The gentle hum of the piano filled the golden ballroom, mingling harmoniously with the chirping of a bird. Emilia sat before the grand instrument, her eyes closed in concentration. Her small fingers danced across the keys with fluid rhythm, each note cascading gracefully into the next until she ended on a soothing final chord.
“Splendid work, Lady Emilia,” said Professor Lucian, his deep voice cutting through the silence. A nobleman from the Fifth Realm, he was an imposing figure, towering and sharply dressed. A gleaming golden pocket watch hung from his dark, award-adorned coat, its polished chain catching the light. His youthful face bore a calm composure, and his dark hair escaped the brim of his top hat.
“Thank you, Professor,” Emilia said, rising to bow. Beads of sweat dotted her brow, one falling onto the piano’s polished surface. The bird’s persistent chirping drew her gaze, and she noticed a tiny creature perched on Lucian’s shoulder. The sight brought a small smile to her lips. “Is that your pet?”
Lucian turned to the bird, stroking its cheek with a gloved hand. “A pet?” he repeated, his voice carrying a thoughtful lilt. “No, I’d rather call him a companion met along my travels. Do you like birds, Lady Emilia?”
She brushed her hair behind her ear, nodding.
“Hmm,” he mused, letting the bird hop onto his finger before extending it toward her. Emilia reached out hesitantly, her delight growing as the bird chirped. He adjusted his coat and moved toward the grand doorway. “I’ll inform your father of your performance and then take my leave.”
Her hands paused mid-pet, and she looked up. “Wait, you’re leaving already? Teachers usually stay longer.”
“I’m aware of the customs,” Lucian said, his gaze drifting to the vaulted ceiling. “But there are greater things to attend to than upholding traditions for their own sake. Don’t you agree, Lady Emilia? Besides, you have your own journey to prepare for, do you not?”
Emilia nodded, her excitement bubbling to the surface. She held the bird close, its warmth comforting in her hands. Lucian gave her a fleeting glance, then stepped out without another word, his figure disappearing beyond the gilded doors.
That was the last time Emilia saw Professor Lucian. He never returned to grace the halls of Nathan's castle again.
*
The room carried a gentle ambience—dimly lit yet cosy, with a grand bed. By the window, where the only source of light streamed in, a lady sat in a rocking chair. She hummed a soft tune, her hands working with precision as she knitted, the needles clicking rhythmically while balls of yarn rolled across the floor.
Her chestnut hair cascaded over her face, framing her fair complexion speckled with faint freckles that added a unique charm. Her dark yellow eyes gleamed with warmth, a gentle smile on her lips that hinted at an unspoken strength capable of conquering worlds. Between each stitch came soft giggles, melodic enough to melt the hardest of hearts.
The faint creak of the door pulled her attention.
“Emilia?” she called, her voice as delicate as the tune she hummed. She turned her head, her warm gaze settling on the little girl standing in the doorway, giving her a welcoming smile.
Emilia’s face lit up as she dashed into the room, her hands carefully clasping a small bird. “Mother, look what my teacher gave me! Isn’t he adorable?”
Mireille’s smile deepened, her hum continuing as her eyes shifted to the bird. “That’s a female, sweetheart.”
“What?” Emilia blinked, shaking her head. “But—no, it wasn’t my fault! He didn’t tell me she was a girl!” She huffed but quickly climbed onto her mother’s lap, settling herself atop the half-finished sweater. “So, Mother, guess what!”
“What? Did Pasta do something again?”
She shook her head and returned back with a giggle. “Father finally allowed me to go out to the city”
Mireille raised an eyebrow with a knowing grin. “Hmm, did Pasta cause trouble again?”
Emilia giggled, shaking her head again. “No, not this time. Father finally said I could go to the city!”
Mireille tilted her head, her smile playful. “Oh, I already knew. He told me before he gave you the news. He was sure you’d get an excellent score.”
Emilia’s excitement faltered, replaced by a pout as she crossed her arms. “I wanted to tell you first! Why does Father always do this? He’s always the one to tell you everything first!”
Mireille chuckled, wrapping an arm around Emilia. “It’s only because he knows how much I love hearing about you, my little star. But I promise, next time, I’ll act surprised just for you.”
Emilia couldn’t hold her pout for long, breaking into a sheepish grin as she snuggled closer, the bird chirping in her hands.
