Thomas stood close to Diane while she was observing something inside an antique shop he had never paid much attention to.

Behind the broken glass, covered in sparkling silk, a king and queen danced. With his hand of wax around her hips, and her plastic eyes looking aside, they spun to the music their little box played. Beauty, purity, and grace. The only thing they owned was sounds, chained into the necklace she wore around her neck. Completely covered, they never noticed a crack of ice forming on their magical globe. They just kept dancing.

“Do you like it?” Thomas asked.

“No,” she answered.

“No? I find it really pretty.”

“There is nothing pretty about wax figures.”

“Why not?” he asked once more.

Diane looked at him, shallow water covering her perfect eyes. “They melt.”

As she turned away from the shop window, Diane stepped over the winged monster engraved in the center of the small town and almost let the thought of her home slip into her mind. Thomas didn't want to understand, but everyone around him seemed so determined to make him, a little flour loader, a part of their history. Why? What was so special about him? He didn’t realize they had been standing facing each other until Diane said, loud and clear:

“If you ask me, I will tell you.”

Thomas swore Diane heard his heart beating; he looked at the side as the left side of his lips twitched. “Ask you what?”

“Why it has to be you.”

Thomas awkwardly pushed Diane’s shoulder. “It’s my good looks, isn’t it? Where are we going anyway?”

When he brushed past her, she grabbed his hand, a lot more gently than she wanted. “Do you think I’m a coward?” she asked in a way that made all the hidden meanings crawl out in the open.

Thomas chuckled, his throat as dry as ever. “Well, even if you are, is it such a bad thing?”

“It makes you weak.”

“Not everyone has to be strong.”

“And if I don’t have a choice?” She hoped to find a trigger in his eyes that would set the plan in motion. But he still wasn’t ready. The Judge said to wait until he was ready, not to scare him away, but Diane was growing more and more impatient and infuriated.

“Everyone has a choice,” Thomas replied. “Clara Heal weaves the threads of destiny, and she was our first queen. It is not possible for Crystalians, people whom she loved and cherished so, not to have a…”

“Alright,” Diane interrupted, finally letting go of his hand. “Let’s go back.”

Thomas followed her, blocking out the conversation as much as possible. But everything that had happened that day starting with his mother’s strange declaration, was too out of place. Why is Diane Hunster friends with a Demon and why did she invite him to be part of her strange mission? And why would she even want to find that will in the first place; everyone already knew what it said: Clara Heal had decided to trade the second half of her life to become destiny who waves golden threads that connect people who are destined to meet.

What did she ask in return?

Thomas heard Diane’s words loud and clear for the first time since they were uttered. Did his, or her, queen really ask for something in return for her sacrifice? And if she did, was it something noble?

Does it even matter?

“I have a mission for you, Thomas Hammer,” Diane said suddenly. They were walking back towards his house.

Thomas felt his heart up in his throat. For a moment, he could swear he heard the sound of wind: the whisperer of the past, the messenger of the future. It told him to run, yet he stood glued to the ground.

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“What is it?” he asked.

“I am going to Painron tomorrow. I want you to come with me and be my escort. Father is throwing a little ball,” Diane answered as they faced each other. The determination in her voice made it evident it wasn't a suggestion. “It’s nothing big really. Just a few royals celebrating… life, I guess.”

“Where did that come from?” Thomas asked.

Diane looked to the side. “Does a king need a reason to throw a ball?”

“No, I guess…But, isn’t the notice a bit short?”

“Would anyone refuse a king’s invitation?”

Thomas waved his hands. “No, never. But, wouldn't George be a better choice, anyway? I mean, he used to live in the castle and…”

“Who told you that?” Diane asked with horror.

“Jeremy did.”

She evidently relaxed until she remembered something. “What did you talk about with Lila?”

“Oh,” Thomas cleared his throat, “nothing special, really. I just had some questions about Ravens, that’s all.”

“What questions?”

“About your relationship with the king.”

