Crisanta Knight: Midnight Law

I am not really sure how to be the narrator of this story. I suppose you will forgive me for that. Your narrator thus far has been my best friend Crisanta Knight. How am I to claim mastery of such an important mantle on my first attempt when even a great, experienced hero like her does not typically seem to know what she is doing? That is not a criticism by the way. It has been my observation that most heroes and main characters do not fully know what they are doing. You prepare, you strategize, you make courageous, wise decisions, but in the end finding your way often turns out to be a lot of guesswork. Narrators have to accept that, and optimistically hope for the best whilst believing a simple truth: Planning is not what makes a hero; staying strong and fighting on in the face of plans going up in smoke—that is when you have something. As the old saying goes, “If you want to make the Author laugh, make a plan.” A bit of backstory for those unfamiliar with the way our realm of Book is governed: The Author—our mystical prophet—chooses the people destined to be main characters in their own stories. This begins with the Author creating a protagonist book. Later, the Author’s first entry in that book is a prophecy that notates the gist of the main character’s impending fairytale fate. If you are selected as a protagonist you attend one of two private schools: Lady Agnue’s School for Princesses & Other Female Protagonists or Lord Channing’s School for Princes & Other Young Heroes. All royal-born children are supposed to be chosen as main characters, so as the daughter of Snow White I began attending Lady Agnue’s at the age of ten—prior to receiving my prophecy, but under the assumption that I had a protagonist book and one day my prophecy would appear. I always figured it would foretell a typical princess destiny that involved ruling my parents’ kingdom, marrying a handsome prince, and maybe (if my mother’s luck is hereditary) getting stuck in a glass box courtesy of an evil witch. That was the plan. Goodness gracious did that design go up in smoke. It started last fall when my closest friends—Crisa (daughter of Cinderella) and Blue (younger sister of Little Red Riding Hood)—received their prophecies and were, to put it mildly, not pleased. We ended up embarking on a harrowing quest to find the Author and convince her to let us write our own fates. Although I did not have a prophecy at the time, and action-adventure was not an inherent part of my essence, I went along for this quest. My heart compelled me to because, despite my natural good behavior and adherence to traditional princess standards, I had bigger dreams past monarchy and marriage. Life was never the same after that. Through our adventure we learned that the Author was a former Fairy Godmother named Liza Lenore afflicted by a magical disorder known as Pure Magic Disease. She did not actually have control over our fates. Seeing the future of important players in our realm, as well as other worlds, through dreams was a side effect of her condition. Envisioning their prophecies was an extremely developed side effect. A long time ago our higher-ups decided to lie about Liza’s identity and force her to create protagonist books for all the people she dreamed about. It was their recipe for keeping people in line—separating citizens into classes and archetypes that are more easily controlled. A fine plan in regards to maintaining order in the short-term, but I suppose the higher-ups never realized the long-term consequence of divvying up people into “special” and “non-special” categories. We are supposed to be able to define how the world views us for ourselves. Take away that right and in time people will fight back. Hence the commons rebellion that has torn up Book for many months and we are only now trying to resolve peacefully—an arduous endeavor if I ever experienced one. The commons were not happy with how the higher-ups had treated them. I could relate to that discontent in a way. The higher-ups had lied to me too. As part of our Author discovery, my friends and I learned that not all royal children are important enough for Liza to dream about. Our realm’s higher-ups got into the habit of forging protagonist books for princes and princesses Liza had not foreseen fates for, thus permitting the royals to attend protagonist school under the guise that they are meant to be main characters like everyone else in attendance. I was one of those royals. Last year I learned that, unlike my friends, I did not have a real protagonist book. Mine had been forged so I could claim a spot at Lady Agnue’s that I did not deserve. Not being identified as a key player in my realm like my friends, and realizing my life until that moment had been a lie, was a crushing blow. It made me want to do library research to unearth as many unladylike curse words as possible. It also triggered an embarrassing emotional typhoon of resentment, anger, and