gold accents stomps forward.
His hair is short, messy, and as pure white as the clouds.
“I worked on those with my wife all day! And you step on them like they're nothing!” His voice cracks with indignation.
“Hey, man, we’re sorry,” Zorn says, raising his hands in surrender. “I didn’t know this was a personal garden.”
“It’s not like you own the Children’s Garden anyway,” Khor says arrogantly.
The man pushes his round glasses up by the gold bridge.
“Excuse you!? I do own the Children’s Garden! I am the one who registered it to Draconia’s government system. These hills, the children, the grass alone. They are all mine and my wife’s! You’re trespassing!”
The group falls silent.
“Damn. How many kids does this man have!?” Khor mumbles skeptically. Donal quickly slaps Khor’s back, keeping his eyes on the white-haired man.
“Agh! Okay. Jeez. Sorry.”
Mossiah looks at the angry man with sudden scrutiny.
He looks familiar. Do I know this man?!
Mossiah's hands shake slightly. That youthful appearance, the slim face, those rounded glasses glinting over gold eyes.
His breath hitches as his mind starts to race.
Without hesitation, impulse gets the best of him.
“Are you a will-o’-the-wisp by any chance!?” Mossiah blurts out.
The man pauses mid-sentence, glancing at Mossiah.
The rest of the group freezes.
“Mossiah, stop,” Ángel whispers, gripping his shoulder.
“No. His face. It’s familiar,” Mossiah’s voice trembles.
“Does it matter!?” the man growls.
“Yes!”
“Honey, who are these people?” a soft, feminine voice cuts through the tension.
A woman with long black hair tied into triangular space buns beside horns that curved back elegantly approaches.
The rest of her hair drapes over her shoulders and curls down her back. Curly bangs frame her face like a portrait.
Her clothes are long and flowy, fluttering gracefully with each careful step. She is a dark contrast to her partner.
Deep purple and black with accents of white paint an intricate picture.
Her eyes are electric purple, shining like amethysts in the sunlight. She grips her husband’s arm for security.
“They were just leaving,” the man says sternly. “They could be a danger to our children.” His tone turns cold.
“No, we’re not! We promise!” Zorn waves his hands. “We just needed to stop because our horse was tired. We will be gone soon!”
Ángel steps forward and gives the couple a soft, formal bow.
“Please forgive us, and please excuse my mentor’s outburst. We mean no harm. I apologize on their behalf for your flowers. I’ll help you replace them if you wish.”
The man and woman gasp. Their eyes widened.
“Are... you the younger prince of the Lunar Region?” the man asks. He quickly looks both ways as if trying to shake off his flustered feeling. “Please! Stop bowing to me. Stand up. Please!” he whispers, waving his hands frantically for Ángel to rise.
Ángel sighs and straightens himself. He towers over both the man and his wife. The couple looks up at him with awe.
“Yes. I am Prince Ángel Sabalza,” he says sheepishly.
I need to work on my social confidence, he thinks. I wish I was as aloof as my brother.
He remembers how unemotional Lionel always was, his deadpan expression making him impossible to read.
“This changes everything. Please. Come inside. I am so sorry for my behavior!” the man says, bowing low.
“No, it’s fine,” Ángel replies.
“Cecelia, please! Go prepare them some tea,” the man says. His hands hug hers, gently directing her back to their cottage.
“Yes, dear,” she says with a warm smile. She gives him a chaste kiss on his cheek and heads over the hill.
Zorn smiles softly at the display. The warmth melts his heart, making him forget his own hardships for just a moment.
The man bows again, his frustration over the flowers completely forgotten.
“Please. You can stay with us until your horse replenishes.”
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