Such jewel-like eyes gleamed with amazement. “Is all of this true?” a sweetly innocent voice so asked, the sparkles of fascination as evident in tongue as in eyes.

“Assuredly so! It is a story my own mother told me!” another voice so replied, infectious charm and serpentine warmth capable of piercing hearts and exposing souls. Mother had once said that the bridge between truth and lie was weaker than met the beholder’s eye.

The youngest Berrybottom daughter, Gem, was so cozied up in her warmest and comfiest of beds, blankets as soft as clouds. The metaphorical gleams of amused wonder only sparkled more as she smiled, having been told quite the fable.

The night had risen; the world beyond had darkened. A single lit candle, quite bright, on the table next was all that kept Night’s shadow at bay.

Miranda was pleasantly seated on a chair next to her bed, purplish-magenta eyes peering with such magnetism. Gently on her lap was a thick book, one which had been retrieved from the Berrybottom’s personal library. A book of fables of legends and man; history masquerading as fantasy; fantasy masquerading as history; two faces of the same fundamental corpus.

However, this book of reality and delusions intermerged was closed; no words had been read from it. Gem found greater interest in that which Miranda held in mind rather than from words inscribed.

“You know so many wondering stories!” Gem gleefully remarked; “It feels like you have told me more wondering tales these past few days than I have been told in my whole youth!”

Miranda giggled graciously, hand covering her mouth; “You speak as if you are an old lady and not just a girl”.

“Too old for bedtime stories anyway; that is what they say…” Gem replied…becoming lowly, eyes drifting down a little; “I have not been told them in forever until I bumped into you!” She happied up.

“Well, no one is too old for stories and tales, little missy” Miranda so replied, tapping at the book on her lap; “Elders may say that the words in here are ‘stories’ and ‘fantasies’ and thus befit a child, but then open a book called ‘history’ to read and repeat; they study the legends of old, the myths of the Gods, or the words of Heaven; they gossip and rumor, spreading news and accounts; but all of those are…stories too… All around you, always, are stories being told, from your life to mine…”

Gem exhaled out a gentle breath, relaxing as she sank into the comforting depths of her comforters’ embrace… “You have a way with words…” she softly remarked; “I was always told that elves had more ‘wisdom than brightness’; that they are too detached to read or write… But you seem…smarter than me…”

“Gem…” Miranda gave her a frank yet charming stare… “Not every girl with long ears is an elf—mine are not as pointy… I am just several years your senior, so of course I am going to be seen as ‘smarter’ by you”.

“Hmm… Yeah, I suppose so…” Gem mellowly replied, neither positive nor negative, just…relaxed and pondering.

“Besides, having a ‘way with words’ is maybe not so important as much as how the words themselves are carried by the voice…” Miranda thus added.

“Yeah, you do have…a pleasantest voice; it makes me feel so… I can sleep listening to you and not have frights and worries…” Gem remarked… Her eyes then snapped to Miranda with new wonder; “How do you know so many stories, if I may?”

“Well…” Miranda began to…answer, “I have the luxury of knowing how to read, and I do enjoy it… But most of the stories I know come from my mother; she used to tell so many, and sometimes she…still does”—Whenever mother ever bothered to communicate…

“Really? Your mother, huh…” Gem sank further, her eyes drifting off and towards her chamber’s closed door, mind pondering…

“Is something on your mind?” Miranda immediately inquired.

“Those warriors that appeared today… Someone big is here…” Gem began to mumble, affect dampening…

“Do you know who?” Miranda tilted her head slightly ever-so.

“No, I do not… But we had to dine separately…” Gem thus spoke, lowly.

“Hm. And this saddens you?” Miranda thus asked; “I remember you not particularly fancying being in the company of your brothers and father…”

“Yeah… They fight a lot; I hate it… But my mother, we always would do things together and she always…made sure I was safe and…fine… But mother did not want my company this evening, so I had to dine alone…” Gem thus said, dampening; “It has been like this lately, not always but… She is being meaner and distant with me like she does not want to be around me… And I am not sure what I did…”

“Hm…” Miranda so began to ponder, finger gently pressed on chin.

“Billhook too, my older brother… I like him; he is nice to me and used to read to me… But I am scared father will send him away like he did to Halbert… I liked Halbert…” Gem continued, voice somberly mellow… “And now it feels like my mother does not love me anymore, I do not know… I feel lonelier…”

“How many years do you have on you?” Miranda, pondering finished, so asked.

