Not All Who Fly Are free
1175 Words
Liora
Moonlight shimmered like falling stardust over the glassy floor of an ethereal ballroom suspended among the stars. Petals—tulip petals—drifted slowly from above, glowing faintly with threads of magic. The fae court stood in a ring of hushed awe, their wings still, their gazes lifted toward the center.
Barefoot beneath a canopy of silver light, my heart echoed in my chest.
A gown of living tulip silk clung to me—petals layered in shades of pearl and blush, each one trembling softly with breath. The fabric shimmered as if spun from morning dew and memory, glowing gently with every step.
And then he was there.
Noctis.
But not as the world knew him—cold and distant, veiled in shadow.
Here, he was radiant.
Dressed in deep velvet the color of midnight wine, with a collar embroidered in silver and a cloak lined in royal black, he looked every bit like a king in exile, come home. His hair fell just above his eyes, wind-tossed and soft, and his Crimson gaze remained fixed.
He extended his hand. Without hesitation, mine found his.
Music swelled from nowhere and everywhere. We danced—not with steps, but with aching familiarity, our bodies moving like starlight caught in gravity, drawn closer, closer still.
The court watched in reverent silence as we turned and turned, my tulip-petal skirt whispering around his boots.
Our foreheads touched.
His breath caught.
And then—just before our lips could meet—his weight collapsed into my arms.
"Noctis!" The cry tore from my throat as I stumbled backward.
But what I held was no longer the prince of my dreams.
His once-glowing skin had gone pale and sickly, veined in inky black tendrils that spidered across his cheeks, down his throat. His lips were blue. His body convulsed. And those eyes—those beloved, haunted eyes—looked up not with love, but agony.
A voice—not his—rang through the ballroom, deep and accusatory, echoing like thunder through crystal halls:
"Why did you leave me?"
Hands shaking, I tried to pour light into him, to heal him with magic, but the tulip gown withered—the petals browned, curled, and fell from my shoulders one by one.
"Why did you leave me?"
The voice struck again, louder now. The courtiers’ eyes turned cold. Their wings folded like funeral shrouds.
Noctis’s body lay limp in my arms, his expression frozen in betrayal.
Then he whispered—not aloud, but into my soul:
"I waited. I believed in you."
"Noctis!" The word tore from my lips as the vision shattered like glass.
I woke with a start, breath shallow, the dream still clinging like mist. The sky outside the window blushed with early light—soft gold and pale rose peeking over the treetops. Another sleepless night. Another ache I could not soothe.
Outside, dawn stirred. Duty and desperation warred within. A glimpse of him—was it worth everything?
Flight had always brought joy. But our word binds us. A vow broken carries a curse, cast by the first Fairy Queen. To break it is to lose your wings—sometimes for days, sometimes for years. If the breach is severe enough… a lifetime.
More than once, I had considered it. Renouncing my title. Defying my mother’s command. Stepping back into the Moon Kingdom just to find him. Just to see him one last time.
The reflection in the mirror in front of the bed showed only my cowardice. Surely, he would’ve done it for me.
I sank to the floor and wept—softly, bitterly—until the tears were utterly spent.
The marigold petal soup my mother had prepared sat untouched. Though brewed to brighten the spirit, it failed to lift mine. The ache lingered, unrelenting.
Hoping work might quiet the storm, I slipped from the castle and flew to my spa.
The soft lap of water echoed through the hollowed tree as morning light filtered through cascading glass walls. Healing runes pulsed gently near the doorway, and the scent of eucalyptus and moon lilies filled the air. Once, this place had brought joy—its enchanted pools, its curated silence, the plants that bloomed only to my touch.
Now, I merely moved through it.
A bundle of herbs was just placed near the basin when a flutter of wings signaled the arrival of my sisters.
“Liora,” Irisel called, stepping inside in her embroidered tunic of honey-gold. Myrelle followed, her gown trailing silver dust in her wake.
No greeting passed my lips. “If you’re here about the banquet, the answer is no.”
Myrelle raised a brow. “How’d you know?”
“You only show up this early when Mother sends you.”
Irisel huffed. “You haven’t been yourself in months. You barely sleep. You barely eat. At least come tonight. It might lift your spirits.”
“There’s no point,” I murmured, kneeling to stir the waters. “You both know who I want. Who I still dream about.”
Myrelle leaned in. “Well then, you may want to know… the Moon Kingdom has sent a candidate.”
Wings fluttered.
Myrelle smiled. “And I doubt that your good friend Seryna would send just anyone.”
Breath caught.
A sudden resolve stirred. “I need to go.”
“To the banquet?” Irisel asked hopefully.
“No,” came the answer, already halfway to the exit. “To Blossomreach.”
Hope, foolish and fluttering, tugged at my chest. If it was him… if there was even a chance, I had to be ready. If he’s truly coming, I won’t face him looking like a ghost of who I was.
Blossomreach – Land of Eternal Spring
The fields bloomed with colors no human eye could name. Eternal dawn stretched across the skies in soft pinks and golds, and I soared through it like a hummingbird, hands brushing petals with care. Rose clusters blurred past. Sunflowers bowed aside.
And then—a tulip. Blush pink fading to ivory, just like the one in my dreams.
Magic stirred. With a flick of the wrist and a whispered spell, the tulip unfurled into fabric, cascading like water. A gown spun itself into being—form-fitting bodice, a skirt that hugged curves before flaring below the knees. The fabric shimmered like morning mist.
Myrelle and Irisel landed nearby, breathless.
“Is that… for the banquet?” Irisel asked.
“It’s for me,” I said softly. “But maybe… also for him.”
The sisters exchanged a glance.
“Make us something too?” Myrelle said. "Please."
A small smile bloomed. “Only if you help me gather lavender thread.”
Laughter rang through the valley like wind chimes—wild, free, and full of something long lost: hope.
Myrelle was right. If Seryna had sent a candidate, she wouldn’t choose just anyone. And I felt it in my heart—soon, I would be with him once more.
- Writer