A creek from the door interrupted their moment.
Pasta peeked into the room with teary eyes as he clutched his finger. Bursting through the doorway, he wailed, “Mother, I accidentally cut myself!” He rushed in for a hug, only to freeze mid-step when he saw Emilia.
Quickly rubbing his eyes, he straightened and broke into a loud, exaggerated laugh. “Yes, Mother! That’s what those boys said after I beat them up! Then I was like—pow! Never mess with me again!”
Mireille exchanged a glance with Emilia, and they both chuckled. Pasta’s cheeks turned as red as ripe cherries. “It’s true, I tell you!” he said, then turned to Emilia. “What are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have piano practice?”
“I’m already done,” Emilia replied, hopping down from Mireille’s lap and placing the bird in her mother's arm. She caught sight of Pasta’s bleeding hand and frowned, taking it gently.
Pasta pouted, tugging his hand away. “I’m fine! It’s just a scratch.”
Shaking her head, Emilia darted across the room to fetch the med kit. Mireille chuckled as she scooped up the fidgeting boy and sat him on her lap. Despite his protests that he was “too old” for such coddling, his movements slowed when Mireille rested his head against her chest as her steady hum calmed the restless mischief-maker.
Emilia returned with ointment and bandages. “This won’t hurt,” she said.
Pasta puffed out his chest. “Even if it does, I can take it!”
Emilia applied the ointment with precision, sending an icy chill through Pasta’s arm. His face twisted in silent agony, his thoughts screaming betrayal at how something so small could sting so much.
“It’s a beautiful day to be outside,” Mireille said, breaking the silence. Her gaze shifted to Emilia. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for your trip?”
Emilia paused her work, looking up at her mother. She hesitated, then spoke. “Well… I just thought… you’re always stuck here, so I wanted to invite you to come with me,” she said, her voice brimming with excitement. Her smile widened as she pressed Pasta’s hand a little harder than necessary, earning a wince from him. “We could visit so many wonderful places in Ilumis. It'll be fun,” she said as the little bird chirped in agreement.
Mireille’s gaze softened as she looked out the window. “I find peace here, my love,” she whispered.
The words dampened Emilia’s enthusiasm leaving her with a lowered head.
“But,” Mireille said, her tone warm, “I wouldn’t mind strolling with you across the fields sometimes.”
Emilia’s eyes brightened like sunlight piercing through clouds. Before she could respond, Pasta turned to his mother, pouting. “Hey! What about me? I’ve been asking for ages for you to come out with me and climb the trees, but you agree to Emilia in a heartbeat. That’s so unfair!”
Emilia shot him a mischievous look. “I am Mother’s favourite, after all. What did you expect?”
Pasta grumbled, narrowing his eyes at her.
Mireille laughed, pulling both children into her arms. “You’re both my favourites, my loves. The entire world could never mean more to me than you two.” Her hands rested on their heads, ruffling their hair with tender affection. Even the bird wished to be a part of it as she spread her wings around Emilia’s hair.
A shadow lingered at the doorway, unseen by the children. Mireille’s gaze briefly flickered toward it, her smile unchanging as she held her children close. Nathan remained silent, watching from the threshold before slipping away, leaving the moment undisturbed.
*
Emilia darted through the bustling streets of Ilumis, her golden dress swirling in the breeze as her hat teetered, threatening to fly off. Behind her, Pasta struggled to keep pace, his face twisted with growing boredom.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Ilumis was unlike any place Emilia had ever seen, a kaleidoscope of wonder where the arts ruled supreme and every street hummed with life. The cobblestone paths beneath her feet were uneven yet charming, etched with intricate designs that caught the light of the sun like scattered gemstones. Above, grand buildings with arched windows and ornate carvings seemed to stretch toward the heavens, their walls painted in hues of lavender, gold, and crimson with little tricksters jumping across them.
The air was thick with the scent of sugar and spice, an intoxicating blend that made Emilia’s stomach rumble. Pastry shops lined the streets, their windows showcasing decadent towers of cakes layered with frosting as delicate as spun glass. Cart vendors offered scoops of pastel-hued creams, their jingling bells luring passersby to pause and indulge.