Gem’s eyes drifted to her with a gentle stare; “Twelve? I will have thirteen by the thirty-third day of Autumn’s Sleep” she answered.

“Ah…” That would explain the sudden distancing. “You are growing up like your sisters had, and your mother maybe loves you too much” Miranda so remarked, smiling; “All things come to an end, and your mother is trying to prepare for when that time comes… Such is life, little Gem…”

Yet Gem did not see reasons for smiling… A melancholy entered her eyes; “That is…dreadful…”

“Only if you make it so” Miranda so spoke; “My mother always said that memories are the most precious things… To be cherished and preserved, eternally…”

“Huhm…” Gem mumbled, reflecting as she drifted further…

“So,” Miranda continued, “hold onto all the good memories so that you can keep out the bad… Do not cry from the things to come or had never arrived, but smile from the things that were…”

Gem’s eyes…drifted back to Miranda, a little bit evasive… “You telling me stories are good memories… Better than recent…” she remarked… “Would you be willing to…keep coming to me, and give me…more?”

Miranda smiled with a pleasant charm; “Absolutely, my young miss… So as long as I have stories to tell, I can give you at least one every night”.

Gem…smiled; the bleakness was vanquished, warmth filling within. “I would like to hear one more story; a big one, if you are willing…”

“Fine, one more…” Miranda sighed… “Hm…” She began to gently ponder… “Oh, I know a tale that no other in all these thousand realms knows…”

Gem’s eyes immediately became gleaming jewels of curiosity; “You cannot say that and not tell it! What is it? I want to hear!”

Miranda leaned in closer; “Listen closely, then: Once upon a time long forgotten, there were three primordial worlds, identical yet different…”

-||-

Miranda let loose a gentle exhale, walking forth down the halls of this manor-estate, oil-lamp in hand lighting way.

That was…tiresome.

She and Gem had so ‘bumped’ into each other some few days prior, though such ‘bumping’ was hardly an accident. Miranda was ‘making waves’, as that phrase so went; it was pertinent that the Berrybottom’s had a positive opinion of her; that she be allowed close to them, in both heart and space… Besides, of course, one whom it was better to avoid…

Nevertheless, Gem seemed…lonely, and Fortune’s infinite sickness had condemned her to having a soft spot for young girls like Gem. However, Miranda herself…liked stories, and… Hmm… She liked telling these stories too, she recognized.

Stories, after all, were what held this deceptively real world together—as mother had so said.

Miranda’s purplish-magenta eyes, slightly glistening with that similarly colored outline of decay, cast their sight through the large windows next and towards the sky up high. It was somewhat hazy; not perfectly clear. Yet she could see the shining crescent of that atmosphered moon—that other world following theirs as if lovers eternal. It was a little less than half lit from its right side—an indication that it was slowly ‘waxing’, not ‘waning’.

Miranda was as attuned with the phases of moon as with the cycle of night. She judged from its current phase that by month’s end three days from now—two days after this night—it should be a freshly entering waxing gibbous, thus only slightly more than half lit. Thus, that moon was not going to be as vibrant as that night of Summer’s Transition some twenty-days ago—the end of the previous and much longer month, ‘Summer’s Fatigue’—, which even then had only seen a…quite waning moon in spite of its then glorious shine, not a true full moon.

Such was a shame, really. Though, at least the stars would be more freed from moonlight’s cloud.

Miranda’s nightly eyes cast themselves away from the night, towards the darkened halls in front. Much lingered within. Shadows and ghosts of thoughts. However, it was difficult to think; that accursed hunger within, it gnawed at her from the desperate cries of her own decaying soul, demanding.

With each passing day, she was slowly becoming weaker and weaker as if a gradual withering flame… And that yearn for survival, to persist and exist, overrode any other possible focuses and interests. Yet, nevertheless, she remained focused on mother’s ever-vague priorities.

Indeed… Right this very moment, she could feel such a presence and liberating warmth, both surrounding around and penetrating within. Mother was watching; mother was present… Mother’s touch kept the blighted hunger contained; however, mother was not always around, and in her absence violet rot was allowed to resume.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Miranda gently sighed… “What are you planning, mother?” she pondered aloud. Indeed… Plans had abruptly changed, yet mother remained ever-cryptic besides uttering a single title and name.

Suddenly, a piercing feeling struck the binding fabrics of her soul; a presence needing not be seen so beckoned her attention—or rather of that which was so deeply imbued deep down within.

Miranda’s eyes immediately lanced their sight to that which was now in front down the hall ahead, gently situated upon a window’s frame. Staring at it immediately caused that outline in her irises to brighten in reply, color shifting more towards magenta than purple as the hunger within subsided ever-so within this moment alone.

