3

The afternoon was serene, and Amber wasn't busy with any chores.

She stood quietly in the parlor downstairs, admiring the one portrait that never failed to give her butterflies—the prince.

The painting perfectly captured his amber-gold eyes. She wondered what his sculpture would look like. It would be perfect too, depending on the artist—someone like her mother, for instance. But her mother had stopped sculpting ever since her father went missing.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft squeak at the main door. She turned just in time to see it swinging open. Isis stepped inside gracefully, letting herself in.

Amber silently admired her. Isis was always elegant. With her beauty, it was hard to imagine how stern she could be. She looked like she couldn't hurt a fly, but Amber doubted that very much.

She shook off her thoughts and focused on her manners—she had been raised well.

"You're a good heart," her mother would always say.

Amber greeted Isis with a smile and turned to eye another portrait—a grand castle she recognized, just like every Upland citizen did. She pretended not to notice how Isis ignored her greeting. No returned smile. No word.

She didn't let it show, though the slight stung. She wasn't prepared to confront Isis. That would only backfire. She would be accused of being disrespectful—and she wasn't.

"You're a good heart," her mother would say again in her mind.

Isis moved closer, and Amber stepped aside politely to give her room. Isis studied the portrait too, and Amber caught a flicker of longing on her face. She wondered why, but she didn't have to wonder for long.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Isis said, gesturing to the painting. "The King's palace. A grand place... and a handsome prince. Charming, full of poise and presence, just like his father."

Amber nodded in agreement. She hadn't met him personally, but she'd heard stories. He was everything she hoped to be when she gained wealth—compassionate, generous, a beacon of hope for the downtrodden.

"My dream," Isis added, "is for my Rhea to marry Arnold and live there someday. It's my daughter's dream too. She's already eighteen, legal enough."

Amber's heart skipped a beat. Arnold—that was the prince's name.

And wait a minute, Rhea was already eighteen? She thought they were age mates. Well, they were almost age mates. They were only a year apart.

But then, so this was Isis's dream? The portraits of Upland royalty here meant more than just Upland patriotism? Isis and her daughter Rhea shared this ambition? Of course Rhea would also want the prince.

Everyone wanted the prince. Even she herself, if she would admit it. Her face colored with embarrassment and her hands flew to her cheeks as if to hide it.

But what chance did she have? Prince Arnold might choose a bride before she even turned eighteen. And she was just a maid. What could ever bring them together? Even if they did cross paths, he wouldn't give her a second glance. She wasn't fancy. Rhea had all the fancy dresses.

Still, Amber didn't know what to make of Isis's dream—except that everyone had the right to one.

"Do you have any dreams, Amber?" Isis asked, turning her sharp gaze on her.

Amber's face brightened at the thought of her greatest wish.

"One day," she said, eyes soft with hope, "I'll become very wealthy and help the poor."

She wasn't ready for Isis's reaction—the stunned look first, then the sudden, cruel burst of laughter that followed. It dimmed the light in Amber's face instantly.

"You want to save the world?" Isis mocked as she ascended the stairs. "Keep dreaming."

Amber stood there, her heart sinking like a stone. Her dream... was it laughable? Was it hopeless? She thought it was noble—worth encouraging. What was so funny about wanting to help?

With effort, she pushed back the negativity Isis had stirred. Her mother had warned her—Not everyone will believe in your dream. That's why it's yours. Only she was responsible for fighting to make it real.

Miriam always said, Dreaming is free. So why let anyone stop you?

Clinging to her mother's wisdom, Amber let go of Isis's mockery. She chose to believe in the positive energy her mother had planted in her heart. But even then, it felt like a war—hope battling discouragement.

That night, as she sat before her dresser, gazing at her parents' portrait, the cruel laughter still echoed in her mind. It clashed painfully with the peace her parents' smiles offered.

"My dream may sound foolish," she whispered to them, "but at least you believe in me, Mother. Just like Father would've."

She thought briefly of her father. She could barely remember him—just a kind-faced man who once carried her.

Miriam had told her that when she was five, he'd gone out to get sculpting materials, got caught in a storm, and drowned in the river. His body was never found.

That was when Miriam stopped sculpting. Once hailed as the best in Upland, she had crafted the handsome statue of the man on their porch—said to be an exact likeness of Amber's father. It was her last piece.

Even the King had once requested a sculpture from her, but she declined in her grief. And though the King had given her time, she never returned to it.

"Don't worry, Mother," Amber said softly to the portrait. "One day you'll be happy again... and maybe you'll sculpt again. Father would want that."

As for herself, Amber vowed to give her all—to work hard, to keep the dream alive. That resolve stayed with her the next morning as she headed to the waterfront to do the dishes.

The sky was clear and blue. Amber carried a basin to the edge of the river. Beside her were another basin, a basket of dirty dishes, a bottle of liquid soap, and a tray with a sponge inside a small jar.

She fetched water, poured some into the second basin, and added soap. Bubbles rose as she stirred. Then, kneeling, she dipped the sponge, picked up a cup, and scrubbed it quickly. Rinsed. Repeated.

Her hunger pushed her on. She was a laborer, and her wages weren't much—but they helped her mother.

Suddenly, she noticed something strange. A spot in the lake near the shore began to twist.

"What's happening with you?" she murmured, pausing, watching the phenomenon intently. But the twirling ceased and the waters became calm again. She breathed a sigh of relief and realized she hadn't known how tense she had been getting. She looked down at the dirty dishes, ready to continue her work, when a loud splash from the river made her jump.

Looking up in time, she saw a figure spring out of the water like a dolphin — but this was no ordinary creature. The glint of sunlight caught scales that shimmered like molten gold. It was a mermaid.

She dove back in just as swiftly, her movement elegant and fluid like silk on water. Amber's jaw dropped in shock, her hands still soaked with soap, trembling slightly. Then the water twirled again, more deliberately this time, and the mermaid rose from its depths with a graceful spin, as if the river itself had called her up.

She was stunning — otherworldly. Her long hair flowed behind her in glossy waves, a cascade of silver-blonde strands streaked with aquamarine. Her skin had the gleam of polished pearl, her eyes an intense ocean-blue that seemed to hold a language of their own. High cheekbones and full lips gave her an air of noble beauty. But it was her tail — long, glistening, and gold like hammered sunlight — that caught the light and made Amber gasp aloud. Tiny diamonds of water trickled off the fins as she hovered above the surface, staring silently at Amber with a calm, unreadable expression.

Amber remained rooted, transfixed, caught in a timeless gaze.

Then, as quickly as she had come, the mermaid spun once and dove back into the river. Her golden tail flicked in the air one last time before disappearing beneath the surface, leaving behind nothing but ripples and a stunned, wide-eyed girl.

Amber placed a hand over her mouth to stifle the scream rising in her throat. Her heart thudded. She had no idea why she had seen what she saw — only that it was real. It was unforgettable. And she knew it would be hard to make anyone believe her.

As the ripples faded, Amber's heart pounded with a strange mix of fear and wonder. Was this a sign? A secret gift from the river that had once taken her father? Or a glimpse of something more—something just for her, the girl who dared to dream beyond her means?

After a moment's pause, she decided... she'd try telling one person about the strange magical sighting. She had to understand it.