The people of Ilumis were as vivid as the city itself. Men strutted in coats with tails that dragged behind them like rivers of velvet, their faces adorned with curling moustaches that seemed to defy gravity. Women swirled past in skirts that fanned out like flower petals, their shoulders adorned with capes embroidered in threads that glittered like starlight. Some passed, having bowls over their heads, riding on giant dogs dressed as butlers with a little bit of mischief hidden in their eyes. And then there were the dark musicians—a hauntingly elegant troupe of figures draped in black cloaks and crowned with top hats. Flutes dangled from their belts, carrying secrets whispered only in song.
Music was everywhere, as constant as the air Emilia breathed. A trio of violinists played a lively tune on a corner, their bows moving in unison with a nimbleness that made the crowd cheer. From the balconies above, singers poured out operatic notes so rich and haunting they seemed to freeze time. Even the gentle splash of a fountain at the town square kept its rhythm, accompanied by the soft plucking of a harp from somewhere unseen, maybe a ghoul or heavenly creature just enjoying their usual trickery.
Emilia’s gaze darted from one spectacle to the next. A mime stood perfectly still until a child tossed a coin into his hat, and then he burst into an elaborate dance that had onlookers roaring with laughter. A juggler dressed in gold performed impossible feats with glowing orbs, tossing them so high they vanished into the sunlight before returning to his steady hands.
Her feet carried her toward the heart of the city, with Pasta yawning from behind. The city centre where the Ilumis Grand Theatre towered above all else. Its towering facade was a masterpiece in itself, adorned with mosaics that told stories of heroes and legends, including majestic illustrations of their Nobleman- Nathan Falcrest. Beneath its shadow, a stage had been erected, and a troupe of performers captivated a growing audience with acrobatics and fire dances.
Castle guards stationed along the streets kept a watchful eye on the siblings.
To the people of Ilumis and the entire Nine Realms, Emilia Falcrest was a ghost—a secret known by the guards and castle workers, who had sworn an oath to conceal her existence. They did not know why, only that the price of revealing the truth would be dire. To the outside world, Emilia Falcrest simply did not exist.
“Yummy!” Emilia squealed as she buried her face in a frosty treat from a street vendor’s stall.
Arnold, a burly man with a thick brown beard, watched her with a satisfying look in his eyes. “You like that, girlie? Go on, take it—it’s on the house.”
Emilia looked up at him with a delighted smile and shook her head. “I’ve never tasted anything like this before! What do you call it?”
Arnold scratched his moustache. “Hmm... good question.” He turned and yelled over his shoulder, “Hey, Johnny! What’s this stuff called again?”
Another man, an exact replica of Arnold, emerged from inside the stall. “It’s either Ice Sugar or Creamy Ice—depends on how fancy you’re feeling,” he said with a warm smile to Emilia. Then his face twisted into a scowl as he turned back toward Arnold. “And why are you yelling, you moron”
“Who are you calling moron, moron?” Arnold said, gripping a scoop like a weapon.
Emilia blinked, watching their bickering with wide eyes. It’s only my first time outside, and I’m already seeing twins. I thought this kind of thing only happened in fairy tales.
Pasta paid no attention to the treats or the quarrelling vendors. His gaze wandered, his steps slowing as he started to drift away. Wishing he was back at the castle, nestled in his mother’s arms and napping the day away.
At a nearby cake shop, Maria sat at an outdoor table, sipping tea. A scarf covered the lower half of her face, and dark glasses obscured her sharp eyes as they peeked over the rim of her cup. She leaned back in her seat with a sigh. “I’m exhausted,” she whispered. “Emilia has far too much energy. Just one more hour, and we’ll be back at the castle.”
Standing beside her, Otger, her personal guard, remained steadfast. “Madame, this outing is a break for you as well. Please try to relax. Have faith in our men.”
Maria waved her hand, tossing a piece of cake into her mouth. “It’s Pasta that worries me. We may have given him a stick instead of Naga, but I still fear he’ll get himself into some kind of trouble. That boy is a constant headache. Why can’t he be normal like his sister?”
Otger allowed himself a small smile. “With respect, madame, you shouldn’t have given him a stick in the first place.”
Maria’s gaze snapped toward him, unamused. Otger quickly averted his eyes, choosing silence over a fork to the eye.
*
Emilia finished her treat, leaving a small pile of gold coins on the vendor’s table.
