The princess dream

The Eighteenth Dawn

It's the weekend. Who doesn't love weekends? No school, no homework and, most importantly, no socializing, which I hate the most.

Mom has plans for this weekend. Of course, she would have. We have never spent time together, not since dad left us when I was ten. Mom has been silent since then. She never spent time at home. Even though I was not aware of the cruel world back then, the only thing that I remember was the muffled cries I had to endure when those strange hands explored my body in ways which I cannot explain. I used to ask myself that if she knew what I was going through every day, would she leave me alone at home or was she the one who gave him access to home?

Grandfather and Grandmother are just like phone friends to me. They call every day, but I have never seen them in person. But this time something is different. They are coming next week as it's my eighteenth birthday. Mom is making a great deal of it. I wasn't sure whether it was because of my birthday or, finally, grandad and granmom were coming home. Well, it's going to be just another day for me, since nothing is going to change after the weekend, I'm going to do the same. Neither does my life change nor does the place I live in.

The morning of Jane’s eighteenth birthday arrived wrapped in mist and the soft rustle of rain against the roof. Their cottage, tucked between crooked pines at the edge of a quiet lake, smelled faintly of smoke and wet earth. Her mother hummed an old tune as she stirred porridge, though her eyes seemed distant, as if the melody itself carried memories she dared not touch.

Jane sat by the window, tracing raindrops with her finger, thinking how birthdays meant little when every day looked the same, small meals, patched clothes, and a world no larger than the surrounding hills. Still, she smiled. Her mother’s love had always made their poverty feel bearable.

Then came the knock deep, deliberate, and nothing like the shy taps of the neighbors. Her mother froze, the wooden spoon slipping from her hand. For a heartbeat, the cottage held its breath. When she finally opened the door, the mist outside parted to reveal two figures she had never seen before.

An elderly woman stood tall and regal, wrapped in a cloak that shimmered like moonlit silver. Beside her, a man whose gaze held both kindness and command rested his hands on a carved staff. Rain slid from their cloaks untouched, as though the world itself refused to touch them.

Her mother’s voice trembled. “Mother… Father…”

Jane blinked. Grandparents?

“Jane,” the old woman said softly, her voice carrying a weight that stirred something deep within. “You have your mother’s eyes. The same light. The same fire.”

Her mother stepped back, panic flashing across her face. “I know you came to take her even though I'm happy you are here. Tell me I'm wrong about the intention behind your arrival. You can’t take her. She’s safe here.”

The man shook his head. “Safe?” His gaze swept the humble room. “Hidden, perhaps. But not safe. The kingdom has waited long enough.”

Jane’s heart stumbled. “Kingdom?”

Her grandmother’s silver eyes softened. “The Silent Kingdom, your kingdom. You are its queen, Jane. Born to the line of guardians who kept the land alive. When your mother fled, the silence deepened. The rivers dulled. The skies dimmed. The people wait for the heir who never came.”

Jane looked to her mother, desperate for denial, for reason. But tears had already gathered in her mother’s eyes.

“I ran,” her mother whispered. “I loved a man of the ordinary world, your father. I thought I could escape what the crown demanded. I wanted you to grow free, not bound by duty.”

“But the silence hasn’t lifted,” her grandmother said. “Only Jane can wake it.”

Outside, the mist began to shimmer, revealing faint outlines of towers beyond the trees, tall, silver, and half-dreaming, like memories returning to life. Jane felt something stir in her chest, not fear, but recognition.

She stepped into the rain, her feet sinking into the earth that seemed to hum beneath her. The cottage behind her suddenly felt too small, the sky too near.

“Queen?” she whispered.

Her grandmother smiled gently. “Yes, my child. The Silent Kingdom speaks again because it remembers you.”

And as the clouds parted, Jane felt the first echo of her true name awaken in the wind.

Her grandmother insisted they stay for breakfast. Soon, the small kitchen filled with laughter and the smell of fresh bread, butter melting over warm loaves. Her grandfather, surprisingly gentle despite his regal presence, told stories about a land beyond the mists, the Silent Kingdom, where rivers glowed under moonlight and trees whispered the names of those they missed.

Jane listened wide-eyed, half believing, half dreaming. For once, the air didn’t feel heavy with secrets; it felt alive.

Then her grandmother produced a small silver box from her cloak. Inside was a delicate pendant a crescent moon cradling a tiny sapphire that glowed faintly when touched.

“For you, child,” she said. “A gift for the queen you are meant to become.”

Jane’s mother watched quietly, her eyes misted, but her lips curved into the softest smile Jane had seen in years.

“Eat more, Mother,” she said playfully, passing her bread. “You used to scold me for skipping breakfast, remember?”

Her grandmother laughed, a warm, ringing sound that filled the cottage like sunlight. Her grandfather chuckled too, shaking his head. “And you used to run from your lessons,” he teased.

For a moment, the years between them disappeared. Jane sat between them all, watching her mother’s guarded heart soften in the company of her parents. It was as if some invisible wound was beginning to heal.

That evening, they lit a small fire outside and her grandfather conjured faint sparks of light that danced like fireflies. Jane gasped, clapping in delight. Her grandmother smiled knowingly. “Magic recognizes its own,” she said.

And as the night deepened, Jane realized this was the first time she had ever felt truly celebrated. Not as a poor girl in a forgotten village but as someone who belonged to something larger, something ancient.

The Silent Kingdom might still be a mystery, but for that one night, Jane’s world no longer felt silent.