The Queen of the West, Legatia, was walking in the gardens of the royal palace of the Tot family during her evening stroll. As she passed by the castle walls, covered with ivy and moss at their base, the queen raised her head, observing the pink clouds bathed in the cold golden glow of the morning sun. She immersed herself in a sea of sensations: the refreshing breeze on her face, the damp grass moistening the hem of her dress and her shoes, the sound of palm trees swaying in the wind accompanied by the singing of birds. Despite this symphony of natural perfection, the queen's face expressed immense apathy.
"How strange," the queen said to herself, for she could recognize that the scene nature presented to her was undoubtedly beautiful, and many in her court, especially her mother, proclaimed it as the best view the Western Kingdom could offer. With extensive and lush flora tended by the best gardeners, the courtyard surrounding the castle occupied four hectares of fertile land fit only to be owned by kings.
"And yet, I feel nothing," she lamented.
She found herself in deep meditation on the events of recent days and her emotional response to everything that had happened.
"Where was the confidence with which I addressed my subjects? Where was the flame of anger and power with which I kept the irrational demands of the councilors and nobles in check? Where was the coldness with which I directed the general of my army to stop questioning me? Where were my emotions hiding?" She criticized herself in this sea of questioning.
"Maybe I'm just tired," she answered herself.
Recalling all those events, she couldn't help but notice the lack of desire mixed with a hint of irritation. But the truth that crawled from the deepest part of her mind was that all of that...
"Is meaningless to me," declared the queen, her voice choked with guilt and shame at the ease with which she had made such a statement.
The implications of those ideas, those feelings, unleashed a chain of doubts and fears in Legatia's mind.
"Were the emotions I presented to my subjects day after day real?" She asked herself with growing guilt.
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At the time, it was real to her, or at least that's what she wanted to believe. When she gave a speech to the masses, or when she had to manage the servants, or when she had to convince the council members, or deal with her army general. All those acts provided her with strong emotions and desires, to lead properly, to protect her people by offering them a prosperous and safe kingdom.
But when the moments where those emotions were required ended,
"I don't care anymore," she murmured in astonishment.
But then, what were her goals and desires if they were in a constant state of change?
"Who am I really?" She pondered.
The implications of her previous reflections revealed a terrible truth to her, one whose implications she did not wish to even think about.
"You are a stone," the words left her lips, expelled from her brain in a ruthless attempt by her soul to make that thought real.
"It's not true! It can't be true!" howled Legatia, her body trembling with desperation.
"But it is the truth," said her other voice. "Just as stones cannot acquire shape until the sculptor begins his work, you cannot express desires and emotions until the world grants them to you."
"And since the world doesn’t provide you with nothing but an abyss of feelings to react to and not a situation to act upon, there is no architect to shape you according to the moment, you are just a blank stone, indistinguishable from others," explained the queen in a third voice.
Suddenly Legatia stopped her walk, for an idea, a revelation as impactful as if she had been struck by the most skilled archer in the county, hit her.
"I am a stone! That's it! That's what I am! That is my desire!" Legatia shouted, jumping and screaming with great emotion.
"So you finally realized," said the queen in a fourth voice. "That a stone not adorned by the dominating skills of the sculptor cannot be more than what it already is, that is, itself.
"Nothing! I am nothing! My desire is nothingness itself!"
Legatia's face, once expressionless, now lit up with the brightest of smiles, and she began to laugh heartily, not for the world, that vague and demanding sculptor, but for something that arose from herself.
With such overwhelming joy flooding her mind, Legatia couldn't help but move her body according to those emotions, extending her arms and spinning on her own axis, filling her lungs with that fresh and pure air, as if it were the first time she felt it, only to release all the air in a powerful scream, proclaiming her desire to the world.
"I am nothing!"
With that burst of emotion, the queen found herself exhausted and trying to catch her breath, she threw herself onto the soft, damp grass to enjoy the freedom and satisfaction that only the deepest revelations can offer.
"My lady, your presence is required in the throne room for an urgent meeting," exclaimed one of her guards, whose presence cast a dark shadow over the queen's light.
And once again, the world imposed upon her the form it desired to give her, but this time the stone that formed the material of the statue began to show cracks.