My parents made me take an ice sculpting class when I was little. All the children in my school tried it. People sculpted angels, Shasis, family members and all sorts of things that were dear to them. Being jealous and immature, I remember kicking one of the Shasi statues to knock it over because I was angry a Shasi never chose me. My toes hurt so bad after. I never told my parents.

~Calissa Nylanis

“Tell me again.”

I rub my hands into Seran's cheeks. Often she will tell me the childhood stories, but not always. Sometimes she reveals a poem about me and in my quiet times I'm allowed to be vain. Not in a destructive way. Just some healthy self-interest like everyone else. I revel in what Seran shows me. It's like a puzzle. Keeping my mind sharp helps enliven it as I sort through the bureaucratic knowledge each day. It changes constantly, but Seran's poems stay the same.

My gray eyes glow as a connection is repeated between my Shasi and I. My face shines like Neon and I smile. I read my poem. It's one she's been showing me for quite some time.

You are what you eat

Stumbling in the snow

Not much of a fairy tale

There's is no such thing as luck

Run while you can

The torture ship above

Broken contacts

Running from lost love

You shouldn't be afraid of change

The friendship of a Shasi

A new story begins

You can have it for free

We dream of a fairy tale...

The poem stops and I become frustrated. When I came of age I used to dream of love. You don't have to face the world alone when you find companionship. Over the years, I realized what people called love was just a fair trade. Sometimes you trade beauty for money and a handsome face. Sometimes you get intimacy for arguments and drama. Sometimes you get emotional security for your dignity and voice. There is always a give and take. There is just taking too. No one is naive enough to share everything. That's when the predators come.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

I still dream about having love again. A genuine love that makes the snow seem brighter. The kind that hurts your eyes and is natural like the sun. My parents used to encourage me to find marriage. I saw how they groomed me when I was little. They cared enough for my future, but I never forgot the small part of me that wanted love against their wishes. The real kind. When I got older I realized that reality spoke a different language and it was best to abandon it. I look once more at Seran.

“Tell me again, Seran.”

“No Calissa. Sharing isn't the best way now.”

I'm still not sure what Seran is trying to tell me. She often eyes me when she thinks I'm not paying attention to her. She does her bashful face and I love it. Currently, I'm not sure if this fairy tale is about me or someone else. I do know how it will impact me. That's what the Mastals are after though. They want to know too. They want to understand the fairy tales. You can't change the poem, but you can control it's interpretation. Is it like prophecy? I don't think so. I do think the dots connect from time to time. I hold my arms close to me. I rub my arms gently. It's colder than usual in my bedroom.

There's a snowflake I have made of crystal... Slam! I jump.

One of my guards has busted open my door. He has some girl by the scruff of her jacket and he looks aggravated. “I caught this one snooping around. A spy!”

I stare into the dark blues eyes of woman. She looks about twenty-two, but I've never been lucky at guessing ages.

“Who are you?” I demand.

“I'm Lenoa. Mind if my friend joins me? He's paying for this too.”

“You have friends?” exhales my guard.

Lenoa struggles as my guard releases his knife from under her chin. He tosses her aside, but I remain calm. I wait and see how Seran reacts. She didn't seem to mind the newcomer. That meant something and so my panic quickly fades. Shasis have a vibrant sixth sense. It's raw and powerful with a touch of other-worldly wisdom.

“It's ok. She's no threat.” I look at Lenoa suspiciously. “Either that or she's good at hiding things.”

“I am pretty good at hiding things,” smiles Lenoa sarcastically.

“That's why I'm good at hiding my stupid Shasi friend Kaloas and being a coward hiding now!”

Lenoa's jumbled shout became louder as it progressed, long enough for everyone to hear her. I understood what she was trying to say in her frustration. Sometimes I wonder if people fear us like they do the Mastals. Everyone is always threatened with death on this planet. It gets results, but no one needs the cruelty. That's what the Mastals brought onto our planet. It was already here, but they brought the saturation.

“You keep saying that to scare me. I'm not afraid. You have no Shasi,” scolds my guard.

My guard didn't like what Lenoa had to say. Seran wasn't afraid and he took that as a sign that she was lying. Seran would have been afraid if there was a threatening Shasi with Lenoa. My guard was wrong. I knew better. I don't stay in my bedroom all day, if that's what you think. Don't get the wrong image. I do have life experience as well. My experiences have taught me otherwise. This is just what you get to see for now. I don't take my clothes off for everyone.

“Leave us be. There should be three of them,” I add

“Three?” questions my guard.

Sometimes you know things that even the best of the Shasis could never tell you. This wasn't the case. Seran had picked up on two scents. People only notice what they want to. They do the same thing when they read poems. There's spacing and much more to it than that. Like chimes. No one sees the wind or bothers to listen to it in the background. The metal is much too loud.

“I doubt she's a Mastal spy,” I say.

“Find the other two. Thieves don't belong here and will be punished severely,” I continue.

My guard nods. He leaves and gives Lenoa one last look. She tries not to make eye contact with him and calms herself down. I think she was happy to be in a warmer room. She just wanted to be left alone and enjoy it for what it was. It was warm enough that you didn't need a coat and that was out of her norm.