The Spirit of Jade (1)

It was one of the last days of summer, and the sun was sitting flush to the horizon, bringing in another warm, clear day to Sierra Kingdom. Clara was to be seen huddled at the back of the palace kitchen near the garden. Her hands were scalded and splotchy and tender to the bone.

Since this early morning—when she sneaked in the swarm of buzzing servants—she’d done little more than wash an endless pile of dishes. She worked on scrubbing plates and bowls and gravy boats and whole armies of silverware.

The sheer amount of work was astonishing. And Clara didn’t mind the bins of food-caked plates arriving. For someone who was putting on a hard amount of tasks, she was still gleeful. Anyone could see it with the way she hummed a merry tune as her hands and maid's uniform were soaked in bubbles.

Unlike the standard eighteen-year-old girl, Princess Clarabelle Zolene had no social life. The Earthal Princess was kept behind the curtains. For them, she was too precious to be left alone with untrustworthy people. She was always told that trust was valuable and she shouldn’t give it to anyone so quickly.

Sighing, she allowed the vision of the bustling towns outside the castle to paint a picture in her mind. She imagined the happy faces of their kingdom’s subjects, peaceful and content with their lives.

For royalties, it was essential to build a connection with their people, something she wasn’t allowed to do. The king and queen feared those who desired the gifted power their daughter possessed—an ability above all other elements, granted by the Guardian Deity herself—and only one individual in every century was chosen to be the bearer. For them, the only place that could give her protection was this castle. But all Clara could think were all those missed chances of adventure and freedom.

Her family had always been close to her heart, but it didn’t mean their relationship was easy. Clara wanted to live a life of her own while they wanted her to follow the handbook of being an obedient daughter.

And when she wanted to escape her bitter reality, she’d strip off her lascivious clothing to pretend as a maid to experience being normal. In that way, she could be near other servants. She would find herself amused with their latest gossip. However, to make that happen, she had to put her power at work. A change to her hair color and an illusion of a different face would be enough to fool them.

Now, Clara’s hair was the color of brown earth, replacing her lustrous vanilla hair. Her once silver eyes became the hue of the night sky. And the face she begrudgingly copied was of the girl who she knocked out, tied, and gagged behind her closet doors.

By tonight, everyone at the castle was buzzing about the party. Her party. But to Clara, it only meant her actions were restricted. She stared down at the tin tub of scuzzy water, full of loathing.

A light tug on her dress pulled her attention from the dishes. Peering down, a small smile curved her lips at the sight of another dear friend. A cute and tiny four-legged creature looked up at her with his innocent beady eyes. The fur that surrounded his eyes was spotted in a different shade of purple. Two feathery wings were sticking on either of his sides, and two baby spiral horns were protruding on his head. If there could be a creature who could see through her power’s illusion, that would be the anima—the cursed creatures.

Clara crouched down, and Duke hopped around her; his black eyes glittered in excitement.

“Needy for a little attention, are we not?” Clara cooed at the wild Giloo she kept as a pet without her parents’ knowledge. She let out a soft giggle as she scratched his chin, to which he gladly approved. “Tell me, my little Duke. What is it that you want to tell?”

She searched for their link at the back of her mind to open a telepathic communication and grant him a mental voice. It was one of the unique abilities of earth-wielders like her. They could communicate with the land creatures they harbored.

‘Princess, come! Jade wanted to talk to you.’

Duke ran a few steps ahead, and when he looked back, he let out an impatient bark, urging Clara to follow. Her tiny friend grew impatient as he crossed their little distance to bite her dress’ skirt, tugging her forward.

“Fine, fine. I’ll come with you.” Then Duke bounded across the grass as Clara jogged after him.

The two went down the trail of the garden stone path. The sides of the trail were lined with decoratively trimmed topiary plants, maintained in their perfect curved shapes. Perennial shrubs were growing, all with blooming flowers of white and yellow. The garden was filled with bushes, vines jeweled with flowers, and small plants. It was like a canvas of deep blue-indigo bells, raining pink and purple petals, oranges and reds, and splashes of bright yellows, a reminder of the early morning sun after a silent night.

Butterflies fluttered and chased each other around as one perched on Clara’s nose, making her giggle before it joined the others to fly. Duke seemed to be enjoying himself as he chased and scared the butterflies away.

From here, they could spot the far edge of the garden where a profuse number of fruit-bearing trees were planted. Lively fruit pickers—each carrying a harvest basket—laughed and talked probably in each other’s jokes.

‘Princess, hurry! Jade will be mad if we do not come as soon as she expects us,’ Duke said in their link as he scampered behind the bright glowing trees.

“Duke, Jade will not do anything. She is one hot-headed dragon, but we will be fine.” Clara followed behind the trees and saw him above the moss-covered trapdoor, scratching it with his paws.

It was such an odd entrance hidden behind plain sight. The creaking sound of the rusty old hinges hung in the air. After checking that no one had seen them sneaking in an ancient secret passage to the dungeons, Duke and Clara descended in uncomfortable darkness.

After too many twists and turns on the seemingly endless stone stairs, they were at the entry of the dungeons. An unwelcoming cold greeted and blew past them. It did not smell pleasant.

On either side of the passageway were wooden cell doors, all padlocked. They didn’t appear to be used for about a century, and most brass metals had already eroded. The rotten wooden doors left a damp, moldy aroma that made it hard to breathe. It was deadly silent.

They still had to descend one more flight of stone steps past the dungeon, ending in the opening of a giant cave. As they neared the bottom of the steps, there was low breathing. The vibration bounced off against the cave wall. The temperature slowly rose, and a flickering green light illuminated at the far corner.

Clara stood unmoving at the bottom of the stairs. She blinked a few times to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.