The twins paused their argument to gape at the money.
“Darling, this is far too much,” Arnold said, picking up the coins. “Your parents will surely be angry if they find out you’ve been stealing from them. Besides, I told you it was on the house.”
Emilia chuckled and grabbed Pasta’s hand, who was already asleep. “Don’t worry. I didn’t steal the money. I just enjoyed it that much.”
The twins exchanged a bewildered look, shrugged in unison, and bowed. “Thank you, miss.”
Emilia waved them off, about to guide Pasta along when a commotion caught her attention. Down the street, a group of city guards marched with a large figure in tow.
Pasta, jolted awake by the noise, blinking at the sight. The guards shoved their captive forward, one nudging him with the butt of a rifle.
“Alright, alright, I’m moving,” grumbled a deep, husky voice. The captive’s tail swished behind him, and his glittering, razor-sharp teeth caught the light, framed by thick white fur.
“A polar bear?” Emilia whispered, not knowing how to process the sight.
As the bear trudged past, he glanced at her with a friendly glint in his eyes and a grin that somehow managed to feel both genuine and mischievous.
“Hello, little lady,” he said with a wink.
Before Emilia could give a reply, the ground rumbled, and colourful smoke erupted from the sewers beneath the streets. Laughter echoed through the haze as figures on skateboards emerged, weaving through the colourful chaos.
Maria stood and commanded the guards to secure the siblings.
The guards hurried to Emilia’s last known position, only to vanish into the thick smoke.
“Boss Gerald!!” a voice called from the colourful haze. A boy on a skateboard scraped his metal pipe against the ground, sending sparks flying.
The bear laughed out. “That’s my boy!” he screamed.
The sparks ignited into a burst of flame, launching the boy into the air. He collided with one of the guards before gracefully landing back on his skateboard, grinning as more figures appeared, striking guards left and right.
Gerald flexed his massive arms, snapping his cuffs. He chuckled, standing amidst the chaos as vibrant lights descended upon him from nowhere. His teeth gleamed as he struck a pose.
“Good morning, Ilumis!!” he roared, drums pounding in rhythm from an unseen source. Music swirled through the air, infectious and upbeat. Some civilians cheered while others groaned in exasperation. Children perched on rooftops leaned forward with wide, gleeful eyes, with their hands stained with paint.
Climbing atop a vendor cart, Gerald struck another flamboyant pose before leaning down toward Arnold. “Hey, what’s this stuff called again?”
“Ice—uh, Sugary Ice. Ice Cream?” Arnold stammered.
“Yeah! Ice cream!” Gerald screamed, launching cups of the frozen treat toward the advancing guards. A sleek electric guitar sailed through the air, and with perfect timing, the bear caught it mid-flight.
With a single powerful strum, Gerald unleashed a thrilling riff that sent the crowd into a frenzy. Even the dogs went wild, running in circles as the gentlemen aboard them clapped their hands to the beat.
The cheers became deafening, and the energy so contagious that even Emilia found herself swept up in the excitement, jumping and laughing along with the crowd.
Maria sent more guards into the swirling smoke. The reinforcements barely made it halfway before shadowy skateboarders zoomed out of nowhere, striking them down with pinpoint precision and vanishing back into the haze.
“We are Skidditz, and we mean no harm!” Gerald said, spreading his massive arms wide. “Tuck in your moustaches and hold your cakes tight, for the party is just getting started!"
The riders strummed, drummed, and blew their instruments, weaving around the disoriented guards. The crowd erupted with cheers as bursts of vivid light and colour filled the streets, painting everything in chaotic brilliance. Until, a sudden gust of energy tore through the smoke, clearing it in an instant. Standing at the epicentre was Maria, her glasses glinting and her fists clenched.
Gerald strummed his guitar, producing a melancholy note. “Uh oh”
“Arrest them,” she whispered. The guards charged forward, shouting as they closed in on the skaters and Gerald.
The bear’s ears drooped as he glanced at Emilia. “I’m really sorry about this,” he whispered.
Emilia blinked, her arms still in the air.
Gerald scooped up Emilia and the snoring Pasta. “Don’t come any closer!” he shouted at the advancing guards. “Or… or I’ll… I’ll do something drastic! I can’t be arrested again—it’s awful! So just back off, okay?”