“Mother…” As if a daughter being hailed, Miranda quickly went towards…

A butterfly. Phantom and meta-physical yet behaved as if material and physical. Wispy and sparkly… Radiance so pure and stable…as if composed of creamy sunlight or the milky clouds of the cosmic stream. It was, in all ways, antithetical to what hers was—at least, in appearance.

However, the butterfly took off and graciously began to fly in soft wispy glimmer, leading away down the hall another way.

Miranda promptly followed with swift striding steps, for mother only had select reasons for displaying in such an open way.

The butterfly led and led down the halls, before abruptly popping in a sparkle-glittery fizzle, radiant wisps disappearing. Miranda’s shadow-striding walk came to a pause, as she saw up ahead…

A fellow peer strolling somberly down the hall with eyes cast to the windows aside, heart trapped in mind. She knew that walk; she knew that lost and astray gaze; she knew that girl.

Miranda began to move as if a shadow in darkness; it had been…maybe too long despite not having been long at all.

-|-

The sounds of fast-approaching heels so riddled the air about, before all so rapidly…

“Boop!” Thus, such a piercing tap struck the aloof shoulder.

Immediately, Blossom shuddered and jerked, effectively spinning herself around as she turned and stared, breathing in and out; she was spooked, quite.

“Hehe…” Miranda so giggled, amused to Blossom’s bemusement. “Hey hey, Pinky! Look who’s here! You may bow when ready…” she playfully smirked.

“Miranda…” Blossom’s fear vanished, a tiny smile entering face… “…hi…” she mellowly greeted, a bit…quietly; “It’s been a bit…”

“Yeah…” Miranda, guilty, caressed the back of her head; “Sorry about that Pink, I know I said would…not…vanish without saying hello, but…”

“…you are saying…hello now…” Blossom remarked, by no means upset; “…we are…friends; that won’t…change…no matter what…”

Miranda’s breaths…dampened a bit; “Yeah… No matter…what…” Her eyes became more…lowly.

“So, it is…alright…if…you need to…do whatever; I won’t burden you…” Blossom finished.

Miranda’s posture quickly rebounded, becoming energized; “You talk as if you are the burden” she smiled, leaning in closer playfully and mischievously; “However, it is I who is the burden! Hehe!”

“Hm…” Blossom gently mumbled, her smile growing… Her eyes cast themselves yet again to the windows about… Her smile…tempered itself, contemplations brewing within… “Well, I am…alone right now, so…want to…walk?” she mellowly…yet timidly…asked.

“Woah, you’re the one offering?” Miranda dramatically gasped aback; “It hasn’t even been that long, but are you the Pink I know? Alien almost!” The theatrics continued; “I suppose this what they meant by time being so slow for the youth and thus making them quick changing…”

“Pfft…” Blossom just pffted… “You’re not even that much older than me” she said, before…pausing…contemplating… “Rightly? You’re not…too far my senior, rightly?” Blossom had no idea how old Miranda was, she realized…

“Hehe, I wonder…” Miranda did not answer, even though…Blossom was largely correct. “Anyway, I gladly accept…your walk…” she smiled.

“…cool” Blossom smiled slimly, mellow and gentle.

Thus, the two began to jointly walk; direction meaningless and unbounded, they just strolled.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on…dinner-duty still?” Miranda inquired…

“They finished…” Blossom answered.

“Manifestly… I meant clean-up, left-over munching, and suchly such: that takes time” Miranda clarified.

“I slipped out…” Blossom admitted, honest.

“Tsk. Tsk.” Miranda wagged her finger; “Naughty, naughty… Pinky, that’s a paddling”.

“Let them paddle. Worth it… I needed to be alone…” Blossom was rather frank.

Miranda’s piercing sight had already noticed that something was obviously in her mind; “What’s up, then, Pinky?”

Blossom…stared, her head lightly tilting… “…wha?” She was confused; “…what do you mean… ‘what is up’? The…the ceiling? The roof? Why are you asking…”

“…” Miranda averted a bit… “Ahem: idiom, Pinky… It is one…”—she realized—“not sensible in these lands, ha…ha…” she awkwardly laughed, brushing it off; “But it means, in this case, ‘what is happening’ or ‘what is in your mind’ and such…”

“…oh” Blossom just replied, eyes drifting away… “Nothing really, then…”

“Hmmm?” Miranda was vocally skeptical; “Well, I heard it was an exceptional dinner this day… Special guest—one of status too…” She tried to narrow it down.