“And what did she say?” She was extremely close to him now like it would allow her to scan his thoughts and determine just how much he knew.

“That there is no. But weren’t you talking about the little ball?” It was colder than usual. Thomas tightened the jacket around his chest even though it radiated heat. His flaming fingers turned blue, the spark in his eyes suddenly disappearing as the wind blew around him.

Diane took a deep breath. “Don’t listen to that old man anymore. He must have gone senile over the years.” Then, as if by command, she fixed her posture and put on her disinterested face. “So, are you coming with me or not?”

“Of cours I am,” he replied instantly, too terrified to refuse.

Diane almost smiled. “Very well. Meet me in the forest at dawn. Tell your mother about it. I don't like unexpected situations.”

“But…” he started.

“But what?”

“Isn’t this a bit sudden? I mean, we were talking about Nowhere, and then you were talking with George and…” He paused. Something was missing; a crack, an empty space, a void. If only he knew what it was, it would have all made sense. Lila knew. George seemed to know as well. So, why was he afraid to ask? “Did George do something he shouldn’t have? Because, honestly, I don’t really trust him…”

“Thomas,” Diane warned, annoyance all around her every syllable. “I will meet you tomorrow at dawn. Tell your mother. If you have any questions, ask her.”

Once she left, he didn't know he wouldn't see her until the morning. He didn't know she would spend the night alone, sharpening her sword. She expected them: the evil eyes thirsty for her blood. They wanted to know the secrets of the castle built in an unusual time but never imagined He scattered every last piece of her memory and sealed it within His crown of thorns. Broken and scared, she swore on revenge and through her veins now ran blood as intensively red as His cursed eyes.

As she made it clear she wanted to be left alone, Thomas changed his route and walked without a clear destination. He listened to the sound of his shoes. They squeaked as he walked, worn out years ago. Sometimes, he feared being alone. Awakened long before he met the strange princess, the feeling in his chest radiated with her propinquity. Like a beast, begging to be freed, begging to rage, and swallow the world. Then he thought about Diane. How did the world seem to her? Was it really as monotonous as she feigned? Or was there, maybe, just a little bit of color? For a moment, his conversation with Jeremy Blake flashed through his mind. Somehow, he managed to enter the part of the city he rarely visited. There were lots of people around him, all carrying out their duties. He tended to avoid crowds, for people never hid their amazement when they encountered a person of a different race.

There will be important people at the little ball. Royals. I have never met a royal other than Diane. Could it be that they are all so welcoming? Ah, I wish I hadn't agreed to it!

With all these thoughts swarming his mind, he decided to go back home. It was about four in the afternoon, so his mother would probably be there. He had to come up with an excuse believable enough to convince her to let him come with Diane. And maybe ask her things. But what was there that his mother knew, and he didn’t? It was only then that he realized how strange it was that they never left Lewtown. Like they were chained inside their home, never interacting with anyone unless necessary.

Why is that? I've never really thought about it either. But mom said she had met the king once before. How come she never talked about it?

Dark clouds suddenly spread above the small town. Raindrops splashed over the dirtied streets. People ran around, looking for a place to hide.

And why would she meet the king in the first place? It doesn't make any sense.

The deep blue raged above him. Interlarded with gray and yellow, it wanted nothing more than to scare the ones flying too close to the sun. It wanted to warn him, but he was too busy listening to Her soothing voice. Who She was, he didn't know, but She always found Her way back to him.

"Until the time is right, my boy.”

“Run home, boy!” someone yelled from the flower shop to his left. “A storm is coming!”

When the sky cried, it blurred his vision. It was the same curtain that blocked his senses when he first met Diane Hunster, only this time it was soaking his skin. If it had been rain and not fog, would he have chosen differently? Would he have bowed and allowed her to step into his life as nonchalantly as she did? To climb his roof and look at the vast world? To show him how insignificant his life had been, how insignificant it would forever be if he didn’t follow her to eternity?

So, he ran.