Emilia squirmed in his grip, struggling to break free. “Let me go!” she shouted. Meanwhile, Pasta remained oblivious, snoring away with a bubble forming on his nose.
As Maria surged forward, a smoke bomb detonated, engulfing the scene once again. In the chaos, Gerald leapt into the air, a skateboard zipping into his paw courtesy of one of his crew.
“Alright, my friends, let’s bounce!” he declared, striking a flamboyant pose before darting into the sewers, his laughter echoing behind him.
Emilia gagged and tried to cover her nose, but the putrid smell overwhelmed her senses, and she slipped into unconsciousness.
“Man, that was awesome!” one of the riders said.
“No, that was extraordinary! Did you see the way Gerald almost got caught?”
A rider glided closer to Gerald, eyeing the unconscious siblings in his grasp. “Hey, uh… who are they?”
Gerald froze, his eyes widening. “Nooo! I forgot to drop them off! Oh, butter, I’m in so much trouble…”
The group collectively sighed, shaking their head.
“Well, nothing we can do now,” the rider shrugged. Emerging from the tunnels, they found themselves in a lush green clearing dominated by a massive tree. Ribbons hung from its branches, and its bark was adorned with finger-painted designs and messy musical notes.
With the press of a hidden button, a hidden slide extended into the stairs, and the crew dashed up into their towering treehouse.
Inside, their hidden base stretched upward like a labyrinthine castle. The space was littered with oversized pillows, half-eaten doughnuts, and scattered notebooks filled with music scribbles.
Emilia stirred, her vision blurry as she realised she was sprawled atop Pasta, who was still snoring. The sight of children her age frolicking with the massive white bear jolted her fully awake.
Her eyes shot wide, and she grabbed Pasta’s stick, pointing it. “Stay back! I know how to use this!” she said, her hands trembling.
From her bag, her bird burst out, flaring its wings. Her deadly wings capable of breaking bones.
Gerald approached slowly, his heavy steps rumbling the wooden floor. His breathing was harsh, and his eyes burned with raw power, making Emilia tremble. But then, he dropped to his knees with a sigh.
“I’m deeply sorry,” he said, bowing his head. “I don’t know what came over me. For once, I actually felt like a master criminal…”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ve heard this one before,” a boy with dark skin and blue stripes on his cheeks said as he approached Emilia. “Don’t mind the bear. Messing up missions is kind of his thing. I’m Kilo, by the way. Nice to meet you.”
The other hooded figures pulled back their cloaks, revealing more children of various ages. They dashed around the room, climbing stairs, tumbling onto enormous treehouse, and playing instruments.
She turned back to them. “Who are you guys?”
Emilia lowered the stick, her brow furrowing. “Who are you people?”
Kilo grinned, taking a step back and spreading his arms. “We’re musicians and adventurers,” he gave a pose with the others. “The people call us Skidditz”
For a brief moment, Emilia’s eyes sparkled with wonder. But then her face twisted in disbelief. “Wait, huh?”
Pasta yawned and stretched his arms, savouring the remnants of his nap. His gaze fell on Emilia. Her dress was smeared with dirt, the once-crisp fabric dulled and torn at the edges. Her hat, usually perched on her head, was askew, barely clinging on. She stood defiant, a stick clutched in her hands. Beside her, a bird—unassuming yet oddly protective—flared its wings as though ready to defend her against the world.
Pasta rubbed his eyes and squinted, disbelief settling in as he noticed the strangers nearby and a bear that stood among them, its sheer presence casting a long menacing shadow over his sister.
“Okay, I get it,” he whispered as he gently took the stick from Emilia’s grip. He nudged the bird back with a protective hand. “Now, what did you all do to my sister?”
Kilo was about to speak as the air in the room shifted as if the world itself had paused to draw a sharp breath. The air vibrated with an almost imperceptible hum and then came the surge.
A burst of raw, unrestrained energy rippled through the space, slamming into the walls. Some of the kids stumbled, their knees buckling under the weight of it. The bear raised his hands to surrender but Pasta paid no mind to it.
Pasta took a step forward, his movements slow but exuding an air of menace that sent shivers down their spines.
“You have five seconds to answer,” he whispered, his eyes dark. “Before I cut your heads.”