envy for several months. Thankfully, I got over that. Part of this was time, support from others, and self-reflection. Additionally, it helped to put my problems in perspective. Crisa had a protagonist book and prophecy that painted a target on her back. What business did I have feeling sorry for myself for not being identified by the Author as a main character when that very thing is what caused Crisa’s life to become an unending carousel of chaos. In the old days my bold, complicated best friend courted trouble as naturally as most princes courted princesses. Nowadays that trouble had evolved into death and destruction because the Author’s prophecy detailed that she would be the key force responsible for either stopping or helping our realm’s antagonists. The villains in our realm had been plotting to break out of their sealed off kingdom of Alderon and overthrow the protagonist regime for some time. Thus, Crisa became very high on their priorities list and the normal lives of everyone in our tightknit group shifted as a result. That included Crisa, Blue, and me alongside our two closest friends at Lord Channing’s—Jason (younger brother to Jack of Jack & the Beanstalk) and Daniel (a common protagonist with no ties to fairytales past). Since the revelation of Crisa’s prophecy we had been involved in one perilous story arc after another in our efforts to keep the antagonists from success. This was a difficult struggle; our enemies were tenacious, malevolent, and clever. And thanks to dark creatures called “Shadows,” several of them were able to pass through the magical In and Out Spell barrier that was supposed to keep them trapped in Alderon. We had confronted quite a few foes since this clash began, the worst of these terrible characters, of course, being Arian. He had ruthlessly gone after Crisa since our saga started and was typically at the helm of every main conflict we faced, under orders of the antagonist queen, Nadia. Any quest we went on, we were bound to run into him at some point. Our latest adventure had split our newly expanded team of friends in two. While several of us remained in Book to try and broker peace between the commons and the higher-ups, others (Crisa, Blue, Jason, and Daniel included) had gone to Dreamland to save a pair of important royal protagonists under a horrendous sleeping curse. Unlike other magical realms, Dreamland existed in a separate dimension, which meant odd time differences and accessing it was tricky. My friends could only enter or exit Dreamland during a full moon. So, although to them it may have felt like a few hours since they had gone, to us in Book it had been over three weeks. I anxiously awaited their return with each passing night. In the meantime, I tried to concentrate on the task at hand: broker peace and be the best version of myself without losing myself in the process. I felt good about the work I was doing in Book and how much I had grown personally. Still, the road to change was hard, long, and merciless. Nowadays I often stood my ground in the face of conflict, made braver choices, and had accepted that we lived in a world fundamentally characterized by change. Yet, I lived with the fear that “being something more” was an aspiration limited by the idea that how much “more” you could be varied from person to person. What if I did not have it in me to change enough, or change in ways that allowed me to keep up with my heroic friends? Things in the last nine months had been chaotic and unforgiving. Everything was mad these days and I was expected to move according to the world’s schedule, not my own—bend constantly without breaking, when no one had ever taught me how to do that while staying true to myself. It was all a frustrating, scary work in progress. Though I suppose every person’s story is like that to some degree. Life is not a balanced concept and stories are predicated in the understanding that obstacles will come. They always do. It is up to us to find a way to be true to ourselves while navigating through them. I needed to do something and be someone that mattered in a world that was always pushing me toward losing the true SJ Kaplan. Making plans may have been comically optimistic, but I did plan on succeeding here. I had to. My friends were counting on me, my realm was counting on me, and I was counting on me. I was never a religious person, but answering to the higher power of one’s self seemed like a cause worth dedicating a life to. So that is what I would do. I wanted to be proud of myself, do right by myself, and use every part of myself to foster good. This was my story as much as anyone else’s. I was going to honor that and be proactive accordingly. With that in mind, I enter this story with the best segue I can think of: Once upon a time in a land far, far away there was a princess whose prince never came, whose friends were all wildcards, and who was desperately trying to save the world one strategic choice at a time . . .