“…yeah…” Blossom’s affect dampened noticeably more.

“Come on, Pink… Just scream it. You know the worst I’ll do is hug” Miranda nudged.

“Hmm…” Blossom contemplated… “Well… A few things, I suppose…” thus she began to mellowly open slightly… “Humbleberry… If I understood rightly, villages there are being…razed and butchered…”

“Oh…” Miranda’s mouth widened; “Gods, that is…terrible…” She always seemed to struggle at feigning being horrified; there was something about those emotions that made it difficult to convey as genuine.

“Yeah… And they were just mundane about it, so casual…” yet Blossom continued…

“Even Billhook?” Miranda asked, prodding.

Blossom’s stature…was visibly affected by the utterance of that name… “No… Not really, he…he spoke a lot of…better words…”

Miranda raised an eyebrow; “You were totally into his words, weren’t you?”

“Shijblzsh!” Blossom’s lips so splurged as she blushed; “No… Or… Alrightly, maybe… His were…more agreeable…” she admitted, voice only becoming more…lowly.

“Well, Billyhook seems to be the man in your head, so…out with it” Miranda verbally nudged.

Blossom…hesitated, before…sighing; “That surprise guest… He said he was the…Earl of North Creamlight…”

Immediately, Miranda’s pointy ears so…reacted; “Uhuh..” She slowed in her walk momentarily… before catching up.

“He said he has a daughter…also, who is in need…of a suitor… And he seemed interested in Billhook…” Blossom thus recalled, voice dampening…

“Ohh…” Miranda peered closer… “That’s why… Your stomach’s full of jelly…” she teased.

“Pfft…” Blossom pffted… “Yeah. Fine. I’ll admit it… I fancy him, and I am full of jelly!” she…so admitted? “I will not…deny this anymore: I like him… I do not know him or who he is truly, but…if he wanted to bed me, I would let him…”

Miranda…was almost taken aback…by Blossom’s sudden bluntness; “Wowzah! Pinky! What the…” It was hard to say whether some of this was intentional theatrics or not.

“…sorry…” Blossom…mellowly apologized…“I just wanted to…say that…out loud…” she supposed… “Since that was…never going to happen; I was never going to…speak to him… Let alone enact any of my…fantasies…”

“Pink, there is nothing stopping you from…”—Miranda paused, realizing—“Rightly, Melon has been assigned to you, and I know Melon: she’s Melon…”

“Of course you know her… You know everyone somehow…” Blossom remarked, mood brightening; “And she is a—”

“Golem?” Miranda interposed…

“Yes! That’s exactly what I was thinking!” Blossom’s voice became a bit louder, though quickly simmered.

Miranda giggled; “Yep, yep… She’s got that golem spice to her…” she thus said; “But I can confirm that she is, in truth, a living breathing girl, much like you”.

Blossom, however, raised an eyebrow; “You certain?” she was skeptical; perhaps jokingly, perhaps not… It was truly hard to tell.

Miranda smiled; “Trust me, Pinky… If Melon were a golem”—her brightening outlined eyes looked into Blossom, lips tensing with a smirk just a bit—“I would know…” The hunger spoke more than she herself.

Blossom…stared… “Spooky… You can be…spooky…sometimes…” she remarked; “Your weird…elvish fang-like…pointer-teeth don’t alleviate either… Sometimes it’s like they grow—Weirdo…” She was being friendly.

Miranda sighed… “Thus speaketh the countess of weirdos, miss troublemaker…”

Blossom softly giggled, humored quite.

“So,” Miranda began to shift, “that…earl fella… What do you think of him?”

“Freak.” Blossom held nothing back; “I didn’t like him; mid-aged and groggy—and you should have been there to see the way he was…was…looking at me!” Blossom shivered; “Ew! Ew! Ew!”

“Looking at you?” Miranda immediately inquired.

“Yeah! He…just eyed me—I mean, it was not too long, but…it was a moment too noticeable since I was the subject of his…”—she shivered again—“Bleh… He’s a freakish snake, like the rest…”

“Wow, you are not holding back this night… Your mouth is maybe becoming a bit too feisty, my cute Pinky…” Miranda was amused. However, her own eyes soon found themselves adrift... “So, he saw you and…stared, huh?” she murmured to herself.

Blossom exhaled, having unloaded yet still quite loaded… “Too much has happened this day… I just want it to end… I am so exhausted” she lamented…

Miranda returned her sight, peering closer; “Well… Considering it has ‘been a bit’, any more news for good ol’ me? Come on, update me” she spoke with a charm, smiling.

