Shortly after the King was crowned, found was wonderful gem! Oh precious gem of mine! Glistening and beautiful, and very, very secret.

The King hid their gem away in a secret room in the castle. Not a soul could hear the gem sing and dance in its very hidden space. It was precious. Very precious.

The gem loved the King as the King loved the gem. The gem would listen to the King’s troubles, day after day and night after night. The gem would sing and dance to make the King happy. But not a soul could hear.

Every night, the King would bring the gem a rose, and every night, the gem would think of the garden it came from. It must be a place flooded in red, covering miles and miles of landscapes. A place far off and mysterious. A place the gem wanted to go.

The gem never wanted to leave the King, however, but oh how the gem wanted to be free! To feel the thorns on every rose of the wonderfully splendid garden…but alas, it was not possible. The gem wasn't to leave the room and expose the truth. The gem needed to keep the King happy and remain very, very secret.

One day, the King was made to travel outside of their castle. Outside of their own walls, and outside of their own kingdom, into lands the gem didn't know of. The King promised the gem that when they arrived back, all would be possible. The gem would be allowed to exit its room and touch every rose in the infinite garden the gem had dreamed of.

A week had passed. The gem sat, awaiting the thorns and the King. The gem awaited a smiling face of scars. The gem waited. The gem waited months. The gem waited…years. The gem waited.

From the hidden room, none could tell a hair out of place. The room was always unused and private. Oh, but the gem was out of place. But nobody could hear the gem sing or dance. Not even scream nor cry. To the outside world, there was no gem, and to the gem, there was no outside world.

The gem did not hear of the passing of the King until the gem left the room itself one day. The gem longed to find the King, hoping they were lost in the garden of roses. To the gem's surprise, the garden it had imagined and loved so dearly, was right below the tower it was being kept in, not in some mysterious location, far, far away. Each and every flower in the garden was wilted and rotten to the stem, uncared for for weeks, months, and years.

The hidden secret was no longer a secret, but a dream. A forgotten memory of a dead King. Oh, but the gem did not forget. Here, in this room…

do you remember being born?