“Hm…” Blossom retreated into her head again, contemplating… “Moon apologized some days ago…”

Miranda’s walk…again slowed pace… “Did she now…”

“Yeah…” Blossom thus said; “She wants to make amends, I suppose… Try to understand each other, I suppose… We’ve been talking lately…”

“I see…” For whatever reason, Miranda felt…strange, even though she was the one who had…

“She said you two had spoken…and that you said…you never wanted to see her again unless she apologized…” Blossom remarked, eyes turning to peer… “I didn’t know you…could be…mean like that…”

“Yeah…” Miranda just said, before speeding up to catch up her pace. “Well, I told you I’d handle things… And I was maybe a tad upset…”

Yet Blossom had withdrawn her peering eyes… “Hm…” She again became stuck in mind.

“Alrighty, what is it now?” Miranda’s sight immediately pierced and saw.

“I don’t know…” Blossom gently spoke, clearly reflecting… “The other two… Apple and Black… I know their…names now, but…they apologized today; they seemed really genuine too… But…” She paused…

“…but?” Miranda waited for her to continue…

“I don’t know…” Blossom just said… “Something seemed weird about them—I mean, I never…spoke with them before, or care to…ever…look at them… But…”—she turned to Miranda—“Did…Apple always have a stutter?”

Miranda stared, slightly confused… “Uhm… No? She’s a clear cutesy speaker…”

“Hmm…” Blossom mumbled… “Well, she stuttered a lot… And seemed weirdly aloof…” She returned her eyes to the front.

“Aloof? Much like you?” Miranda teased.

“Shpsh!” Blossom puffed, blushing a little… “Anyway…” She rebounded quickly; “Moon, she told me that…she somehow…rememberingly does not remember…the details of what happened; the dirt she…tortured from me, she doesn’t remember it… Or that’s what she told me…”

“And you believe her?” Miranda plainly asked…

“No—I mean, I suppose—or…” Blossom struggled to decide, flustering in mind slightly… “I don’t…know…” she sighed; “We didn’t really…talk so much, but Black and Apple also…implied the same…”

“Well,” Miranda began to interpose, “Moon told me the same thing… She knows what she did, but can’t remember the specifics… Said something about ‘deafened memories’…”

Blossom immediately turned and stared, tilting her head a bit… “She said the same thing to you?”

“Seemingly so…” Miranda just replied.

“Hm…” Blossom less mumbled and more whined as her eyes withdrew once again, her mind aching from this subject most truly… “They seemed so solemn, but it is so…convenient and impossible to believe!” her voice loudened… “And I feel so…stupid for even…believing them… Trusting them… Despite what they did…” her voice simmered; “I was so terrified of them, but now…”

“Well,” Miranda interposed with pleasant voice, “being blindly full of terror is just as stupid as being blindly trusting… And I would not say that you are blind…”

Blossom, yet again, so gently turned and eyed… “You wouldn’t?”

“Nope!” Miranda so shook… “I think they’re telling the truth too…”

Blossom felt…positively affirmed; “…so, I am not…stupid…”

“Or mayhap we are both kinda stupid…” Miranda casually teased.

“That’s true…” Blossom sighed…

“Though, it makes you think…” Miranda began to muse, “something’s amuck…”

Blossom’s breaths…abruptly tensed, jittering; “I don’t think I want to…think about this anymore…” She seriously did not; “It hurts my head… The Gods do…weird things all the time, and Fortune has always been a mean bitch… That’s all…”

“Gods, huh?” Miranda murmured, sighing; “Sure, you don’t have to cogitate about this… Or talk…” She paused in her walk… “Anyhow, Pinky, this has been great, but… I should return to my, you know, ‘duties’…”

Blossom, however, paused in kind and turned… “Oh… Uhm… Well, as I have…no idea where…Melon is, and…I have to…work until…midnight, so… I was hoping…you would…stay with me…until then…” she mellowly said, slightly awkward… “Your company is…liberating…”

Miranda…looked, her own breaths feeling…weird and tense… “…oh, how can I refuse… Sure, why not?” Yet she smiled with a charm, nevertheless… “I could use a cute helper anyway…”

“…cool” Blossom smiled a gentle smile that bestowed a different kind of warmth to that otherwise cold and empty soul.

Best keep these good memories to heart

For you now have confirmation…

That such is not destined to last

Machinations ever in motion…

Of which you are but a single piece